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(Pre-Show) The Barracks

At the top of the elevator at the far end of the Lobby is 'the Barracks.' This is part where everyone accepted into the competition is taken. You may only post in this thread once you've been accepted and escorted by a Syntex employee to the elevator.

The barracks contains a common area for accepted participants to hang out and 'talk shop.' As with elsewhere in the pre-show facility, violence is not allowed whatsoever.

Each contestant has a small room to sleep/rest in (all the rooms have numbers at correspond to a contestant). These rooms contain their duffel bag with all of their supplies, except their Weapon/Support Item, which will not be revealed to them until they are transported to the island.
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Okor ran an armour-clad hand down the steel door, nodding his approval. These cells would be acceptable. Pushing the door inward, the hinges gliding along a thin layer of grease. This 'Syntex' was sparing no expense on their part. He ducked underneath the door frame, taking care to avoid scraping the roof with his twisted horn. It appeared they had neglected to accommodate the proportions of a Legionnaire, the room barely affording him space to properly maneuver in. He lumbered inside, looking over the bare grey walls of his cell. It was as Spartan as any Astartes' room, devoid of filigree, weakness, and distraction. Grunting as he bent over the almost insultingly small bed, he looked through the bag they had provided him with.

A meager amount of rations greeted his gaze. Four packs of nutrient powder, not unlike Corpse-Starch rations, and four bottles of water. Accompanying it was a map and a compass. Grasping the paper, he raised it to meet his visage, and began to inspect it. A simple island, dotted with isolated settlements, dominated by a tall mountain. He ran his finger over the elevations, seeking out a choke point to use to their advantage. Grinning, he laid an infected finger down on the map, marking it with a dab of decay, satisfied with what he found. While the lack of proper defensive fortifications was appalling, it would have to serve. He folded the map up, staining it with the slime seeping from his body.

He cracked open the tome taken from this Librarium. The attendants were recalcitrant to allow him to leave with it, citing his entropic nature. It was only with the aid of a plastic covering that he was allowed to leave with it. Pulling a maggot from its place between the pages (And dropping it down his breastplate), he turned to where he last left off. Chapter 4: The Tribes of the Tangled Green. He began flipping through the pages, absorbing the data presented within. Yggdrassil. The Hidden Temple. Mokugakure. The scattered Orcish tribes. The endless beauty and power of the elves. Delicately setting the book down, Okor rose, hunching himself to avoid an unintended head injury. Wiping his pestilential hands off on his tabard, he laid down upon his hard bed, silently stewing on the information he was processing. A land that never dies. A people who remain in a stasis of perfection. Outcasts abandoned to the endless forests. A realm awaiting Nurgle.
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All 46 competitors have now been moved to the Barracks. Your next post may start outside this area, but it must end here.

You will spend the next 3 OOC days here (I think I said somewhere how long that was IC? I think it's 8 hours).

The description is in the OP.

Have fun.
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Delsin went wide-eyed at the mention of the name "Cole." Whatever Daxter was talking about other than that only confused Shay further, so he figured it wasn't he same guy they were talking about. Shaking his head, Delsin put his sketchbook back under his vest, before standing up to face Jak, smiling in an attempt to look as cool as possible.

"So... are you competing in the Abyss, too?" Jak asked Delsin, before Delsin lowered his head to scratch at the back of his neck, responding.

"Yeeep... Dunno what exactly is gonna happen, they kinda pulled me into it much quicker than I liked." Delsin looked over Jak's shoulder, tilting his head slightly. Delsin continued to speak, adding onto it with a question for Jak.

"So, what brings you here, then? I mean, I just came here to get a feeling for the place, although I dunno if that was the greatest of all ideas." Delsin finished his question off, before his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Reaching down, Delsin turned it on, only to find flashing words saying only; "All Dante's Abyss participating Primes, report to the Barracks immediately."

"Wait, actually, hold that thought a second... I think I saw whatever these Barracks were earlier.... Come on, lets get there real quick." Delsin then turned around, before running off to wherever these Barracks were, as Daxter hopped onto Jak's shoulder, following short behind Delsin. He could hear Jak scoffing slightly, but Delsin hoped being so abrupt about things wouldn't tip him off too much, since it wouldn't be in Delsin's best interests to piss off somebody before participating in a death tournament.

Jak replied to Delsin's previous question as they jogged off, "Honestly, I only did this because it'd get me some Omnilium. I also can't deny the perks of being famous..."

Delsin raised an eyebrow at the statement. It was a bit greedy to say, especially so bluntly, but then again, Delsin liked the enthusiasm. Well, a bit, anyways.

"Hey, whatever suits ya, man! I don't think it'll matter now, though... We're gonna start any time, and I just hope you're ready for it!" Delsin said back to Jak as they continued to jog off to the Barracks, the three remaining silent throughout the whole thing. Well, other than Daxter's comments, but neither Delsin nor Jak paid much attention.

Minutes afterward, the two Primes and single Secondary went up the elevator leading to the Barracks themselves. Upon leaving the Lobby's elevator, Delsin got a quick look around as he poked Jak's arm with an elbow. Tilting his head, Delsin whispered to Jak, obviously impressed with how well the Barracks were organized, expecting something a lot more crowded.

"Huh... Nice place, isn't it?"

Jak crossed his arms and shrugged at Cole "We must not have run into the crowds yet and that's a good thing. "

Jak felt Delsin's poke and said "It looks pretty nice, kind of reminds me of an ally's Barracks back home in Haven City."

Daxter scanned the doors on the wall and looked for the number 25 and found it. "HEY Jak! Over here! Our room..

Jak said "Thanks Dax! But I'd like to talk to Delsin here a bit more..." "Perhaps scope out the competition."

Jak crossed his arms and answered Delsin's question "It's a long story... I was the only...one here for a while... until Daxter joined me a little later... "

The man just had a lot of thoughts and wondered if Torn was still here or otherwise... He'd be embarrassed to see me lose ..

Jak looked not so confident but didn't really show the fact that he was still gaining his powers back... "Hey, Delsin. It takes a while to earn your powers back but it will be worth it in the end."

Daxter kind of looked a bit worried "Hey Jak... why you so... weird right now? It's not like you to be so.. well down on yourself..."

Jak said "I just want to let a potential ally know he's going to be ok."
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[Image: Darkdata.png]Jak/Mar- Dynamite Kid/ DA 2018" (Translated text)[Image: hVDTXBF.gif](Thanks Ezzy!)

The Infamous Dynamite Kid- Sasuke

DA 15
DA 16'
DA 17'
DA 18' 

The trio strode towards the barracks. Harry’s cape whipped, Proto Man’s feet clopped and the servomotors in Samus’s suit whirred. The entrance to the barracks lay before them. On either side of the black sliding doors were experienced-looking bodyguards with massive frames. They didn’t move as the three approached, but Samus had the feel that she was being regarded as fresh new meat by a pair of tigers. Their visor-clad faces betrayed nothing.

Samus stepped up. “We’ve been called to the barracks.”

The leftmost hulk pressed a few buttons on a panel to his right. Then he motioned to the group to go in.

Inside the barracks felt much like being in an underground bunker, despite its lofty height over the rest of the complex. Samus felt a familiar cold drop over her as her footsteps echoed in the brown corridors. Was this a deliberate tactic? Going from such lavish surroundings to such dim, subterranean ones?

The three did not speak but Harry and Proto Man stole glances at each other as they followed behind the blue-clad bounty hunter. They were thinking the same as Samus. Too easy. Something about this place vibed wrong.

“This place is like a prison,” voiced Proto Man.

The entry tunnel opened up into a wide, lit common space that reminded Samus of the canteens in her time in military academy. They passed them by, entering into the corridors marked as ‘Quarters’.

There were no names on each of the doors, only numbers. “One to ten,” elicited Blues.

Samus activated her x-ray visor. Her scan immediately revealed two female figures in the rooms to either side of them. Just from the silhouette, her chest felt a burning sensation and her heart rate all but tripled. This was it. This was what she prepared for.

“Go,” said.

They burst the door open to the broom cupboard of a bedroom, and the fight began immediately.

Cindy reacted as might one expected of a warrior used to sleeping around deadly carnivores. She whipped around, slashing outwards with a pair of purple-striped blades she drew from her belt. They immediately connected with the cannon of Samus Aran, which sparked before unleashing a quickcharged blast of plasma, directly above the head of the freelance Hunter.

Harry Dresden and Blues unarmed their respective choices of weapon; a red stream of flame coat-tailed by a blast of yellow plasma. They joined the fray and exploded into the crowded quarters of Cindy the Monster Hunter. Cindy shot back, wheeling outwards with a hammer that appeared in a wink in her hands and caused Samus to duck backwards, narrowly avoiding a concussion for the second time at the hands of the pale-haired hunter. As she fell backward, her backup fired in unison. Cindy’s silhouette vanished in the resulting explosion, which threw the already-destabilised Samus backwards, into the door behind Harry and Proto Man.

“Hey!” came an irritated female voice from behind the door. “Don’t make me come out there.”

Cindy burst outwards, shattering through the door frame on a lance that seemed to be a rocket. Proto Man and Harry Dresden dived to either side, and Samus, still recovering, back-flipped from her prone position simultaneously bringing her feet up into the monster hunter’s chest.

Cindy flew. Over and across Samus, clean through the doorway of the one opposite that of her own room. A figure inside darted out of the way of the airborne hunter, flickering back into view a spare moment later. The irritated occupant glared down upon her noisy disturbers. “I told you,” she said, “No … fighting!” With an outward thrust of her palms, she unleashed a torrent of bright white energy.

