With a might crash that no doubt would have reverberated throughout space, were it possible for sound to do such a thing in a vacuum, the mighty titans collided fist to fang. The resultant force was enough to cast the warriors back the way they came, but in short order they repeated their attack, and again, and again, neither side wanting to back down first.
When it was obvious that they were getting nowhere, Lincoln tried using his fantastic feet to shatter Serperior’s tooth. While it did make an impact, it wasn’t enough to distract the snake of the stars from slamming his face right into Abe’s body. Recoiling quickly, he launched a haymaker at his opponent’s eye, only for Serperior to quickly dodge and lash at Lincoln with his tail. As quick as he was, however, the sheer length that needed to be shifted meant Abe was easily ready to grab the tail and give it a nice big squeeze.
Serperior, though clearly in pain, wasn’t going to be let up by this lack of judgement on his part. With surprising speed, he flicked his colossal tail, sending Lincoln flying towards the gaping jaws of the giant beast. Abe wasn’t going to become a snake’s dinner though, quickly charging away from those aforementioned jaws, causing Serperior to miss out on a tasty Lincoln sausage.
Abe used this break in the action to think about the struggle. He felt he had the upper hand in strength; the space serpent had only recently been revived from who-knows-how-many years inside a large rock, and no doubt would take a while to reach his full strength. However, Serperior seemed to handle space combat a lot easier than our presidential protagonist, and it was only a matter of time before this inexperience lost him the battle.
“Well played, little morsel,” Serperior hissed in his smug way. “But you didn’t count on my laser eye beams!”
That was very true. He hadn’t counted on his laser eye beams, which even now were burning into his leg. Master tactician that Lincoln is, he realised that this was not a brilliant move, and flew out of the way as fast as he could.
First blood went to Serperior, it seemed. There was no point dwelling on that though. He’d have to find a way to counteract those eye beams. If only he’d brought Stovey-that loveable hat was more durable that it looked, and could easily have shielded him from the deadly lasers. But no, the Commissioner had to have insisted on hurrying it up. Abe made a mental note to give his chum a stern lecture on the importance of dress sense.
He could feel his leg becoming numb as he tried valiantly to stay away from the path of those revolting rays. There was only thing for it. He would have to make sure the match ended quickly, before the snake could tag the rest of him. And not tag as in a tag team, or as in something you put on a present so you can work out who it’s from. Tag as in catch, and not the game. Catch as in hit, and not like when you tell the dealer to…the long and short of it is, he didn’t want to get eye beamed to death.
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