| “ | From human to cactus then finally to stone. The curse will continue, until it is home.
— Popoca on McCoy's strange circumstances
|
” |
Cactus McCoy is a treasure hunter for hire who during one of his adventures fell victim to the Curse of Thornes after retrieving the Throned Emerald for his employer Hex Hatfield, and was turned into a humanoid cactus.
Not only did the curse turn McCoy into a cactus but also also threatened to turn him to stone. In order to prevent this, he weant on a quest to return the Thorned Emerald back to it's rightful place. Thinking McCoy had betrayed him Hatfield sent out his goons to stop him, eventually confronting McCoy in person at the Emerald Temple. McCoy defeated him and returns the Emerald to where its rightful place, saving himself from turning to stone but remaining in his cactus form.
Battle vs. Dino Strike Dude (by Wassboss)[]
No battle was written.
Winner: Cactus McCoy
Expert's Opinion[]
Cactus McCoy won because he has the weapon edges where it counted. His tomahawk's gave him the edge in range combat and his flamethrower stopped the dino strike dude from using his superior close and mid range weaponry.
To see the original battle, weapons and votes, click here.
Battle vs. Miguel (by Wassboss)[]
Prologue[]
A bell rings gently as Cactus McCoy pushes open the door to the restaurant. As he walks past the tables several of the patrons stare at him in surprise as even in a city like DFederal a cactus man is an unusual sight. McCoy is quite used to the attention however and ignores them, fully focused on the table right at the centre of the restaurant. There are two men sat at it, one young and one old and both of them watch McCoy as he pulls out a chair and sits opposite them.
“McCoy is it?” the older man says and he nods. “I believe you know my son Santino. That you’ve done some jobs for him in the past?” Again, McCoy nods. A waiter comes over and places down two plates of food and starts to walk away when Sonny snaps his fingers to call him back.
“What the hell is this? I ordered the Risotto. This is veal. What are you some kind of idiot?!” The waiter tries to stammer out an apology but Sonny slams his fist on the table angrily silencing him. “What sort of establishment is this that can’t get a simple order right. I want to speak to your manager. And take this pile of shit with you,” he shouts, shoving the plate of meat at the waiter, who scurries away.
“I understand you’re good at retrieving things?” Vito says once the outburst is over. “And we have something very important we need retrieving for us,” he says sliding over a brown folder. “The details are in there.” McCoy picks up the folder and inspects the contents. As he does the waiter returns this time with a shorter man dressed in red.
“You’re the guy in charge, right?” Sonny asks.
“Thatsa me,” the man in red replies.
“And this is how you run this place? Giving customers the wrong goddamn food? Tell me something does this look like Risotto to you?!” he says pointing at the plate.
“I’m sorry sir. It’s just my brother Luigi he’s homeless you see and I was just trying to help him out with a job.”
“I understand,” Vito says, interrupting his son before he can go on another tirade. “You’ve got to take care of your family. But that this sort of service is just not acceptable.”
“Of course Don Corleone,” the man says bowing deeply. “As apologies for our mistake your meal today will be on the house.”
“That is most generous,” Vito says, turning his attention back to McCoy as the pair hurry off. “So, is this a job you’d be willing to take on for us?” he asks. McCoy pauses for a bit before nodding his head in acceptance. “Good. I must stress however that time is of the essence. We’re not sure how long this information is going to be accurate for.” McCoy gives one final nod before standing, inclining his head in respect before leaving.
-----
Meanwhile on the other side of the blue collar district, deep within the industrial zone sits a warehouse. Inside a group most men, many of them dressed in red are stood in a semi-circle being given their orders. Dressed in a suit, his long black hair slicked back is the one giving them their orders Vincent Vega. “Now I can’t make this anymore clear, none of you are to leave this warehouse at any costs,” he says. “Marsellus is storing something very important here for a few days until we can move it somewhere more secure. You are not to let anybody into this place unless it’s me, Jules or Marsellus. Do you understand that?”
“Don’t worry Gringo, we know what to do.” Vincent bristles at the comment, turning his gaze on the man who said it.
“And who are you exactly,” he snaps.
“Miguel,” comes the reply.
“I don’t like your tone Miguel. Is it too much to ask for a little politeness? Or do you want me to tell Marsellus you’re not taking this seriously?” Miguel holds his gaze but stays silent. “That’s what I thought. Now I’ll ask again, do you all understand your instructions?” There are murmurs of agreements including Miguel. “Okay then,” he says satisfied and turns his back on the group, strolling back to his car which is parked outside.
Once he is a fair distance away Miguel sticks a middle finger up at him, mumbling insults under his breath. “I need a drink after dealing with that asshole” he thinks, fishing a half drunk bottle of tequila out of his pocket and taking a long sip.