Alarms were going off all through the vicinity. In the background of the explosions, more voices could be heard. Samus ignored them. She whipped upwards, throwing the weight of her legs into the upper part of her body, and slammed her left fist into the open face of Android Eighteen. The android spun sideways into the barracks wall. “Out of the way!” Samus roared.

“Watch out!” bellowed Proto Man, as Cindy recovered from the floor and dived outwards like a cornered beast. Samus ducked underneath her blades, half-falling half-staggering backwards up the corridor.

Harry saw a phantom of his bloodstream trailing behind him as he fell to the ground, a few hairs in tow – the blades of Cindy had only caught the outward inch of his ear. The Winter’s Mantle fluttered, its instincts pressing in at the edges of the wizard senses. It was time to wake up. “Forzare!” bellowed the Winter Knight, unleashing a hand of spectral energy from the very force of his will with a single intent: ‘Capture Cindy’.

Cindy roared with pain and rage as the fingers closed around her. Her eyes literally went red. “Guys, do something!” yelled Harry, back to floor as he held the Hunter just barely at bay.

“I’m on it!” barked back Proto Man as he readied his arm cannon. The robotic boy’s suit began to pulse with an array of energy that shook the floor. It converged before unleashing a yellow blast of gargantuan proportions. “Finish BUSTER!” he elicited, as the entire corridor vanished in a flash of light.

The smoking vision of Cindy fell out of the air in front of Samus. The bounty hunter stepped up, placing a finger out in front of her. It traced the air in a green circle around the monster hunter. “What are you doing?!” coughed Cindy.

“Sending you back where you belong,” said Samus.

Cindy kicked and screamed. Harry and Blues ran over to hold her down, pin her against the floor against the magic of the Banishment Circle. It’s humming began to morph into a high pitched vibration that seemed to fill the air around it. The room became still.

And then the energy in the air vanished. Like a power cut, the hum stopped and the circle of banishment vanished into thin air.

Harry and Proto Man looked up at Samus. Her face held nothing but a mixture of confusion and rage. Cindy smirked.

With a twist of her torso, Cindy’s legs spun out and caught at the legs of her pursuers. Proto Man and Harry fell; Samus, meanwhile, caught the brunt of the opposing hunter’s arms, eating deeply of blade and ferocity. She fell backwards with blood spilling from her forearms. Cindy rounded on her.

“You think you’d really get away with this?”

Samus growled. “Do you really think you’d get away with tricking me?”

Cindy laughed. “I thought I’d get away with the Rathian Egg. The rest is up to fate.”

In her hand glowed the raptor’s egg. With a burst of golden light the creature broke free of its arcane entrapments, cracking open the very ceiling of the walls that enclosed them. “Dammit!” swore Harry, looking as much pleased as the others to be facing a dragon once again. Not even its gold-shaded body and comparatively diminutive form detracted from the immediate loss of morale they all felt from seeing a familiar foe. Samus grit her teeth. Blues steeled himself and fired a charge shot at the monster hunter.

From the entrance of the corridor, the bodyguards peered in. They glanced from the mass of flame and diving bodies to the figure of Android Eighteen, who stood with her fists upheld, humming with ionic charge. “You need our help, miss Number Two?” enquired the braver of the two bodyguards.

“No. No, thank you, that’s all that is required.” Eighteen smiled in a way that could not be described as optimistic.

The pair of visor-clad entrees backed off as their beneficiary strode calmly into the cacophony and began raising the volume of the explosions thus contained within. One of them dialled frantically at numbers on his digital watch. “Master Jak, sir! We’ve got a serious situation going down on the barracks! Need reinforcement immediately!”

“Of course.” Responded the tones of their stalwart employer. “I’ll be right there.”

A beep signalled the cutoff of the phone.

“Are you really going to send in someone to stop them?” asked Jak’s advisor, a nervous looking man in plain colours.

“Give it a few minutes,” said Jak.

The corridor continued to widen substantially. By method of plasma, light energy, flame, and seismic power, the structural integrity of the building had come into a new form of assessment. Proto Man ducked behind his shield.

“We have to pull back,” he said, calling across to Samus. “The Banishment Circle didn’t work!”

Samus gasped in air. “Harry! We need to move!”

“You guys go!” the wizard yelled backwards. In the same moment, Cindy crashed into him. Her legs wrapped around the mage’s torso, her right arm held high. Her violet blade shone in the moonlight.

“NO!” Samus’s bellow was almost inhuman in cadence. It reverberated out through the gaps in her helmet and off the broken walls of this now-ruin that they stood in. She threw her left arm forward. Her left eye squinted shut, the result of so many drills before. The beam snaked outwards from her arm cannon; a point of light attaching itself to the jacket enclosing Harry Dresden. She pulled back with one hand; thrust forward with the other. Harry Dresden flew backwards over her shoulder, just missing the wave of light that materialised in his wake. Cindy crashed against it, her blades slicing through the plasma walls that Samus defended with.


“Okay, now.”

The three insurgents fled their apocalyptic wake. Samus and Harry blew plasmic currents behind them as Proto led in front. “Out through this way!” yelled the electronic boy as the corridor yielded into a set of gates, unmarked and unremarkable.

Aran and Dresden picked up the speed, Samus grasping her compatriot’s right hand and pulling him along as her long legs grasped forward in an all-out sprint. Proto Man pushed at the door. Samus skidded to a halt in front of it, having to hold out her gun arm to prevent Harry from sliding full-pelt into the galvanised gateway.

“Just blast it!” spoke Samus.

Proto Man did as such. His efforts served only to destructure the hallways.

The footsteps loudened behind them.

Samus felt the cold rise up through the pit of her stomach and overtake her whole being. Something felt far from not right. Something felt deeply wrong about all this.

A trap? No way.

And even as the thought crossed her mind, a hissing sound caught the edge of her enhanced senses. Proto Man, Samus Aran and Harry Dresden looked at each other, the understanding that they’d all made a huge mistake not lingering long on their attentions. Before long the world of dreams had overtaken them each. Samus blacked out to the knowledge that she had led her team into almost certain death.
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The dojo's training mat was stained and covered with Strazio's blood. He was unable to beat the training robot, and was finally forced to stop by a staff medic. She was able to convince the injured prime to take a break after he was brought to the ground for the fifth time. Strazio fumed with a quiet frustration as the medic did her best to tend to his lacerations and bruises. She coddled him like a mother would a child "you need to be careful Mr. Rockwell, we need you in perfect condition for the contest." He scowled and pulled his bruised arm away from her "thanks, but I'll be fine." Most of his wounds were superficial and would heal quickly. However, his pride would take longer to recuperate; being unable to beat the mechanical training dummy did a number on his confidence.

One of the Syntex employees approached Strazio and told him it was time to head to the barracks. Strazio reluctantly covered his body with his stark white cloak and headed towards the elavator. With a limp in his step he walked up to the two guards protecting the elevator. The guards treated him with silent indifference and refused to budge as he tried to get past. Slightly annoyed he spoke "stand aside please, I am a Strazio Rockwell. I'm a contestant." After his declaration one of the guards reached for the nearby control panel and entered in a passcode.

"You're contestant number thirteen, lucky number" the guard chuckled a bit before continuing "you'll find your rations and pack in your room, y'know the one labelled thirteen."

"Got it" Strazio responded as he stepped into the elevator.

The barracks was simple and efficient, four hallways labelled one through fourty held their sleeping quarters and a small commons area gave the contestants opportunities to converse. Still sore from going six rounds with a master martial artist Strazio headed down the hallway labelled eleven to twenty. The room was small and simple, housing only a bed and a desk. On the desk was a olive green duffel bag which Strazio unzipped and poured its contents onto the desk. Our supplies are scarce it seems he thought as he stacked the four MREs on top of each other next to the bottles of water. He spread the map out flat on the desk and took several minutes to studying it. Strapped to his belt was a small stick of charcoal with he used to make several marks and notes on the map. He figured the more time he spent planning now the better.

Feeling satisfied with his planning he neatly repacked his duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder. Strazio was not going to let that bag out of his sight for fear of someone thieving its contents. He still felt a bit stiff from the training, but he didn't feel like napping so he left his room and wondered into the commons area. A few other primes were wandering about, but Strazio payed no mind to them. Several couches and chairs were placed in a semi-circle in the corner of the barracks. He made his way over to them and sat down, glad to rest his weary body. Strazio clutched his bag close and closed his eyes.

This is it, in a few hours I'll be in the Abyss. I hope I'm ready.
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Gilgamesh entered the tube elevator with his heart at his feet. He would show this Karl Jak he was not a toy to be played with…The elevator door shut and the man waved goodbye with a slick smile on his face. The nerve of the man…Gilgamesh pressed the L button and watched it light up as the elevator shot down towards the floor. The music seemed demented to Gilgamesh now, as if there were some facade going on…The elevator jolted to a stop and Gilgamesh walked off the elevator and watched it shut before him. The access code gleaming in read letters "Please input 4-digit code", he scoffed and walked it off. He headed towards the Barracks, towards the far end. Gilgamesh strode up to the barracks passing by many fans, hearing many voices but none of it mattered. The rage and shame he felt from that meeting strove him to destroy anything that came across his path.

