Hello There, Guest! Register

Thread Rating:
  • 0 Vote(s) - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Day One: Part 1

”Ladies and Gentleman!” The exuberant voice of Karl Jak resounded from dozens of intercoms across the island, ensuring that the producer’s voice was heard by all 46 primes who had just been deposited across the island. ”It’s Karl Jak here, I hate to interrupt, but we’re about to start. I just want to welcome you all to your home for the next few days. Here is everything you need to know…

“Find each other. Kill each other.

“If a winner isn’t found in seven days… nobody wins! So let’s not let that happen, ‘kay? Good luck, kiddies!”

Karl turned off the control and smiled as he reclined into his office chair. He used the same speech everywhere, but that was because he was a man who enjoyed indulging in fun habits.

Dante’s Abyss was his favorite habit, and there were fewer things that got him more excited than watching 46 individuals murder, betray, and steal their way to the top.

This was a great day to be alive.

Quote:It is 1200 AM on the Island (0000 military time). All primes were transported to the island via helicopter and collared on the way there before being dumped out of said helicopters a ‘safe distance’ above the ground. As the helicopter windows were black, your character was no able to figure out where they were and/or see other primes being dropped off so don’t bother with that. Your copy of the map does mark your start location, though.

You do not need to roleplay out the trip here or the collaring unless you feel the need to, it is not mandatory.

Tomorrow, May 26th at 730 CDT I will lock this thread to post an announcement as Karl Jak that will coincide with sunrise at 0600 hours on the island (so it will remain dark IC for the next 24 hours OOC).
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

  Here we are, in the abyss. My duffel bag felt heavier and I hoped for a decent item. Anxiously and with naive hope I unzipped the bag only to have my heart drop from my chest. A severed arm. It was in that moment, staring down at my supposed weapon that I truly felt vulnerable for the first time in ages. Karl Jak had to have been fucking with me right? Carefully I picked up the muscular dismembered arm and swung it around half-heartedly. Yeah, this was most certainly a run-of-the-mill dismembered arm Karl Jak was certainly fucking with me. Dmitri and Rumford were counting on me and I had to prove myself to Gilgamesh.
  Very well, we could work with this.
  First things first though, where in the hell was I? The map was still in the bag, marked with the notes I made in the barracks. Problem was they never told me where I was dropped off. There was a compass too, I want to head south, hopefully I’m not too far from the sweet spot. Through the trees I could make out a few small buildings to the north, I wanted to avoid civilization everyone would probably be heading to Dante’s Town and the clinic to scavenge for supplies. Only a bloodthirsty fool would run into an obvious deadzone like that. No, stick with the plan and head south. Once I hit the coast or a landmark I could figure out where I’m at from there.
  The map was stored and compass hung around my neck. I downed a water and shed my white cloak, this was a matter of survival not fashion. My cloak would only serve to get caught in underbrush and thorns and if I needed to chase someone every moment would be precious. From what I was told I could only call upon my strongest magicks with this collar on. The second it was snapped around my neck I could hardly feel the gentle ebb and flow of energy through my body. But it was unmistakably still there and with this useless weapon I would need to unleash everything I had out of the gate.
  Traveling south I noticed a gentle increase in elevation, people naturally travel downhill so ideally everyone would be heading away from me at this point. The meaty arm was quite weighty and I decided to drag it along with me, worst case scenario I could bludgeon someone to death with it. After a few hours of travel I came to the crest of a waterfall. Annoying I thought, this meant a treacherous climb down the edge of a cliff near a raging waterfall. If so much wasn’t on the line I would’ve found a way around, but every moment wasted meant that someone could beat me to my sweet spot.
  “Quite a drop” I whispered to myself after dropping the arm off the cliff. The arm hit the rocks below with a sickening squelch, it was too heavy to climb down with, and I’m sure the original owner wasn’t in a position to protest the mistreatment of his limb. I paced back and forth for a few moments and thought back to the golden king to galvanize my resolve. I needed to do what he wouldn’t do, I needed to push myself so I could beat him. With a small fire raging in my gut I threw my duffel bag over my bag and began the descent down.
  The wall was almost vertical, but the rocky outcroppings seemed to be stable. The first few steps are always the hardest as your body strains to keep itself latched to the wall. I trusted my strength and physical prowess, but the true danger was the wall itself. All it takes is for one handhold to crumble from the weight and my Abyss run would be over before it started. About halfway to the ground one of my footholds gave way and my leg skidded against the rocky wall, trying to find a new foothold. Sweat poured from my body and my muscles strained themselves to keep me from falling.
  “Fuck” I growled and looked down to see the deadly drop below. Am I to die like a fool here? I thought as my leg scrambled to find a hold. Finally I found a small chink in the rock wall, it wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. Carefully I continued my descent down, my arms raged in pain from the strain forced upon them. My boot touched solid ground and I hopped from the wall, glad to have a moment of rest. The descent was much more strenuous than I thought it would be and I took a moment to catch my breath.
  The stream headed south and I was glad to follow the running water and not have to check my compass every few seconds. Unfortunately the water took a sudden turn west and I decided to pause and check my map. The waterfall was conveniently marked on the map, at this point I knew roughly where I was at. The plan was still on and I wasn’t too far away, eventually I would hit a road and move from there. I thought it was a bit peculiar that I hadn’t seen a soul, but a omen of good fortune was not one I would scoff at.
[Image: StrazSig.png]

