Out of Character:
Godhand had brought all of his legendary speed, strength and skill with a blade to bear against the snake, but he'd still managed to slither his way out of a killing blow. He was quick, he'd give him that, but he still hadn't managed to evade the mercenary completely. The first blow missed, sure, and the second was barely a scrape, but he'd nearly taken his leg clean off with that last one. His titanium muscles and prevalida bones still couldn't quite stand against the preternaturally sharp adamantine katana Godhand had had to kill a fallen emperor to obtain.
He saw the fist coming, and right away his mind devised a million different ways it could stop it from making contact, but rather than sever his appendage at the forearm or chopping his head off or running him through, Godhand let it come. The man had truly earned his ire, and while normally he'd be content to kill someone quick and clean, this time he wanted to embarrass the little weasel. He wanted to prove that even at his specialty and peak, the mercenary still outclassed him by several orders of magnitude. Petty? Yes. Vindictive? Certainly. But throwing even ONE grenade at him was enough to put someone on Godhand's shit-list for life, never mind two and a couple of armor piercing rounds for good measure.
With that in mind, he prepared to shatter the man's elbow as soon as his arm was completely extended. But the opportunity never came; just as Godhand breezily dodged the fist and waited it to reach it's kinetic peak before going for the elbow, the appendage detonated. He was in the zone by then, so it was a horrible experience as he watched the sphere of fire and destruction slowly expand in his direction. He brought his arms up to his face in a cross and leapt back as quickly as he could, but he couldn't outrun the fire and the blast sent him clean across the arena once again.
The pain was indescribable, but he still managed to get to his feet. The thick corded tendons in his arms were exposed, the outer layer of flesh being blown away even by the mitigated impact. And it was as he heard the surprised gasps and dead silence of the crowd that he noticed it. His face was burning. It was burning bad, and he couldn't see out of his left eye. He looked at a nearby puddle only to see that half his face had been blasted off. It was a clean grenade, no shrapnel, otherwise he'd be dead, but it'd still managed to pulverize the skin and burn the tissue on one side of his face. He sported half a rictus grin as the part of his cheek that hadn't fused to his teeth had been blown off, to the point where the lower half of the left side of his face was nothing but a bloody skull.
His world was agony, but the rage kept him sane. Barely. He shifted his knuckles around the handle of the blade which he now held with a deathgrip, ignoring the sickening feeling of blood being pumped out of his heart only to pour out of his arms. He approached the grounded commando and prepared for the deathblow.
But there was no need. He must have nicked an artery because blood was pouring out of his leg at an alarming rate, not to mention squirting out of his decimated arm with sickening consistency. With wounds like that he'd be stone dead in ten seconds.
Godhand turned away and thought about it but nope, that was still too long. He tried to give a lopsided smirk, but found that the flesh on that side of his head wouldn't move. Then he realized his face had been permanently frozen into a SORT of smirk. He chuckled even through the agony, drawing a revolver and shooting his gun through his coat at the commando's midsection.
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