Gilgamesh saw the word "Barracks" in bright red and he pushed through the two giant doors to notice this giant bustling center. The doors opened with a giant creak as he entered in with his angry attitude. He glared around and the maze of black queue lines, and Gilgamesh saw the emptiness that followed and noticed the man at the end with a clipboard and the look on his face that said, "I hate this fucking job." Gilgamesh walked through the Queue lines, causing them to wrap around his waist as he continued to press forward. He stumbled a bit as the lines grew ever more massive and he eventually tripped and fell on his face causing himself to be even more agitated. The King got a great inspection of the tile floor, seemingly sticky and disgusting, almost as if someone had deposited the lifetime supply of dirt and grime right on the spot he landed on. His skin was sticking to the floor as he pushed himself up from the grimy floor. He brushed off the dust off of his shirt and peeled a wad of gum off of his fine, leather shoes. Animals.

The man before him was a prime example of what he wanted to be rid of in this world. The man was bone-thin, pepperoni faced, glasses, nasally voice, and worst of all an attitude. He lowered his glasses and seemed to inspect the King. His nasally voice piercing his ears with a shrill, "And Who might you be?" the man took out a pen and clicked it, twirled it, and then looked expectantly at the contestant. Gilgamesh glared at him before speaking, "My name is King Gilgamesh, and you will learn to respect me." He grabbed the man's collar in an attempt of intimidation but the man ignored it and just crossed the King's name off of his list. He shoved the King's hands off his collar before going to a small podium and retrieving a small trinket.

"Ah well yes, Karl wanted you to wear this a bit early. It limits your abilities on the island…also here so you don't freak out and kill everyone. Now move along." He handed the King the collar with a forced smile before patting him on the back. Gilgamesh raised his fist and the recent memory of the videotape came back into his mind. He turned around and looked at this thing, the metal opened with a snap, welcoming the King's neck into it's cold embrace. "Are you kidding? You are going to put this onto me? A KING!" Gilgamesh walked closer to the man aggressively and the man did nothing but shrug which only incurred the King's wrath further. "Karl said that if you don't comply, something about a video? I'm not sure…" Gilgamesh's heart dropped again, damn you Karl…The King hesitantly put the thing around his neck, glancing at the man, almost seeing him break down in laughter as the King humiliated himself. The cold metal barely touched his neck before snapping shut, the unforgiving metal pinched the back of his neck and he was choking. They treat him like an animal?! He shall make them pay. Gilgamesh grit his teeth as he lowered the collar just so it would not suffocate him. He swallowed his enormous pride before taking a step towards his cell, but he heard footsteps behind him. The King glanced over his shoulder to see the doors open and the Mosquito Princess to walk in, proud and unencumbered.
[Image: GilgameshDAsig_zpsecqjfngm.png][Image: NB_BadgeRight.png][Image: RhzfCY6.gif] - Credit to Ezzy

Guu watched as the anomaly ran off from the arcade console. Eventually, she herself turned to Desco and Des X
"I should get to the barracks myself." She said casually. She shook Dex X’s hand "Nice meeting you. I should leave you two alone so you can say goodbye and stuff. I’ll see ya in the barracks Desco."

With that, Guu ran off and out of the Recreation Dome.


She got through the checklist guy and made her way up the elevator. As she went through the doors at the top, she saw him; Gilgamesh. Donning his familiar golden armor, covering his body from head to toe. She tried desperately not to think about him shirtless. Any sign of her blushing in front of the cameras would give too much ship fuel

Guu knew this reunion had to happen eventually and this was a better time than ever. She breathed in heavily and then stepped forward towards him. She noticed he had his collar on already, she figured it would be a good conversation piece. She lift her arm in greeting.

"Hello Gilgamesh." She said, as pleasantly she could muster, but very little of it got through considering her voice and the veil of nervousness that had come over her. "I guess they gave you the collar early. That sucks. My sympathies."

“How DARE you talk to your king that way!” He yelled. Guu looked up at him in surprise. She was afraid she had already done something to offend him. “You insolent little child, I could defeat you even with this collar on! With my fists even!”

She noticed that he was acting way more hammy than usual. His heart rate was higher, as if he had been shocked by something, However the mystery didn’t last long as she noticed that he was looking at something over her head. She peeked over her shoulder, and on a screen above the elevator door was Karl Jak. He was standing beside the text “You’re on Camera, make it good!” As soon as she saw it however, Jak jumped in surprised and the video cut off, screen turning black.

Guu didn’t know exactly what was going on between Gilgamesh and Karl, but she figured he was forcing him to play up the rivalry. Considering this oddity had liquefied any nervousness she had, she decided to play along.

“Hah! You? Beat me with that collar on? The only thing I’d need to beat you is a leash.” She said. She winked at Gilgamesh, which caused him to form a devious smile.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you little brat. They should make a show about you.” he began with a fake sneer. “They would call it Toddlers and Tiaras.”

”And what would they call your show, ‘Pigs Say the Darndest Things?’”

”Mouth off all you want, I’ll still destroy you in the battlefield…” Gil said, trying to talk like a wrestling villain. He paused to try to think of something someone from competitions would say. “…and then do your mother in the after show!”

”Ha, if you did my mother, you’d be in an asylum”

”Goes to show how good it was!”

”Doubt it was good for her. I’m pretty sure that armor must be compensating for something.”

”Ha, you’re one to talk, I noticed you checking me out when I activated my runes.”

Guu couldn’t help it, she blushed scarlet at the remark, forcing her to cover her face to hide it from the cameras. Then suddenly, a man with dark skin, red hair, and large nose stepped it.

“Mind if I join in?” Ganondorf said.
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The great Gerudo King couldn’t help himself. At Link’s acceptance of their truce, and his ridiculous show of bravado in threatening Ganondorf, the larger man’s face split into a self-satisfied grin. It truly WAS easy to manipulate the boy. Oh, Ganondorf would stay true to his word. The Gerudo had his pride, after all. Still, the fact that Link, his long-time nemesis, would be allied with him for this event spoke volumes to just how susceptible to the Dark King’s mind games he truly was. It may have taken some time to get the lad to this point, but Ganondorf felt certain that, in time, he could place Link more firmly under his sway.

Link’s eyes narrowed further at Ganondorf’s smirk, bring the Gerudo’s mind back to the task. The boy didn’t YET trust him, so it would be best to play the game carefully for now. His hand rose towards the blond Hylian, who backed away instinctively, eliciting amusement within the Dark Lord. Ganon’s brow rose, bushy red hair quirked in amusement as he held out his hand.

“To bind our agreement,” he explained, and with a bit of trepidation, Link, somewhat surprisingly, shook his nemesis’ hand. Likewise surprising was the boy’s firm grip and steady arm. Link was little more than a boy, and while tall enough to stare at Ganondorf’s chest, he was still about half the Gerudo’s size. In spite of himself, he felt a bit of respect for the kid, and he thought back on their past encounters. Link was a fair warrior, and not a slouch for strategy either. A bit hot-headed at times. Impetuous. But so was Ganondorf at his age… Well, maybe not JUST at his age. Again, the Demon King chuckled and released the Hylian’s hand. “And so it is bound,” he recited, as though it were an ancient oath… and maybe it was. “To each we shall remain true, until the final hour is struck and all bonds are broken.”

After a brief look of confusion, Link nodded in acceptance. As the two concluded their unusual joining, an interruption broke their focus on one another. A young lady, remarkably similar to the petite thing Ganondorf has registered with in the Dunes, walked up to them with clipboard in hand.

“Mr. Ganondorf, Mr. Link,” she said in a lilting voice. “Syntex, and Karl Jak, are pleased to announce that you both have been officially put onto the Dante’s Abyss Roster. Congratulations!”

The young brunette tilted her head to the side as she said this, an obviously fake smile adorning her lips. Ganondorf scowled down at her for the interruption... and because she reminded him of something his meeting with Link had pushed to the back of his mind: Firani. The woman noticed his displeasure and quickly continued.

“If you would please make your way to the elevator in the back of the hall, a space has been set aside for you in the Barracks.”

Caught up in his misery, Ganondorf didn’t quite register what she had said, though fortunately Link had.

“Elevator?” he asked, obviously confused. His voice broke Ganondorf from his thoughts, and so too did the Gerudo find this word strange.

“Oh right… Mr. Jak DID say that some of the combatants wouldn’t be familiar with modern technology.”

She pointed to the other end of the hallway, at a large, unusual, metal door. Link nodded his thanks and moved for it, followed by Ganondorf. And, as the Gerudo passed by the girl, he heard her mutter under her breath and a rage swelled within his bosom.


The word stopped Ganondorf in his tracks and he glared imperiously down at the brunette secretary. His hand drew back and the woman cowered in fear at what would happen next. Yet, as his gauntleted hand swept forward, an image flashed across his vision and he immediately halted. It was her again. The Gerudo snarled, his rage not diminished by the sadness he felt within. Yet, impotently, he turned from her and continued towards the ‘elevator’, as she had called it. Link had stopped shortly after Ganon had, and the Demon King noticed the boy’s hand lowering from his hilt before he likewise went to the metal doors. The two stared at the knobless entryway for a short time before another of Jak’s servants pushed a glowing light and the doors opened. Stepping inside, with more than a bit of nervousness between them (and both trying very hard to hide it), the doors closed and they felt a strange moving sensation.

Maybe it was to break the tension, or simply to distract him from the strangeness of their confines, but Link looked to his large companion and began speaking.

“So… new look?” he asked a bit awkwardly. “What happened to cause this change?”