[Image: DarkshireBadge.png][Image: DarkshireDefenseBadge.png][Image: SecondarySaga.png][Image: HerosGraveyardBadge.png]

Face to Face
#04 Retane vs #27 Deadpool

”Sure is a nice day for a walk!” Although he had felt a little less comfortable since putting on the collar, Deadpool had enjoyed the little ride to the island. Nothing like a nice ride in a vintage chopper to make him feel like he was parachuting into good ole ‘Nam. A glance into his bag upon landing had revealed a pretty nifty little tool, and once he had some time to enjoy the fresh synthetic air from the people at Syntex, he’d set up and see what he could do.

You excited or what?

Deadpool paused when he realized nothing was happening. No rebuttal. No snide remark for him to quip back at.


We should focus on what’s right in front of your face, you know.

The merc-with-a-mouth twitched behind his mask as he turned around and took a green fist to the face. By the time Deadpool hit the pavement, he was already rolling backwards and springing into an upright position. With a shake of his skull, he dispelled the stars dancing around his head and glanced across the street to see a green man in a cape glaring at him. In one of his clawed hands, this would-be villain clutched…

”A mirror? You got a mirror?” Deadpool leaned back and let out a hearty, overdramatic chuckle. ”You going to melt me like an ant?

“You think this is funny?” Retane scowled as he dashed forward, his ridiculous golden mirror reflecting in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Never one to be caught off-guard twice, Deadpool ducked to the left and swung a knee up into the namekian’s gut. Instead of folding over, Retane let out a snarl and threw his head sideways at his opponent, smashing hard into the mercenary’s masked jaw. A beat later, the handle of a golden mirror cracked Deadpool right in the middle of his skull.

”Note to self… mirror is made of very dense metal,” the mercenary stumbled away from the namekian and let out a long breath. ”All right then, lemme just wipe away the lube and we’ll get down to the real business.”

...Did you think that before you said it?.

You and your blue text are behind this! You're ruining everything...

No worries, I overrode it. You do blue text for now, it's okay.

You know the other guy didn't have such rough hands.

“Shut your yap!” Retane shouted as he threw a fist at Deadpool. On this occasion, the mercenary shot up a hand and intercepted the green fist. Just like that, the mercenary had gone from half-assed to full-assed. The namekian had only enough time to draw in some air before a flurry of fists descended upon his face and chest. With every impact, Retane found it harder to stay vertical, until at last a kick shattered his jaw and threw him off the street.

A grin spread across Deadpool’s face as he watched the namekian crash into the side of the hill and roll down into the ditch next the street.