Battle[]
As the bullets blast holes through the crate he is crouched behind, McCoy can only curse his own bad luck. Having come to the location given to him by Corleone, he’d dispatched most of the guards with little trouble and finding the briefcase he was looking for tucked away the desk in the warehouse office. As he was leaving however, he’d bumped into one final guard but this one was much quicker on the drawer than the others. Clutching a tear gas grenade in his spare hand, he peers over to get an idea where Miguel is standing before tossing it.
The bullets stop almost immediately and McCoy takes this opportunity make a break from behind his cover. He snatches up a tommy gun from one of the unconscious blood members he dealt with earlier, opening fire on Miguel who has just recovered from the effects of the tear gas. He scrambles for cover, just about managing to hide himself behind one of the support pillars. Having dropped his own submachine gun when the gas struck, he unholsters his pistol.
Running out of ammo, McCoy tosses the empty gun aside and makes a dash for it. Miguel chases after him, firing at him with the Berretta. McCoy zig zags as he moves, the bullets zipping past him as his Mexican pursuer struggles with adjusting his aim. Spotting yet another unconscious guard he makes beeline for them. He throws the briefcase ahead of him, jumping into a dive and snatching up the shotgun laying next to the body in one fluid movement. Rolling into a crouch he fires the two shots blindly. Miguel almost falls over himself from the shock of the sudden shots but he is far enough away that the bullet spread misses him completely.
“Should’ve aimed better,” he says smiling, pointing the Berretta at McCoy and pulling the trigger. Instead of a bullet however the only thing that comes out of the barrel is the clicking of an empty magazine. “Shit” he says his grin fading. Looking around for another weapon he sees a machete lying across a nearby crate and snatches it up. Advancing on McCoy, he starts swinging the blade at him, forcing the treasure hunter to retreat backwards. While he does this, he too scans for a weapon to use, spying a ‘Break Here in Case of Emergency’ case with an axe inside.
Grasping the shotgun in two hands he steps forward after Miguel’s next swing and smashes the butt of the shotgun into his face knocking him to the ground. He then rushes over to the case and smashes the glass, ignoring the shrill shriek of the alarm as he takes the axe out of it’s holder and tests its weight in his hand. Miguel gets groggily to his feet, shaking off the last of the dizziness just in time to block a downward swing from the axe. It is his turn to be put on the back foot, the almost foot longer reach of the axe keeping him at bay. As he backs away, his attention focused entirely on McCoy and the axe, his backs up into the blood member lying sprawled on the floor, tripping over his body and falling to the floor. As McCoy brings the axe down on him, he holds the Machete up to block it but in his haste the block is not strong enough and the axe smashes it out of the way, the head smashing into his femur.
Miguel roars in pain as the machete clatters away and McCoy yanks the axe out of his leg. Crawling backwards desperately to try and get away it gives him only a few more moments of life before the axe is buried in his skull. Leaving the weapon lodged in his opponents head, McCoy picks up the briefcase from where he tossed it earlier and heads on his way, pondering to himself what could be so important about one small briefcase…
Epilogue[]
“I want you to explain something to me,” Marsellus Wallace asks. “What kind of person breaks into warehouse, ignores all the drugs, weapons and money and decides to instead take a briefcase of seemingly little importance?”
“I don’t know, must be some crazy motherfucker,” Jules says, looking down at the body of Miguel.
“That could be true. Or more likely he was hired by someone.” Marsellus clenches his fist and without warning kicks Miguel’s body in anger. “Vincent!” he snaps suddenly. “I want you to get these boys scheduled in for revival.”
“But why bother, they had one simple task and they fucked it up. Why waste our time, let the police find them and deal with it.”
“Because even though they failed we still need them for what is coming. Speak to a Doctor Watson, he owes us a favour.”
“Sure thing.”
“Jules. I want you to find out who was the one behind this. I’m prepared to scour the city for the motherfucker responsible. If they’re in the sewers I want a guy hiding in a pile of shit ready to pop a cap in his ass. Is that understood?”
“You’re damn right it is,” Jules replies. “And what happens when we find the guy who’s behind this?”
“Then we’re going to go medieval on his ass”
Winner: Cactus McCoy
Expert's Opinion[]
This was quite a close battle but ultimately it was the Krazy Kactus Klan that came out on top. While Miguel voters emphasised his advantage in most weapon ranges, McCoy voters pointed out that the most important edge, the submachine gun, went to McCoy and this alone made up for his shortcomings in melee and close quarters firearms. McCoy was also the more mobile warrior, having to jump and climb about along along his adventures as well as presumably having a much longer career as an adventurer/brawler. Miguel conversely had exactly three nights of combat experience and it was entirely against unintelligent undead opponents who only ever attacked him in a straight line.