The wolf-eyed King returned Link’s gaze and paused before speaking. He had considered hiding this from the boy, concerned that his mortal enemy would see it as weakness and strike at him. Yet, in the end, Ganondorf had resolved to tell the boy of what had happened. Or, at least, most of it. At the worst the boy WOULD see him as weak enough to strike down. Yet, the Gerudo had spent a long time observing Link in Hyrule. The Hylian had a strange tendency to see weakness as strength, and to want to help those who were beaten. And so, Ganondorf replied with the truth.

“After the battle with those dragons, myself and Eighteen had stumbled across a man in what they call The Nexus. It was obvious from the start that he was unstable and violent, yet I thought I could use him all the same. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bite my ego for long and eventually our differences brought us to blows.”

A pause for dramatic effect, and the Gerudo continued, “He killed me, though I gave as well as I could. Fortunately, it seems Omni is no liar and I revived a short time later. When I did, I was like this.”

The man shook his head and looked down at his gauntleted hands. “Perhaps this form was created from my subconscious desire to enact my revenge on that man. It DOES look much more combat-ready. But it could just as easily just be some whim of our benefactor, Omni. The strange creature seems the type for flights of fancy and imagination.”

With a shrug, Ganondorf finished, “I suppose it’s no matter WHAT I look like, boy. I am who I am. A death rattler by any other name would be just as deadly.”

And on that Gerudo turn of phrase, the doors to the elevator reopened. Both men were stunned by what they saw. The room which they had exited was no longer there. In its place, a new scene greeted their eyes. “Strange magic,” Ganondorf remarked as he stepped from his metal confines, Link in tow. The two took a moment to survey their new surroundings. It seemed this area was designated for only those who would go to the island they spoke of, as the crowds were far less dense. As before, however, there were no familiar faces to be seen. That is, until Ganondorf spied a tall blond man not far away, speaking to some young girl. Strange that they would allow one so young to enter such a dangerous contest, if the information Ganondorf had gleaned could be believed. But it was her he had recognized. It was the man. The Gerudo grinned wickedly as he moved to approach them. Noticing this look, Link moved along with Ganondorf, likely to keep him out of trouble. Slowing a bit, Ganondorf explained to the boy what was going on.

“After I had revived, I returned to the Dunes and met with the Sheriff of a local town. He told me of a man who had made a name for himself in Carrefore. Called Gilgamesh, he’s much like I was when I ruled Hyrule; a tyrant. I’ve heard he’s killed many troops in the area, and that he regularly abuses the townsfolk.”

Link scowled at the thought of another like Ganondorf around and the large Gerudo continued, “Obviously, this will not do.” It wouldn’t do because those people were rightfully Ganondorf’s subjects, of course, but he decided to allow the boy to think what he wished. He just wished to use this opportunity to confront the man. To see if he could be reasoned with and brought to bay under the Demon King’s command, or if he would need to be disposed of like the trash he was. And besides, Ganondorf had noticed something which would certainly give him the advantage here. The man had a collar on. That collar had been explained to the Gerudo at length. What it could do for him… and what it took away. The hero and the tyrant strode up to the even stranger pair, and the red-haired giant broke into their conversation.

“Mind if I join in?” he asked with a wry smirk. The girl and Gilgamesh, startled from their back and forth looked up at him in surprise. Of course, it might have been surprise at his sheer height advantage on them, particularly the young one. A flash of irritation crossed the blond man’s face and he glared at the Gerudo.

“No, you may not. Dogs don’t speak unless commanded to.”

The man’s likeness to Enel was extraordinary, and Ganondorf felt a heat rise in his chest. Returning the man’s hateful glare, Ganondorf fired off a rebuttal.

“It’s not I who is collared like some animal, whelp.”

Gilgamesh sputtered at the comeback, the redness in his cheeks equal parts humiliation and anger.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?!” he shouted, taking a step closer to Ganondorf, “I AM GILGAMESH, THE KING OF HE-“

The boisterous man was cut off as Ganondorf spoke firmly, yet calmly, “I know who you are. And I know what you’re trying to do. You seek to carve yourself a kingdom from the Dunes, heedless of who may have already laid claim to the area. The Dunes are mine, boy, as the desert has always been mine. And I’ll not suffer another to take what is mine by right.”

This Gilgamesh sought to speak again, but was brought short as the Gerudo stepped closer to him, driving the smaller man back by sheer presence.

“But, if you will but kneel before me, I could overlook this transgression. Recognize that it is I, and not you, who will rule. Pledge yourself to me, and all will be forgiven.”

At the Dark King’s side, Link shifted awkwardly, obviously uneasy about Ganondorf’s claims of kingship in the Dunes. It was no surprise, considering what the Demon King had done the last time he had ruled. But he had no time to pay attention to the boy.

“Kneel to you?” Gilgamesh replied incredulously, “I am a God, mongrel. I kneel for no mere mortal.”

“Huh… Are you now? You know, I recently entertained a man who called himself a God,” Ganondorf retorted, almost casually, “I suppose you two are very much alike; he too had delusions of grandeur and a penchant for…”

The Gerudo smirked as he looked Gilgamesh over, “Flamboyant dress. A little ostentatious, isn’t it? Or perhaps you thought this to be a beauty contest? I hate to tell you this, princess,” and he chuckled at the stress he put on that word. “But blood is going to clash with that outfit.”

At the Gerudo’s words, Gilgamesh’s eyes flashed with indignant rage. His fists tightened, his bones creaking with his strength of his fury. Ganondorf grinned.

“Go ahead. Strike me,” he said, his own hands becoming enveloped by a reddish-black glow. “I know what it is you wear, false king. And while your abilities are hampered, you can rest assured that my own have not been, and that I will not hesitate to use my full power to bring you to your knees. Besides, I hear that the proprietor of this establishment takes a dim view of those who use violence before the spectacle.”

Both Gilgamesh’s and the Gerudo’s eyes darted to the side, catching a glimpse of the camera crew and Mr. Jak watching their conversation. Ganondorf’s grinned grew wider. “And I think neither of us would like what may happen should we break the rules.”

For a moment, it seemed like the King of Heroes might yet attack Ganondorf. Yet, all he did was turn away from the Lord of the Dark in a huff and start walking away.

“I’ve no time for this now,” Gilgamesh said as he strode away. “But I WILL remember this, mongrel. Dante’s Abyss will not end until your blood stains that island.”

Gilgamesh had only moved a few steps away before Ganondorf called out to him.


The man turned back towards them, a curious look on his face as Ganondorf bowed to him with a hand upon his stomach and a grin upon his lips. “I forgot to introduce myself. I am Ganondorf. But you may call me Master.”

From just behind Ganondorf, a high-pitched voice said, “I am SO tweeting this!” Caught off guard by the strange words, the Gerudo exited his bow and turned to the little girl he had seen before. “You’re going to do what now?”

Lol. Gingy and I riding on a mini Red Baron plane . . . there is so much humor in that I’m actually at a loss for words. In fact, that made my entire cameo in Bryan’s post worth participating in. But next time he has to remember all my dialogue—even singing—is in red text.

The comedic performances held at the far end of the lobby were coming to an end; though near the pool of portals, the mercenary could see a continuous flow of people being ushered into the lobby—not prospective entrants, but common Omniverse citizens. Secondaries, Deadpool assumed; and with every passing moment more of them filled the lobby, overpopulating it into a cluster-fuck.

“That was some fun shit, but I can’t help but to wonder what the fuck just happened?” Gingy asked. He gripped a hand around the mercenary’s crown for safety, then half-swiveled upon his shoulder to a backside view. “It was like, the lights and music put me in a trans.”

You got Retane’d, that’s what happened, Deadpool thought, cupping a palm over his mouth to quell what he assumed was a surge of giggles.

But it wasn’t. It was a brew of racking coughs, boiling up within his chest. Eruption was imminent, but the mercenary kept his posture. He knew talking would exasperate his issue, but thus was the life of a comedic character.”That is called ‘Artistic Interpretation’, muh friend,” he croaked; the end of his response jumbled through a low, heaving groan.

“You sure you ok?” Gingy looked back and inquired. Doubt crept into his voice. “Ever since we got here you haven’t been yourself. You were a lot more trippy in the Moors.”

”Yeah, Deadpool responded, with a grimace, and then a harsh cough, ”maybe that beer from THE Pub just didn’t go down right.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Gingy replied.

The words were enough to convince the gingerbread, but not himself. His sudden cough sent thick moisture from his mouth to the inside of his mask, and though he wished it was purely spit—hell, he would have accepted mucus—he knew it was something much darker in color; the pains he felt originated from something much more devastating than just some shitty beer.

But cameras littered the ceiling of the lobby, and with any luck, probably the whole damn event. The woman from the registration tent (Ruil, the mercenary remembered—his mind still seemed to be well) described Dante’s Abyss as a reality show, and if true, it could be presumed every minute detail was being recorded; even conversations within the midst of a dense crowd were caught.

Deadpool had to keep his composure; so he drew in a large breath, squared his shoulders, and exhaled. ”I’ll be fine.”

“Excuse me.” A voice came from the mercenary’s left. As he went to peer through the crowd, a helmeted figure emerged. “Are you Deadpool?” he inquired, holding a creased piece of paper in one of his gloved hands.

The mercenary noticed ‘Syntex’ stitched into the man’s vest, just like the soldiers he saw emerge after Alex’s tirade. He replied, but slowly, ”Yeah.” But then more importantly, asked, ”Why?”

“I wanted to inform you that you’ve been accepted into Dante’s Abyss,” the soldier answered, refolding the paper and tucking it under the top of his vest. “I will be escorting you to the barracks.”