So was I the first one? … C’mon, I know you’re there.

You’re aware we're not done with this scene, right?

What else does can a beer drinking snail really do?

A few yards away, a namekian arose from the side of the street. Wiping the blood from his mouth, Retane flashed a toothy, ensanguined grin at Deadpool as he reached behind his neck and tugged at his cloak. The heavy garment fell away to reveal a strange glowing thing on the namekian’s back. Before Deadpool could make a quip, his new friend, now complete with a feral gaze in his eyes, lunged across the street at him. The mercenary managed to avoid the first few swipes, but the third caught him in the right shoulder and knocked him off balance. As he tried to recover himself, a green fist closed around his throat and a second crashed into the side of his skull.

“How does it feel to know that you’ll be the first to die?” Retane growled as he lifted Deadpool up off the ground. Before letting the smart ass respond to his (hopefully) rhetorical question, the namekian pulled out the mirror, smashed it against his opponent’s face, and proceeded to try and grind it into his skull.

From beneath the dented mirror and shards of glass buried through his mask, the mercenary coughed--a wet one laced with some blood. “[color]Anyone every tell you your breath smells like beer?[/color]” With that, Deadpool swung back his foot and proceeded to bury it into Retane’s crotch. Unfortunately for everyone’s favorite mercenary, his clearly male adversary didn’t react as he had hoped.

You set me up for that! Damn transexual or something?

Before he could have his throat crushed, Deadpool twisted his lithe figure around, cocking one of his legs back as he pried at the clawed hands around his neck. “This might hurt…” With each thunderous spin kick that collided with Retane’s chest and head, the smirking mercenary spat out the name of the attack in broken, overdramatic Japanese. ”Tatsumaki Senpu Kyaku!” When the last kick ricoheted off Retane’s face and Deadpool dropped to the ground, the mercenary flung his head up and saw that his opponent was wavering. Never one to lose a moment, he sprung forward, and with his fist leading the way, he jumped up at the namekian’s chin. ”Shoryuken!”

Although there were no explosions of flames (I mean, it’s not super, after all), the impact of the leaping uppercut sent the namekian hurtling into the forest and out of sight.

When he landed back on the ground, Deadpool found himself a little more winded than he would have liked to be. His eyes turned to the ruined patch of scrubs where Retane had landed, but he saw no snail corpse lying in the brush.

...This is going to be a long super fun! week.


...I hate you.

Quote:Retane has suffered a smashed up jaw and bruises/cuts all along his upper body (this is all combined into one Minor Injury; +6 Damage Points)
Deadpool has suffered some deep cuts to the face -- Minor Injury (+4 Damage Points)
Retane used Malefactor (-1 SP)
The Hand Mirror’s glass is gone, and it is dented.
Deadpool used End of an Overture (-1 SP) and Hurricane Kick (-2 SP)
Malefactor rolled ‘18’ - Retane remains in control.
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

Island landscape rolled out before his eyes. At this height, Mickey postulated that he might be able to see the whole thing if he squinted enough.

Truth be told, ‘beautiful’ was the only word that described the island accurately. Mickey had to hand it to the producers of this death-match; they sure knew how to decorate. The façade did not fool him, though: all too soon, blood of innocent people—and not so innocent people—would cover this entire scene. The picturesque land those monsters had created would be stained with the taint of so much death.

Alright, the mouse mused, Enough taking in the scenery. Time to get started.

The King turned and re-entered the lantern room. The lanterns swung idly in the wind, begging the mouse to light them; he knew better. Though not everyone in this competition could be described as deplorable, Mickey knew some people were out for blood. Lighting the lighthouse’s lamps would immediately alert anyone looking for an early kill to his location.

His duffel bag lay where he’d left it, slumped up against the wall on the opposite side of the chamber. He unzipped it, rifling through it quickly to make sure none of his possessions had gone missing—he could not tell you how they would have disappeared, but paranoia had crept in regardless—and inspecting the new item once again. He reached in and touched it, holding it carefully in his hand. He had a good idea of how to use it, but his good nature told him to keep it in the bag. No matter how much the producers of this game encouraged him to, he did not want to resort to violence. He would hold out as long as he could manage.

