Clash In The Skybox (Emi and Army meet)

If Army expected Emi to quail before the scenario he proposed to her, to show the slightest hint of uncertainty or hesitation, the Hispanic would be greatly disappointed. The Silver Scorpion let out a rich, boisterous laugh. "Ahahaha! Your little notion is quite adorable to me. I wonder, are your wrestling abilities as clownish as your mind? Ahahaha...ha..."

Her laughter finally died away, but the broad smirk and occasional twitch of her body showed Army that Emilia was still rather amused. She gazed at him as if he were a small child who was ignorant. Ignorant of the way the world worked. "Let me reverse the question back upon you. Say we have a match, Mr Rod...ahem, Armando." She leaned back casually, her head slanted against a closed fist.

"What makes you think you could capture me? If you believe your muscles would be enough to accomplish the task, then I pity your naivety. When I enter the ring, I am always the hunter, never the hunted. My foe is the one who will squirm and squeal for mercy, before with a sudden, graceful yet fierce motion..." She interlocked her fingers, stretching them slowly before suddenly making a cracking sound. "I break them."

As she gave Army a triumphant look, Henry glanced back and forth between his master and the other guest nervously, sensing an escalation in the process.

Army rolled his eyes as Emi went into herlittle giggle fest, laughing it up at his expense. A small part of him realized that he could leave - the view wasn't really that good and the salad was balls - but there was no way he was losing a verbal sparring match against a girl sucking on a silver spoon.

”You can call me ‘Army’, everyone else does.” He sat the salad aside and turned enough in the chair to face her, turning into her bigger, beefier, tanner, differently clothed, male mirror image of herself. ”Anyway, I don't know about you being the hunter and all that. Bet that's what a spider thinks, right up until someone comes along and puts a boot down on him.” He tapped his boot on the floor a few times, glanced down, then brought his gaze back up to her.

”See, me? Tanque.” Army leaned forward for the translation. ”I'm a tank. And I'm sure you’d get a lot of little bug bites in, but that's the great thing about a tank. You can hit it and hit it and hit it, but in the end, you mess up once and boom.” He clapped. ”It's over.”

Army sat up and raised his arms, giving both of his guns a flexing. Just to demonstrate. ”With firepower like this, all I need is a second.”