“Fuck yeah!” Gingy roared, pumping a fist into the air. “Let’s get out this crowd.”

The soldier immediately threw a palm towards Deadpool and Gingy. “Not you. Only Deadpool.”

“Huh?” The pastry’s blue brows elevated; he was taken aback. “I wasn’t accepted?”

“No, just Deadpool.” The soldier’s words were bluntly sharp.

Which does not make sense, depending on which definitions you use; gotta love the English language!

The soldier’s words disheartened Gingy; with an inarticulate grumble, he dropped down from Deadpool’s shoulder and brought his arms across his chest. “Fine,” he replied, reluctantly.

Deadpool glanced down at Gingy, but pulled his attention back the soldier. ”Aw, you sure the little guy can’t come?” he pleaded. ”I mean . . . look at the guy—he’s only like eight inches tall or so.”

The soldier angled his head down and set his green-eyed gazed upon gingerbread, but repeated his words all the same: “No, just Deadpool.”

“Don’t worry about it, Deadpool.” Gingy patted the mercenary on the calf, then hugged it. “Just come find me after the event.”

The gesture warmed the mercenary’s heart, almost to the point where he felt an urge to punch Gingy in the face again, for old times sake. That’s right, because a couple of IC days equates to old times sake, in the world of Deadpool. The mercenary responded in kind with a wink. ”Of course I will,” he replied, then reached a hand into the compartment he put the cellphone and pulled it out.

“I don’t have all day,” the soldier interrupted.

”Look man, your dialogue is only making the post longer. Just lemme progress shit and I’ll follow you to wherever,” Deadpool retorted.

After a few moments of gliding his fingers across the screen of the phone he handed it back to Gingy, who stretched both arms up to receive it. ”I’ll be coming back for the cell, so if nothing else, I have a plot reason to find you.”

As always, the mercenary’s words were utter nonsense to the pastry. Posts plot reasons—whatever, but Gingy nodded his head all the same. “Right.”

”Forreal, I’m dead-ass. I will hunt you down and remove your gumdrops.”

“Ok, just go man.”

“Listen to your friend,” the soldier remarked. He impatience swelled.

Deadpool followed the Syntex soldier as they made their way through the crowd—the latter shouted to create an open a path to a large double-door at the end of the lobby. The mercenary waved to a camera overheard as he noticed it. He even flipped it off, for good measure. The doors—wherever they would take him—were made of a strong metal, which appeared indestructible. Maybe even stronger than the shit Wolverine’s skeleton was composed—

No one cares about Wolverine. We’re in the Omniverse now, so lets focus on Omniverse characters.

”So where these doors gonna take me anyway?” he asked, looking over at the soldier.

The soldier’s hands jumped around on a touch-board to the right of the doors. Probably pushing in some code, Deadpool guessed. “It opens up to an elevator, which will take you to the barracks. There, you’ll find your room and supplies,” he replied as his index touched the last key; it doors retracted open. “Here—“ The soldier reached back into the top of his vest and pulled out a piece of paper, a different one from earlier: yellow. He handed it to Deadpool. “This paper has your assigned contestant number.”

“Cool,” the mercenary replied, unfolding the paper. It revealed the number 27.

That’s around the age I entered the Weapon X program!

Deadpool refolded the paper and stuffed it into a pants pocket as he walked into the elevator; he waved at the soldier, but got no response other than the doors shutting in front of him.

Oh, wow. So the post isn’t done yet. Ok . . .

The trip was short . . . or the elevator shot up to the barracks with a hasty grace. Deadpool was unsure of which, but either way it became apparent when the elevator stopped.

”I wish this thing had elevator music,” he said as the elevator doors ping’d back open, "that bow-cheeky-cheeky-(insert jazz flute)-bow-bow type.”

Ah, there we go! Had to include that little part, huh?

Dante's Abyss Placings
2015 - 4th
2016 - 2nd
2017 - 4th

PVP Combat Record
3W - 0L - 0D
4W - 1L - 0D
[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]

Vvvvvvvt, Chink.

The dumbwaiter hatch split near the center, gradually peeling apart to reveal a common suit standing with mulish poise behind the enclosure. Though wholly comprised of flesh and blood, his ubiquitous demeanor and mannerism reflected guise akin to a robotic caricature. Palpably evidenced, this was one of Karl's top brass lackeys, well trained and well paid; a proverbial lapdog sitting pretty for his treat.

"It is time, heathens! Everybody, line up at once! Form a line!" The stern bootlicker demanded, stepping forth from the beacon of fluorescent beams with hands overlapped near his navel. Breaking from pseudo-mechanical posture, the minion signaled crowded masses over with a sweep of his manicured hand, adjusting a pair of shades over his oculars with a freed palm.

The henchman's decree fell on eager ears as smatterings of contenders zealously gushed into a uniform column. Less obedient patrons conversely held their positions in defiance, mean-mugging the pretentious stooge.

"Yoohoo! Looks like we finally get to go up to the trea– err, mystery floor!" Luffy woofed, patting the round-eared tyke to his left upon the upper rachis. "Whatever happens now, we're friends okay?" The flaky pirate reassured, jovially grinning down at his fun-sized acquaintance.

"You bet, pal. Might get pretty hairy in there. Sure are a bunch o' tuff guys runnin' amuck!" Ears returned as an abrupt hiccup expelled from his lips from Luffy's incessant batting. "Knock that off will ya?"

"Yeah, that's him, the stretchy prick" A vaguely familiar voice murmured from behind the oddball duo, invoking them to turn and investigate. Staring back at the pirate and mouse, the twin guards from an earlier mishap stood, well, hobbled at least. Though victorious in subduing Straw Hat before, it was not without sustaining a few fractured ribs and shattered ankles.

"Ah? Oh it's you dummies, whadda ya' want?" Luffy mocked, cocking a brow beneath his patented cap. Oh boy, I doubt they want to talk things out, Ears reckoned in his head, equally ambivalent about their intentions.


"I want you to die."


The lackey sprung a handheld firearm from his inner pocket and tugged the hair-trigger, purging a lead pellet from the chamber at mach velocity. Instinctively, Luffy shoved his dwarfed cohort out of harms way as the projectile sunk into his skin.

To the assailing suit's aghast, Straw Hat's elastic dermis failed to rupture. Promptly receding back into place with a warping 'pop', the slug ejected forth into the gunman's forehead, though non-lethally fast enough to knock him out cold.

"You almost hit my friend! Erk . . . My turn!" The peeved captain berated, inflamed with animosity. "Gomu Gomu no . . . " Luffy pronounced, stretching his arm and heaving a bungee-snapped fist into 'henchman number two's' kisser, ". . . Pistol!"


The antagonistic assbutt hurtled along the linoleum, jouncing and trundling like a sleek rock against tranquil waters before conclusively spanking the enclave's fortified rim with his fumbling frame. In an average social function, such commotion might've caused a stir, however given the prior 'excitement,' it was little more than just another tissy.

"Yeep! What's up with this place? Even the staff is trigger happy!" The ebony mouse broached, averting his oversized peepers to the young pirate once more and throwing a thumbs up as curtsy. "Not sure how the hecksies a twig like you packs such a wallop, but I'm glad you're on my side pal." Thus, the pair casually strode on to merge with the gathering riffraff.

Shuffling in single file, a smorgasbord of combatants from the furthest reaches of the Omniverse herded into a spacious elevator like an overpacked suitcase. "Ho boy, smells like hot cheese in here," The vertically stunted mouse quipped, plugging his flecky sniffer with gloved digits.

"Oi, Ears, that reminds me. So do you poo–"


Straw Hat's vulgar inquiry was snuffed by a treble ping, evoking the reinforced metallic sliders to lurch closed. Reverberating briefly, the elevator rumbled, startling the technologically challenged among the cramped applicants. "Wooo, this is fun. Hope we don't die, kishishi," The rubbery captain japed, inviting hostile glares from the wary.

Following another perfectly replicated ping, the 'magical' contraption decelerated to a still, halting in place. The bunched competitors poured out like a bag of leaves spilling out over the lawn. Waiting at attention to receive them stood a curvaceous young lady, embraced by a skintight suit far more complimenting than that of the brooding minion below.

"Welcome to the Barracks strapping lads and lassies!" The buxom floozy greeted the frumpy band of miscreants cordially, wielding an ornate circlet of unknown purpose. "Violence of any kind will not be tolerated here. To ensure you ladies and gents act genially, you're required to wear these stylish trinkets. Try to take them off or tamper with them in any way, the last thing you'll hear is kablooey! Teeheehee!"


" . . . !!"
[Image: giphy.gif]

Dr. McNinja stumbled into the Barracks and cleared his throat. He opened his slip of paper

"Number 12..."

He walked down the hallway and entered his room. There was a bunk inside, and a duffel bag on top of it. He slid the door shut behind him, then unzipped his bag. He peeked inside, and shuffled through the materials.

"MRE... So basically a TV dinner," he muttered to himself, "Water, good. That'll be helpful. A compass, which is use- Oh never mind they give us a map."

He looked at the map and memorized the general gist of it.

"I don't understand," McNinja muttered, "Do they expect us to fight to the death in a tropical resort?"

He hoped to God that the more powerful entrants wouldn't go for him first. He was frankly here to run away from the threat of Darkseid, and he really could do without more threats to his life.

"Which is why you joined a contest where you fight to the death," he thought to himself.

"Shut up," he replied.

He walked out and saw a man with an orange beanie(Delsin) and another man with spiky, green hair(Jak). He approached them and gave a friendly wave.