Stuffing the weapon back in the duffel bag, he zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder. Weighed down by the sheer mass of the new addition, it slammed against the ground with a thump and forced the mouse’s shoulders into misalignment. “Golly gee willickers,” the King grunted. In this new forced pose, he reminded himself very vaguely of one of his subjects—Quasimodo, of the church in Paris, one of the worlds he ruled over.

At the thought of the hunchback, Mickey wondered if maybe this competition would be broadcast in more places than just the Omniverse; could, perhaps, Quasimodo see him right now? Did the producers of this death game have some way of reaching even out to the Disney Realms? It seemed altogether unlikely, but the mouse took comfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe, his subjects might be watching him right now, cheering him on.

He’d need all the help he could get, after all.

The mouse started down the stairs, dragging the heavy bag behind him. Carrying the item in the bag would no doubt slow him down; perhaps, the mouse thought, it would be better to just take it out, and wear it on his person. He had a feeling it would get lighter when it wasn’t dead weight in the bag.

No, he resolved, I won’t do it. Not until I have to. Wearing it would surely tempt him to use it at the first opportunity, and he honestly didn’t know how he would live with himself if some poor innocent soul died because he attacked them first.

The bag ka-thunked along behind him, clinking with each step it hit on the way down. Oh, boy, the mouse thought to himself, I sure hope it doesn’t break.

Outside, he was much less worried about the item’s resilience; sure, he still had to drag it on the ground—cons of being such a tiny mouse with such a heavy object—but at least it wasn’t colliding with a hard, stone stair every step he took. With any luck, it would still be battle-ready in the instance that he needed to defend himself against some cold-blooded killer.

After a few minutes, the mouse managed to get near the water, and began his trek along the shore-line. He would follow the rocky coast for a little while, until he was made to change his course by heck or high water.

[Image: 2agonyw.png]

As soon as I was dropped off on the island, I took a peek at the weapon inside my duffel bag, and was pleased with the results. I then closed the duffel bag. "Well, I think I got something cool." I said to myself. "On the minus side, there isn't anyone nearby to fight." I surveyed my surroundings; a town-like area that reminded me of the suburbs in Central City. I have to wonder how everyone's getting along without me in Central City... I thought to myself. I looked around the houses in the area. Nothing of interest at the time. "Well, this place is well wasted..." I said. I then looked around for something useful. A small bird, not noticing me, was there. "I guess the wildlife could serve as a food source if I need it..." I whispered to myself. "Not right now, I'm still full from that meal in the Recreational Dome, but..." I then decided to set up a camp for the day, looking for sticks to form a campfire or something. I then held back. "Wait...If I create a campfire, that may pose as a problem more than an aide." I said to myself. "People could follow the smoke and find me." I then decided to just start foraging for berries, not wanting to bring harm to the bird I saw so I could eat for today.
[Image: life-is-strange-ep-2-banner.png]

Desco quickly whisked away as an announcement blared through the barracks. Desco summoned Yogsothoth and floated as fast as she could, she floated faster than she walked or ran. She grabbed her stuff and slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and put the collar on. Then followed the instructions where she got something new in her bag and then was quickly stowed away into a black helicopter and sent off.

Desco waited impatiently inside the helicopter. She couldn't see anything, only feel the swap of the chopper as it soared through, well presumably the air but who really knew without being able to see. Desco was separated from Guu yet again, but soon she would be reunited if they could find eachother on the island. Thinking of that Desco pulled out her map and looked it over. Where would Guu be? Desco's spot was probably not it, but should Desco follow the shoreline or go further inland?

