@chxinsxwedâ said: There were many things Negaduck indulged in. Chaos, destruction, money, vandalism, ice cream, murder, more money, chainsaws, those peak red sweaters, larceny - and speaking of, EMERALDS. By the looks of it, this sorry sap had spent a great deal of time trying to score one of the many powerful gems in this dimension. And yet, Negaduck was impressed, though the swing of rope from nowhere as he ripped the gleaming treasure from the hybridâs hands didnât QUITE show it. â YOINK! â
Before he had time to even rest, the mercenary could feel the weight of an emerald leave his very palm. Confused, sweat stained his features as he scanned the surrounding area, the speed of the thief so great he almost didnât notice them when his head tilted upwards.
From the looks of it, this guy was akin to some kind of exaggerated villain that didnât play by any rule except their own. They also had nerve, too, for Fang the Sniper was NOT one to trifle with without caution. If Nack hadnât felt so worn out, he may have just filled the other with lead and worry no more, but he was panting. He was trembling. His entire body was aching from hours upon hours of spelunking that even his fine white gaiters looked torn and muddy. Many knew that he was all about appearances; he would never let himself look so ragged if not for his awful day.
Still, Negaduck would not walk off like a child that only suffered a slight talking to from a parent. Instead, having climbed to his feet whilst hunched over, the jerboa-wolf placed his palm on a leather holster as he glared upward at his enemy. He figured that this freak would have something or another up his sleeve, but Fang the Sniper was also Nack Jovi Queen. Heâd be ready for anything since that emerald was NOT leaving his sight.
In fact, that emerald wasnât even going back to the Eggman Empire. The mercenary tossed that life of slavery to the trash days prior. That jewel of power was going to him and him alone, all so he may sell it to the highest bidder and profit from it just like the good old days.
Perhaps that alone was what gave Nack the energy to speak up? His snarl proved, however, that it didnât matter if he had the energy or not; his spite already had the hate needed to break a fortress.
âOh, youuuuuuuâve REALLY done it nowâŚ!â He growled, teeth barred and brows furrowing at the duck. âYou think YOUâRE gonna mess with ME, do ya!? Do ya even know who youâre DEALINâ with!? Iâm FANG the Sniper, buddy! NOBODY snatches MY emeralds from me anâ gets away with it, ya walkinâ, talkinâ, stinkinâ trash of GRIME ANâ MUCK!â
Gun withdrawn, the barrel of it pointed towards Negaduck as its wielder struggled to stand under the weight of his fatigue. Even his own aim was off as his famed gun hand struggled to remain on the bright, giant target that was the duckâs trench coat.
 âGIVE. THAT. BACK. NOW!â
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