"Nice to meet you guys. I'm... sadly short on allies. Would you be interested in teaming up once we get on the island?"
[Image: 665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg]
Odd hours. Call for appointment.

The silver doors rolled open and he breathed it in. Karl's air, now his own. He thought it had a distasteful essence, but perhaps that was his own vengeance. This place he had been transported to seemed to be made up of endless doors that branched from one narrow hallway to the next. The Barracks resembled the same cage that Gildarts had already pictured himself hostage in. The Prime caught the faint glimpse of the back of a golden head before the shining gleam of armor trailed behind a corner.

Absent-mindedly, Gildarts sauntered forward, as though the room were his own but was careful enough not to break the walls. It was too late for escape, but that had never really been an option anyway. Warriors were never truly free of battle, and somehow, it always seemed to find him.

The immortal strolled the out of the metal box, his only regret was having been forced to leave the beautiful Michelle in the middle of his charismatic charm. A voice had interrupted the delight of her laughter and called to his masculine physique, "Hey, Blackjack," it was a malicious slur, "You're coming with us. All Prime's are to be escorted to the next level. You'll have to leave the woman behind."

"Blackjack?" Gildarts had never played cards, and could only assume they were talking about his cloak. He departed from Michelle, but not without farewell.

The guards in the elevator waved their own goodbye and they dismissed the Prime. As the doors closed behind, one intimidated escort whispered to his friend and the elevator began its decent once more, "Man what a scary one, he didn't say anything to us the entire way up!"

"Arrogant bastard. I'll never get over that righteous entitlement Primes feel they have over us as secondaries. They always fail to realize that it's actually us who make their world go round, yet treat us less than slaves. Neither a hello, nor a goodbye. Typical." Scoffed the uniformed man with a cynical face.

"Yeah, man. Still, I can't help but to wonder what was going through his mind with that serious look on 'is face." The younger, and still more fearful of the two imagined how a man could ever grow into such a resolved monster.

"Gah, Reggy, you're too soft, trying to sympathize with everyone you meet. He was probably planning how he will murder everyone in this competition, that's what he's here for. There's no better place than the battlefield for a gladiator like that to flex his muscles, flaunt his skill, and get paid for it. Not to mention the added bonus."

"I donno Prat, that one didn't seem to be doing this for the sport." Reggy, the youth, pointed out and shifted his feet as the floor swept from beneath him in a motion that sent his stomach hurtling into his throat.

"Oh, how could you tell? Was it the fact that he was standing in front of us after signing his name and mingling with the masses? Or maybe that special intuition you got there?" The sarcasm was laden in Prat's voice, who chastised any weakness.

"Neither," Reggy said dismissively, "He only had one arm."
[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus

Desco nodded as Guu rushed off to the barracks after the announcement. Now she was all alone with DesX. It was a little weird all in all after everything that had happened between them. DesX imprisioned Desco in Hades and then Hades teamed up with Big Sis and Mr. Valzy eventually running into and defeated DesX. She looked away sheepishly now, it was probably time for Desco to get going with Guu. "It was nice seeing you again Desco, but it is probably time for you to go." She knew exactly what Desco was thinking! "Yea, Desco has to go! She needs to get into Dante's Abyss and test daddy's collar." Desco felt the choker on her neck where a collar would be soon. She was excited to be helping daddy but she still didn't like the idea of her powers being further sealed.

DesX pushed herself up with her tail so that she could pat Desco on the head. "Don't worry. Remember? Sometimes the Final Boss appears before the hero early but let's him win, or he gets to win because the final boss's powers weren't ready yet. But that means the Final Boss always shows up again to defeat the hero." Desco looked at DesX in the eyes. "Oh yea! You are really smart DesX." "Now go off, I'll be watching you from the cameras they will have up." "Cameras?" "Didn't you know? Everything will be filmed the entire time. You'll be on TV, that is how daddy is going to keep track of your progress." "Oh okay, well Desco is going to go now. Bye DesX." "Goodbye Desco."


Desco skipped off to the entrance of the Barracks. "Who are you?" "I am Desco!" The guard checked his information and referred to a picture of Desco for confirmation. "They'll let anyone into this.. Okay here you are number 38. Your survival pack is in the room 38 and if you have a dataverse device you'll still be able to use it inside the Abyss. You will need to be wearing the collar that is in your pack before you enter Dante's Abyss and you won't be able to take it off until the end. Please, step into the elevator." "Thank you!"

Delsin scratched at the back of his head again, looking over at Jak. A couple moments of awkward silence ensued, before Delsin noted a strange man in a labcoat approaching towards the three standing before the elevator. Delsin held his chin as he noticed the man in the labcoat also wearing a full-head mask that only showed the eyes, as if he were hiding his face for some reason.

Squinting, Delsin had multiple questions he wanted to ask at that moment in time, but to no avail, as the medically inclined looking individual in front of both Jak and Delsin began talking.

"Nice to meet you guys. I'm... sadly short on allies. Would you be interested in teaming up once we get on the island?"

Delsin could hear a bit of a Japanese accent behind the man's voice. Now he got it. He was some sort of... doctor ninja, which was confusing on it's own right, but Delsin paid no mind, averting his focus to the man's question. It was a very sudden question, Delsin noted, but it was something he enjoyed to hear being asked. Delsin smiled, nodding his head, before replying to this ninja-looking person.

"Hey, all's good with me! The more, the merrier, as the saying goes. Name's Delsin Rowe, by the way, but ya can just call me Del." Delsin outstretched his arm, before the shook the doctor's hand, trying not to notice the strangeness of the situation. Jak raised his own arm, before saying some words of his own.

"My name is Jak Mar. I'll be fine with whoever decides to follow, but do know... I'll still be watching my back." Jak took his own turn shaking the man's hand. Delsin could hear the uncertainty in Jak's voice. It almost made Delsin grateful that Jak was so contempt in considering him a potential ally. Of course, Daxter hopped along as well, adding his own little quirks to the conversation.

"Yeah, and the name's Daxter, and it may not look like it, but you best not mess with us, or else we'll... Well, just take it from Jak over here!" Daxter put emphasis on his words by raising his fist and shaking it, in a futile attempt to act intimidating. Delsin raised his eyebrow in confusion whilst the masked man scrunched his eyebrows at the sudden furry creature's way of speaking.

"Very well, then... I am referred to by "Dr. McNinja." Nothing else. On that note, I thank you two in accepting me as a fellow comrade! Well, a lesser thank you to this Daxter thing over here. Jeesh, so harsh..." Dr.McNinja merely 'thanked' the two of them, to which Daxter yelled back up at McNinja.

"Hey! Oh, why I oughta-"

Delsin chuckled at a bit, looking at Jak's slightly disappointed face. Taking a deep breath, Delsin reached into his pocket, before taking out his phone again. Delsin tapped around, going back to the Dataverse's main page. Checking the Dante's Abyss Records on the Dataverse, Delsin scrolled down, before finding his name listed, and his number. 42. After a moment of silence, Delsin put his phone back in his pocket, before turning to both McNinja and Jak, referring to the two Primes as he spoke.

"Alright, it was nice meetin' ya both, but I think I'll go off finding my room. If ya need me, the number's gonna be 42. See ya down in the Abyss!" Delsin waved at the two as he turned around and began to walk off further into the Barracks, to which McNinja raised his hand, barely waving back, whilst Jak did a simple one-finger salute motion. Delsin shook his head slightly, trying to re-evaluate what had just happened, before mumbling to himself again.

"Man, this is already gettin' weird..."

Sparse fluorescent lights dimly lit the barracks. Making up for what the facility lacked in lighting fixtures, however, hung a large, bright television screen above the contestants. The finalized list of accepted combatants played on a loop. With Mickey sitting atop his shoulders, Luffy stood beneath the huge monitor. The pair watched as names flashed by, looking for their own amongst the crowded list.

“Number fourteen,” Mickey nodded when his name—or, well, ‘Ears’—appeared on screen. A few moments later, Luffy’s name popped up next to the number thirty-seven.

“Looks like we aren’t neighbors,” the skinny pirate scowled. Mickey slid off of the boy’s shoulders and dropped to the floor.


“But still friends, yeah?” Luffy asked, his eyes gleaming with hope.

Mickey smiled. In the short time he had known the boy, he had grown particularly fond of him. “Yeah, we’re pals,” the mouse agreed, and held out a gloved hand. Luffy shook it, once again with a fervor that couldn’t be matched. “See ya on the island, bud!”

“See ya!” Luffy pointed a finger at Mickey and spun around, heading off somewhere—to get comfy in his room, the mouse supposed.

Mickey turned and headed toward his own temporary home, the hallway that housed combatants eleven through twenty. A quick glance down the first corridor told Mickey that despite the producers’ warnings against violent activity, the fight had started far earlier than planned. Burn marks littered the hallway; the doors looked shabbily re-attached. Obviously something… excessive had gone on here, as if this whole competition wasn’t excessive enough already. The King shook his head—sometimes, he wondered why these people insisted on catering to this competition’s penchant for violence.

Of course, he supposed that if he was going to survive and win the prize omnilium for Bree, he would eventually have to get down and dirty and… kill one of his fellow competitors. But he resolved to stay strong as long as he could manage. This competition was going to be brutal—it thrived on promoting unnecessary violence, pitting people against each other who, under normal circumstances, might have become friends, and thrived like that. Well, the last time he had checked, the producers of Dante’s Abyss had not yet shuttled them off to the arena to kill each other. At this point, the contestants remained a bunch of people—a bunch of Primes—who actually were not that different from one another. So until Dante’s Abyss began, the mouse would keep his head the only way he knew how: he would stay noble.