The helicopter landed, she could tell that it relaxed a little, and the door opened. Desco floated down to the ground with Yogsothoth at her back and the chopper quickly closed it's door automatically and flew off. Desco's heart was beating fast with excitement at the anticipation of being here. What would she find on the island? After some moments of calming down, Desco tried to flex a muscle she knew all her life but something was wrong as nothing happened. She turned but only her little body to see Yogsothoth was still here. That was new and surprising, but Desco guesses it didn't matter. She could be in battle at any moment!

Harry's trip in the helecopter was mostly uneventful; he regained consciousness strapped to a table, just as a collar clicked shut around his neck. The man returned to a sealed-off cockpit, and Harry was released from the table. A duffel bag with a small nametag reading "Harry D." on the zipper was sitting next to him on the floor. He picked it up and looked inside. Four MRE's, a compass, a map, four bottles of water, and a mass of mechanical parts along with a picture-based book of directions that looked like it was made by IKEA, if IKEA sold something like this. Which they might have, in this universe. He hadn't spotted one in Coruscant.

Being dropped off on the island a short distance from the ground was expected, though he was a little irate at being here at all. Cindy was still at large, too. Hopefully that dragon wouldn't be an issue right away. He picked up his bag and checked his map before the copter's lights were too far away for him to read it. It was a well-drawn map, and his location was marked. He set off south of his current location, making good time with his long legs and all the running he did on a daily basis. He found a road near his dropoff point and followed it, slowing his pace slightly to allow for a longer trek. It was an uneventful few hours; he found a small town but skirted around it on the north, unconsciously making his way somewhere a little cooler. He'd find food in the town, if there was any, when it was daylight. He needed to take advantage of the chill pre-dawn air and the darkness. He would be able to read the map more in the daytime, but he could remember roughly where his destination was.

A search of the local terrain revealed a small cave, more of an alcove in the rock, really. He took shelter inside, mostly from prying eyes that might or might not be there with him, and he opened his duffel bag, breaking out his little surprise and following the picture-book instructions to assemble it. He'd have to ration his food, so having something to do would be most helpful. That, and having this thing ready to use, if the pictures were any guide as to what it did, would be a godsend if someone ambushed him.
[Image: u17lb3R.gif]

Good morning, good morning... Good morning to you... Mami's eyes fluttered open, though it seemed she was going too slowly for somebody's taste. "GO!"

Hands collided with her side and she found herself tumbling out of the side of a helicopter. A high-pitched, girly scream filled the air (Fitting for a 15 year-old girl, of course) as Mami adjusted to her rude awakening far faster than she ever should have needed to. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes as what seemed to be tears began to form on her eyelids from wind rushing past her, though if she was fortunate and her mind served properly, she hadn't fallen far at all. With a swift frontflip Mami landed on the ground cleanly on both feet. "Well, that wake-up did its job better than my alarm, at least," Mami joked.

Pushing aside her 'cool' act for the cameras, wherever they were, Mami looked about. It seemed she had been unlucky, at least mostly, with where she was started off. Mostly flatlands of somewhat tall grass stretched out in every direction, but she could see through very small hills infrastructure in two different directions. Unfortunately, she was wearing her school uniform, though she had intended to change into her Magical Girl outfit first - Without a doubt her uniform would be torn to shreds in all of this if she wasn't lucky. When it came to what she wore, there also seemed to be something around her neck... Something tight, that pushed uncomfortably against the front of her throat. "A collar?"

Suddenly Mami realized she was being inhibited... By more than a bit. She tried to send a ribbon out of her sleeve, but nothing came. Even trying to force her magic to work did nothing. No amount of effort could make Tiro, a musket or anything else appear. "Hm. No overcompensating in here, then," Mami giggled. "If I can't summon weapons of my own, I must have been given one, right?" she thought aloud. A weight was on her back - Not by any means a heavy weight, but a weight nonetheless. It felt rough against the softness of her top, and after moving it around to in front of her involving a lot of shifting between straps, Mami found herself looking at a cylindrical bag that had been hanging lengthwise up and down on her back. Odd.

