Austronomia...: Рўрєр°с‡р°с‚сњ Р¤сѓс‚р°р¶ Рр»сњ Рџсђрёрјрѕ С‚р°рѕс†сѓрµс‚ Рїрѕрґ
As the smoke finally touched them, El Primo triggered his Super one last time—not to crush Colt, but to launch himself into the air, silhouetted against the sun in a mid-air dance pose. The screen faded to black.
He didn't attack. He started to shuffle. With a grace that defied his massive frame, he began the iconic dance. He crossed his arms, stepping side-to-side in perfect synchronization with the beat. He was no longer a threat; he was a performer. As the smoke finally touched them, El Primo
The desert sun beat down on the Thousand Lakes map. Smoke was closing in, and only two Brawlers remained. He started to shuffle
El Primo spun, his mask gleaming. He tapped his heels, his movements mimicking the famous pallbearers. He wasn't just BM-ing (bad-mannering); he was inviting Colt to the final party. He was no longer a threat; he was a performer
Colt took cover behind a cactus, his fingers twitching over his revolvers. Across the clearing, he saw him: . The massive wrestler was at full health, his purple cape fluttering in the wind, his fists glowing with the energy of a ready Super.
But El Primo didn’t charge. He didn’t leap. Instead, he stood perfectly still.