A golden-haired man interrupted his thoughts, pushing by him brashly. He shoved Mickey out of his way without a second thought, and the mouse stumbled into the concrete wall of the facility. “The insolence,” the man muttered under his breath, and Mickey’s eyes widened. See, this type of behavior… this was the type of behavior he would not tolerate.

“You, sir, need to calm down,” the mouse piped up, and the golden-haired man stopped in his tracks.

“Not again… what do you want?” he turned back to the tiny mouse, at first not seeing him. He looked down, catching the mouse in his glance. “…wait, seriously?” the man raised an eyebrow, obviously stunned by the idea that a mouse had been labeled an official combatant in this competition, “I don’t have time for this, you diminutive miscreant. Stop bothering me.” The tall man held up a hand, and looked to go.

“Say, mister, that’s not very nice!” the mouse squeaked, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Break it up, boys,” the floozy blonde woman from before called out, putting on her fakest smile. Mickey and the blonde man ignored him.

“Watch your tone when you speak with me, cretin,” he growled, “I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, and I will not tolerate such impudence.”

If Mickey’s face could change color like a human’s, it would have flashed red. Anger flared inside his stomach. Who the heck did this guy think he was? “Oh, yeah, well I’m—” he sputtered, stopping short of revealing his own royal identity. Come on, Mick, he coached himself, hold yourself together.

“You fellas heard the lady, didn’t you?” a deep voice said, and Mickey turned to see one of the many guards patrolling the facility approaching them. Gilgamesh, too, glanced at the man, and straightened up, spinning around and leaving with a harrumph. Mickey’s gaze followed the blond man as he stormed away, his brow furrowing furiously. “Keep your temper, little guy,” the guard threatened, “or we’ll have to collar you up like we did him and that maniac turtle.”

“Collar me up?” the King asked.

The guard snickered. These collars did not sound pleasant.

“These collars… they for everybody? All of us?” the mouse tilted his head to one side.

“Everyone gets to… enjoy the effects once they’re headed to the island,” the gruff soldier chortled. Something about this situation struck him as very, very funny. Mickey didn’t share his particular sense of humor.

For a moment, the room was still. Mickey and the much taller man kept each other’s gaze, and the tension between them slowly grew as the mouse’s scowl grew deeper. After a few moments, the guard seemed satisfied that he had intimidated Mickey into subservience. He nodded, satisfied, and turned to walk away. Mickey swallowed his nerves.

“Why not now?”

The guard stopped.

“…what do you mean, now?” he asked, turning around and offering a puzzled glance to the little mouse.

“I mean, put it on me,” the King uncrossed his arms, taking a bold step forward. “‘Collar me up.’”

Mickey put on a brave face. He might have been small in size, but he had a big heart, and a big soul, and a lot of courage—or maybe recklessness—to go along with it. Already, these guys had them locked into a competition designed for them to murder each other in cold blood. They would not bully them into submission.

The guard stayed silent. He seemed in a state of shock that someone would—well, that this little mouse would volunteer to have the collar put on him. Was he stupid?

Some might say that, Mickey thought. Lookin’ at you, Minnie.

The taller man held his arm out behind him, and the floozy blonde woman rushed to a cabinet and pulled out a keycard, sliding it through and opening the box up to find a bunch of collars stacked one on top of another. Grabbing the first one, he rushed over and placed it into the gruff man’s hand. Mickey kept his gaze trained on the man as he began to approach him, slowly but surely. He knelt down, and lifted the collar up to the mouse’s neck. Once it was securely around, Mickey felt it fasten together rather violently at the back.

Gosh, was everything here going to hurt like heck?

The mouse lifted up a gloved hand and massaged his neck just above where the collar had been placed. The man, meanwhile, stood up, and gestured to one of his compatriots, who pressed a button near the cabinet.


Mickey’s knees hit the floor hard, and a little squeal escaped his throat. A collective giggle ran throughout the watching crowd—which wasn’t too large, but had quite a few people in it by now—and the mouse felt his face flush red just a little bit. So that’s what those things did, then. He supposed he should’ve expected to receive a little comeuppance for his brashness. “I’m so fuckin’ tired of you Primes’ shit. Thinking you can just sass us guys without any punishment. Well, hope you liked that, little bitch.”

“Actually,” he protested with a smirk, “it kinda hurt. Try and be more careful next time, alright?”

The man’s grin transformed, very quickly, into a scowl. He advanced on Mickey, rearing one of his fists back, but the mouse was just as quick. He reached for his keyblade—

And to his surprise, all he felt was air.

So that’s what that does.

The guard’s fist connected with Mickey’s face. Tiny as he was, the little guy flew like a rag-doll into the wall. Mickey pulled himself up. Alright, so they couldn’t use any of their stuff with these collars on. That much had become abundantly clear. Which meant that at the moment, unarmed and not so dangerous, these guys in charge had put themselves in a position of power. “Got anything else to say?”

At this point, Mickey knew, he really should have kept his mouth shut. But between Gilgamesh being a royal jerk—literally—and this guy’s rudeness, his pride had begun to swell. He couldn’t back down; and even worse, now he wanted the last word. Side effect of being friends with someone like Donald Duck, he supposed. Mickey hadn’t been so riled up since the last time he had argued with that blubbering mallard.

“Yeah,” the mouse wiped some blood off his lip, “Just that that’s not really any way to treat a royal guest.” Mickey stole a glance down the hallway where the overtly-bold blond man had stormed away to. The mouse didn’t often let his pride get the best of him like Gilgamesh, but he had dealt with just about enough for one day.

“…royal?” the guard sighed, “Jesus Christ, how many fucking fake-ass kings and queens did Karl rope into this shit?”

“I know, I feel like I’m at a frickin’ United Nations meeting,” the buxom blonde sighed. “You’re that ‘Ears’ guy, right? Alright, so what, you want me to add ‘King’ to your name? I’ll just get Carmen on the phone, get her to tell Karl we’ve got another one…” she began to giggle in the most annoying way possible, and the guard started laughing, too.

“King Ears,” the gruff man nodded, “Well, if that isn’t the stupidest fuckin’ name I’ve ever heard, then put some panties on me and call me Daisy.”

“It isn’t Ears,” Mickey interrupted, “The name’s Mickey. Mickey Mouse.”

Somewhere in his over-decorated office wearing one of his spangly suits, Karl Jak smirked.

“Later, pal.” King Mickey left the guard and his perky companion in the dust. Up on the big screen, the listing of the competitors shifted almost immediately. No longer did number fourteen represent a contestant named “Ears”; instead, that moniker was replaced with his actual name, the one given to him by his Creator.

Number 14: Mickey Mouse.
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Guu peered up from her dataverse device.

“You need something?” She asked the Garudo King. But then she noticed her manners. Clutching her device in her palm, she rips off her head and places it against her chest, and then does a curtsy “I’m Princess Guu of the Tangled. It is a pleasure to meet you King Ganondorf of the Dunes”

As Guu popped her head back on, Ganon couldn’t help but feel at least a little surprised at the turn of events, but he had been in the Omniverse long enough to know that there were a lot of strange creatures here and decided to nod his head to return what was otherwise a respectful greeting. Then he continued with his inquiry.

“However, that doesn’t answer my question. What did you mean you’re going to tweet about this?” Ganon said in bafflement. “Are you saying you’re a bird?”

A beak suddenly grew onto Guu’s face as her arms turn into a pair of wings.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked, raising a wing to coyly cover her beak.

However, this was enough to satisfy Ganon’s curiosity.

“Anyways, I see you know me by reputation. It’s magnificent to know that news of my deeds travel as far as the Tangled Green.”

“Well, to be honest, I more read about you on the Dataverse just now.”

“The what?”

Guu, almost sounding sarcastic, recoils in horror at the reveal that Ganon knows nothing of the subject, even dramatically holding her arm up against her face.

Quote:[Image: OEu1cpj.png]

“Oh no, how could the great King Ganondorf not know the dataverse. So behind the times.”

He would have been more insulted by Guu’s callous words, but the way she said it made him laugh out loud uproariously. However, his laughter was cut short when Guu stretched up behind him and sat on his shoulders.

“Hey, what are you…”

“Shh, I’m doing you a favor.”

Before he could object further, she held the dataverse device in front of his face.

“This device is used to access the dataverse. It is the largest source of information in the Omniverse. It’s like a library crossed with communications forum at your fingertips.”

“Is it some sort of magic.”

“No… well, yes in this case considering Omni made it.”

She went on to show him twitter, showed him how to search for things on Google.

“This is amazing! How did I not know about this before?” Ganon exclaimed at the sorcery he was witnessing.

“One last thing, don’t take personally if people mock you on the dataverse. People on there think they are invincible, it’s not worth getting raged over. Gilgamesh learned that the hard way.”

With that, she hopped off his shoulders, landing hard against the metal floor

“Anyways, have fun with that. Immago mingle. See ya around.” She said as she wandered off in a random direction.
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Erza was beginning to lose all hope of actually finding Gildarts. She'd been searching the Lobby for a good hour or two, and his height should have given him away ages ago, let alone her decreasingly-frantic yelling. She had thought she'd found him at one point, about ten minutes in, when she'd run across another tall man in a dark cloak covered in Gildarts' power signature. As soon as she'd pulled him around with a "Finally found ya!" though, it had become glaringly obvious that the man was simply another gloomy tall guy. She had run off again, calling back "Sorry, thought you were someone I knew!" and leaving the poor guy standing there in confusion.