The Magical Girl placed the bag down gently on the ground and sifted through it. It didn't seem there was much that was desirable, Mami was sure of that. There was water, four bags of what looked like cement, a folded-up map and a compass. After checking directions with the compass, Mami determined the relatively urban-looking area she had seen not long ago was to her east. There was a building not far south, which seemed more convenient but not quite as safe. She would need to decide quickly which way she wanted to go, and perhaps the map would help with that. The map, a crude but clean-looking map as if it was drawn in a very simple 'art' program, with a single marking on it - A big red circle around one square someplace relatively close to the center. Good. This gives me options. But it also puts me in a tight spot. Mami almost laughed at that. A tight spot? Out here? That would be difficult.

She folded up the map, hung the compass on her outfit just over her heart and deemed it unnecessary to look at the food. But where was her weapon? Mami sorted through her bag calmly and carefully for a few seconds, but after her search came to no avail, she started scrambling through her belongings so recklessly she expected to tear the bag clean in two. "Okay, this isn't funny. Where's my weapon--" Mami's eyes landed on... Something. She was familiar with many weapons, but this was a curiosity indeed. This? It was indeed something, but it probably wasn't much compared to what everyone else had. Nervously Mami sniffed it, seeing no , creating one of the most painful sensations she had ever felt in her nose. Tears welled up in her eyes as she put the weapon back - It would serve, and she wanted no more time spent thinking about it than that. If things got bad, it was at the top of her bag...

But she desperately hoped that she wouldn't need it, whatever it was.
[Image: KBSao70.jpg]

Face to Face
#25 Jak Mar vs #08 Crona

Jak smiled softly as he looked at the tweets his pal Daxter had made using the Dataverse device they had purchased before being separated by this ‘competition.’ Now that he was on the island and removed from all of his weapons, he felt a little naked, but as he stared into his big duffel bag, a devious grin spread across his face. It wasn’t a gun and seemed a little outdated, but he knew exactly what the little red cylinders with oversized wicks were used to do.

As he made his way away from his landing spot, Jak crept low to the ground. When he heard some footsteps approaching, he clapped a hand over his mouth and ran to conceal himself in some shrubs. A few moments later, he heard someone walk passed his position.

Time to make a bang…” Jak muttered as he fished out one of the bundles of dynamite and the small lighter included with the set of explosives. With a flick of his thumb, the little flame leapt up, and the white wick started to sizzle away. Leaning out from his hiding place, Jak hurtled the stick of dynamite in front of the other competitor.

What…?” Crona muttered as he glanced down at his feet. Although he hadn’t seen anything like it, the young man quickly figured out what is was, but by then, there was already a thunderous explosion that threw him like a ragdoll.

As Jak Mar slipped into the brush, feeling confident that he was beginning a climb up the leader board, a charred body stirred.

With a whimper, Crona rolled over onto his stomach and crawled into a spot to hide.

Jak Mar has used 1 of his 3 dynamite bundles.
Crona has third degree burns over much of his body and will have impaired hearing and vision. These count as 2 major injuries (+12 Damage Points)
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

The scent of battle stirred in the wind and brushed against the many trees that surrounded him. Shadows cast from above and his eyes wandered to the stars that speckled the sky with cold pinpricks of light. Hard eyes turned over every ounce of his elusive surroundings. No life rattled in the opaque darkness.

Suddenly a chill ran down his spine. The magic he felt raging within him now had left his muscles thick and empty. In its place, a nice steel necklace was wrapped around his throat and choked the air from its natural flow. The same bling seemed to be the origin of his nullified power. Gildarts released a low growl and started to wrap his hands around the silver that bolted itself to his skin. He didn't need any more accessories, he already had a metallic arm and leg.

The only thing that deterred him from pulling on the collar with his powerful grip was the unparalleled nausea that swelled in his gut. Slowly his fingers released and inched away from his first enemy, it had proved to be formidable and one he could never get rid of. On second thought, if it can do this to me with just its presence, imagine what it could do if I triggered something? Technology, as Gildarts had learned in Coruscant, was a force to be reckoned with.