That had been ages ago, it seemed, though it was really more like an hour, and by now Erza had long since stopped actually running and was more sort of half-heartedly pacing about, glancing up occasionally and hoping her acquaintance would miraculously pop up somewhere. Luckily, she was saved from having to admit to herself that she'd given up by someone's approach.

"Uh, ma'am? Are you lost?"

Erza jumped at the first words clearly directed towards her in the last few hours, taking in the man who'd spoken. It was one of the employees she'd passed by quite a few times in her laps around the lobby, a stocky older man with just-greying hair and quite a number of scars. Not a particularly forgettable face. "Ah! No, I never get lost! I was just looking for an... Old friend."

"Well, alright. I may be able to help ya then. He on the roster?"

Erza scratched her head for a moment, thinking. She hadn't actually gotten a chance to speak to him about it, but in all likelihood... "It wouldn't hurt to check. Name would be Gildarts."

The man pulled a strange metal clipboard out of his utility belt and began flipping through a number of digital pages. "We keep very good track of the participants. Actually, are you also here? We're supposed to be bringing all fighters to the Barracks pretty soon here as well." Erza gave a nod, though the man was still looking at the odd clipboard. "Ah, this is you, isn't it?" He turned the tablet around and Erza's own visage stared back at her from within.

"Oooh, that's a good picture! Ehem, I mean, yes, that's me. Erza Scarlet, at your service. Now, do you think you can help me find Gildarts?"

"Good, good, let's talk as we walk, need ta getcha to the barracks! Don't want to miss out on the fun, now do ya, miss Scarlet? According to this dooliemajigger, he's already been brought to the barracks. You can meet him there." A wave of relief swept over the Fairy Queen as she realized that even if such a meeting never happened, they'd at least be able to reunite in the stadium. The two continued walking in silence, which was odd, considering how friendly the old guy had been. Perhaps he simply recognized and respected her need for a bit of peace and quiet after the wild ride that was her experience with the Lobby.

The pair made their way past the now-less-crowded area and into a calmer side-hallway, from which they soon turned to face an Elevator. "No turning back from here. Ready to go?" The man pushed a button on his clipboard, and the doors slowly slid apart to reveal the spacious interior.

Erza took two steps forward into the elevator, then turned to face her short-lived companion once again, a determined smile now changing her demeanor to one of excitement. "Can't wait! Let's do this!"

A genuine guffaw bellowed from the depths of the stocky guy's stomach. "Have fun, miss Scarlet." And with that, the doors closed, the strange young warrior was on her way, and this still-chortling employee could return to learning new faces and watching the amusing antics of the rest of those still stuck in the Lobby. This job paid too well for how much fun it was.

Meanwhile, Erza steeled herself as the elevator doors again opened into what seemed to be a large common room in the middle of a bunker. At the far end of the room, past a gaggle of strangely-dressed Primes and a shockingly high number of armed guards, were smaller hallways marked by number. According to a very helpful young woman who had been standing by the elevator to receive contestants as they walked in, Erza had been designated Room 34, nearer to the other end of the room. Striding purposefully across the central area, she did her best to ignore the obnoxious bantering of the apparent clique in the middle of the room as she made her way to her own hall. Though, she couldn't help but notice a young girl rip her own head off and turn into a bird before similarly walking away. Huh.

Somewhere in the middle of the one crowd in this place that Erza had ignored, a rather irritated Gildarts sneezed.

Room 34: Ezra Erza Scarlet. It was close enough to the hall entrance, and Erza was somewhat thankful for the shorter walk, considering how much of the past few hours she'd spent on her feet. Throwing the door open, she jumped on the beg with a sigh. It was a sparse room, containing only a basic (though admittedly comfortable) bed, a nightstand and, on that nightstand, a bag with her name on it. The redheaded warrior perked up upon noticing this, jumping up into a sitting position to reach for the bag. Provisions for the fight? A quick ruffle through the contents revealed that this was fairly accurate, notwithstanding a few random additional items, including a map and a strange, apparently inhibitive collar. So the fight was to be on an island. Erza was certainly familiar with fighting on islands...

Crumpling the map back up and throwing the contents of the bag back together, she stood up, tossing the provision bag on her bed. This was already getting boring, and there was still a good amount of time before the true event began. Erza gave in to her wanderlust and made her way into the hallway to see if any other like-minded beings were similarly wandering about, leaving her door to swing shut behind her.

Hall 31-40. She must have been later than most as far as sign-up and arrival. No matter, there didn't seem to be any particular bonuses one way or the other as far as that went. She was stopped as soon as she started by a noise emanating from the room to her left: Room 35: Wartortle. Wartortle? Was that the terrorist turtle that had burst in and gored up the Lobby? More importantly, there was a strange clanking sound coming from his room. Unsure whether the creature was chained up due to the incedent, or had somehow smuggled one of those guns into his room, Erza made a point of tiptoeing past his room in particular.

Rooms 36 and 37 seemed as of yet unoccupied. The door to 38, however, was ajar, and this one had no strange noises to accompany it. Forgetting to knock, Erza pushed the door open. "Desco, is it?"

The sight that greeted her was... Unexpected to say the least. A young girl, absolutely no older than 11 and probably younger, sat on the corner of her bed, eyes unfocused and legs swinging cheerily forward and back. She didn't quite seem human, especially considering the horns in her forehead. Though, considering what Erza had seen of some of the humans here, that didn't particularly strike her as a bad thing.

"Yup, Desco's me!" she called out surprisingly cheerfully. "Desco is waiting for the game to start."

"Well, you're certainly chipper. It's nice to meet you, Desco. Hopefully we won't have to kill each other." Erza extended a hand. She couldn't help but continue to smile; this girl seemed cute enough to brighten anyone's day. Of course, that could always change in a heartbeat as soon as her life was on the line. Erza hoped it wouldn't come down to that.
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Jon groaned as his restless, laying form shifted slight across the bed. With a heavy sigh, the bastard buried his head deep into the pillows embrace, trying to block out the outside world for just a few sparing moments.

As soon as Jon had arrived to this section of the complex and the elevator doors had slid open, he had been able to work out and find his situated room with ease. He had been greeted to a fairly peace, harmonical and quiet barracks. But now... not so much. As more and more contestants began to pour in, they brought their mindless chatter and blabber with them, and it was keeping Snow from a very much-needed catching-up session on his sleeping timetable. There must have been points where he was able to briefly doze off and salvage some nice shut-eye, but now was not one of those times. He laid wide awake, his eyelids heavy and burdening, feeling ready to snap shut again at any moment.

Jon had now decided his attempts at some decent rest were futile, though; the Primes outside his door would't cease in making a racket even if he asked them too. That, and Jon had yet to catch an eye for the competition, as well. With so much noise only came so many more opponents, and Jon really didn't know what he'd expect to face off against on the field. If he wanted any chance at surviving this ordeal at all, any bright hope or slight glimmer to get out of all this ruckus in one piece, sizing up the masses would be vital.

He steadily rose from his bed, moving right for his rooms door. He made no movement to quickly slip on his signature fur cloak or his black leather gloves; far too warm in here for that. In every verse he'd treaded through thus far, winter had strayed quite far away, he'd noticed.

But it would come again soon enough, as it always does. For himself, and many others.

Winter is coming...

His families words had never felt so true until right now.

As he neared the door to his room, his hand shot out to turn the handle. Apparently, this place wasn't as high-tech as the shining yet strange facilities of Corucsant had been, and the show-runners must have appreciated they'd be getting competitors from all walks and circles of life, and Jon was relieved at such a fact. Despite having spent some time around it all, Jon still wasn't used to all those highly technical mechanisms and flying box-carts.

He emerged from his room, not forgetting the close the door behind him as he skulked out. He was granted no key to lock the door shut, so he just settled on leaving it unlocked and silently prayed nobody would slip in there whilst he was away, though there truly was nothing in there of interest anyway. His weapons had been stripped from his person before coming up here, so his inventory was truly and plainly barren right now.

He took some steps down the hallway. A strange kind of silence had settled in, now, the hints of chatter and idle conversation seeped through the walls and doors around him. Jon payed it little heed as he lowered his head slightly, moving through the hallways with a quick pace.

For a while, Jon just wandered about sort of aimlessly. He had no idea where exactly he was going, and where he'd end up which each twist, turn and corner. The bastard grunted mentally to himself. If there was ever a dire need for basic instructions in a place, it would definitely be for right here. He toiled and skulked around, until finally reaching the doorway of a more open, spacious room. A couple of chairs were set up to the corner of the room, with a small table resting in the centre of them.

Snow leaned in through the doorways arch, only to be met with the face of another competitor. This one looked up slightly with Jon's arrival, almost as if anticipating it.

Jon was uncertain of what to make of this one. His hair shimmered a bright white shade, his skin an earthly oaken tan. His eyes... Jon almost felt as though he was being deceived in some manner, staring into them. The feeling was unexplainable, but Snow foresaw a certain darkness and rage within those eyes, feeling which had long been sealed away and hidden of purposefully. The man sat in a rather relaxed position in one of the chairs, reclining backwards slightly, his arms resting up the two thin wooden slints on either side of him.

Jon's lips curled and twisted slightly as he stood strong and silent, staring at the man with a stoic, stern and guarded look about him. He dared not to speak first, but rather wanted to hear what the man sat in front of him would say next, trying to anticipate his words.
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