It seemed in this battle, he would be handicapped into fighting without his magic, though it could have been worse and he had certainly been through tougher stretches than this. All his current situation meant was that he would have to rely on wit and his ability to adapt to survive. That, and the strategy he would use to fight against the forty-six other competitors on the island. All bloodthirsty and none to be underestimated.

The Prime sat for a good five minutes under the shade of night, trying to determine what he would do next. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the only time he had ever been free of the burden of his catastrophic power. He was able to freely feel the wind strumming through his hair, taste the crisp night air, and see nature without the distraction of his power stirring from within. His senses buzzed as they tuned to his surroundings for the first time. Perhaps his deprived magic would actually give him a chance to truly live without fear of harming others. On the other hand, now was when he would need it most. What did they expect him to fight with? A stick? "Well, I guess I can manage with just my fists."

As for the duffle bag he had been given, as his eyes fell on it, he only felt a forlorn sense of hope as it distinctly resembled a body bag.

The immortal cast another glance around, Jon was no where to be seen. Huh? Where'd he go? The veteran's chin moved from side to side, as he recalled the events streaming through his mind after the lobby, and a soggy sorrow quenched his dry and fiery thirst for revenge. Erza, I saw you, you were alive. It had become a bittersweet reunion, for they seemed to be worlds apart and separated once more. The other Fairy Tail mage had said some pretty funny things, but now if his assumption was correct, she was on the island too, and in danger. So was Ambrosia's princess.

For a moment, he was almost glad to have been tricked into his predicament, now he had the opportunity to protect the younger generation of up and coming mages. Yet, there were just seven days and everyone else was playing for blood. His blood, her blood, and the blood of an innocent child. Crimson lines streaked behind his eyelids and he felt the rage within him become tangible and utterly overwhelming. The traitor who had sent them here would pay. Gildarts would show them all, "I'm not a man to be taken lightly."
[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus

Before she could process what was happened, she was shuffled out of her place next to Desco in the Barracks and down a long hallway. She had just barely found her again, and now they were separated once more. She was lead into one of 46 helicopters. In a whirlwind of confusion, the employees snapped a collar on her neck and placed a strange weapon in her arm stubs. Within seconds of wearing the collar, she started to feel incredibly sick to the stomach as the helicopter took off to an unknown location.


The Helicoptor door flung open. Guu was ushered out of the chopper and she felt the dirt between her toes. The pain from her stomach now hurt worse than ever. It wasn’t enough for her to stop functioning, but it was one hell of a distraction.

She focused to spread out her senses to find Desco, but somehow, she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Suddenly, what was an all seeing eye in her brain had shut and refused to open. She pondered at this odd turn of events, but then she remembered what Desco said, about how the collars places limits on the contestant’s power. Could it be blocking her enhanced senses? She sighed, she had basically gone back to square one with that power. She came close to cursing Karl Jak under her breath, but she could already hear Doom Guy calling out her hypocrisy. With no super power to turn to, she relied on her other senses.

She was near a forest. The fresh smell of tree bark was pungent against the nose she formed for this purpose. Her ears could here the gentle breeze through the nearby leaves. She appeared to be in a clearing of sorts, in front of her a large building of sorts. At first, she had a curious sense of deja vu from the building until it suddenly hit her.

“Very funny Karl” She said out loud.

She realized she was still clutching her weapon in her arms. While she couldn’t imagine how this thing could be used as a weapon when she first saw it, but now she held it in her paws, it was like the information just seeped into her head. Noticing that it has straps, she hooks it onto the back of her clothing.

Turning her attention to her stomach, she examined the skin of her belly. It was clean, no marks. She tried to reach down her throat, but she wound up coughing and weezing. He belly gave off a growl.

“My… tummy’s rumbling… Do I have a normal stomach now?”

Working off that hunch, she pulled out one of the MRE’s from her bag. She ripped one open, and pulled out one of the contents. It was labeled as “maple sausage.” She pulled out the meat and popped it in her mouth. The taste was horrible, it was cold against her tongue, but she was desperate.

She tried to remember how humans used to do this. She remember them grinding up the food in their mouths. It was so baffling to her in the past why people would spend so much time preparing food if they were just going to destroy it anyways, but after the experience of this thing in her mouth, she wondered if the time made it more pleasant…

She shapeshifted some teeth, taking a few tries to get human teeth and slowly grounds the strange matter in mush and twinged as some of the fell down her throat. However, it did ease the pain a bit.

She kept eating the sausage, gagging, forcing it down the best she could. As her brain was focused on that, he legs started walking forward in search of Desco, blind to the path ahead.
[Image: MUsY55C.jpg]
[Image: sN7AejK.jpg]


Neal's deep meditation was far more intense than any he had ever entered before. In the real world, or at least his home dimension, he would have become stiff within a few hours. However, this world was not his own - and for that matter he was not the same misdirected youth that lived in that stifling dimension. Neal was a man of his own creation. He could, in theory, do anything.

Knock, Knock, Knock! The heavy hand knocking at the door brought the man from his Zen. It took almost ten whole seconds for his heart to speed back up and his breath to fill his blood with enough oxygen to support an active body. "Competitor Neal, we are here to escort you to your starting position."

So it begins, Neal mused to himself. He rose to his feet and brought his arms over his head for a deep breath. The rush of oxygen had the room spinning for a moment until he exhaled, and then took in another deep breath to even himself out. His duffle bag was next to the door, easy to pick up before he opened up to the Syntax workers. "I'm ready."


Not a word was shared through the trip. A few times, Neal's escorts tapped, or called his name - but only to make sure he was still breathing. Still bordering on that Zen, he spent every second he could mentally and physically preparing for the events about to befall him.

It may not have been the wisest move to meditate for the last three days before undertaking the competition. Even the breaks where he ate and relieved himself felt automated at the time. And for the whole period, Neal could not remember actually falling asleep. Then again, maybe he simply slept the whole time instead of meditated? At that depth it was hard to truly determine.

Either way, the moment his escort opened the helicopter door, Neal takes up his dufflebag and moves to the exit, gaining life with every inch closer he came. The helicopter was still descending, but within ten foot of the ground, Neal dives from the skyborne vessel. He lands on his feet, but breaks his fall with a roll before springing back to his feet once again.

What kind of hellhole did they pick for this bloodbath? Neal internally inquired. His quandary was met by even more questions when he noted that his surroundings were surprisingly serene. He had even landed near a road on a grassy field that had obviously been meant for landing purposes. What the hell?

Or lack there off, would be a better exclimation. There was no "hell" to speak of, no fires or brimstone to instill fear. There was not even true darkness, Neal could tell by the lush green of the surroundings that the current darkness was nothing more... than nighttime.

With a shake of his head, Neal dropped onto his rear and pulled his bag into his lap. It was time to survey his starting gear. Sure enough, answers came in the form of a map. His location was clearly marked, but not those of his opponents. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Still, he seemed to be in a rather opportune location. Three hotspots, all within an hour's walk.

Click. Idea... I'll make them come to me... like lambs to the slaughter. Ideas for a Mob Grinder filled Neal's skull, rattling about like dancing succubi. Attractive yet monstrous, tantalizing, yet devious, promising yet conniving. And what shall I use to slay my foes with? Neal inquired giddily as he digs through his bag. Food, water, map, compass, and...

"I swear to Omni, those bastards are pure evil." He stares at the special item, given at the last moment to make or break the competitor. He stares, heatedly, at the small, cardboard box in his hand, like his eyes could melt its surface. Alas, nothing melted. As he begrudgingly stares at it, the box stares back at him.


Talk about a wildcar--"Goddamnit I'm making jabs at my own downfall!" Neal's free hand flicks to his forehead with a mighty Slap! The sheer ferocity of the face-palm did little to stifle the utter defeat he suffered to the whims of whomever came up with this competition. Might as well find a ditch to go hide in... So much for playing offensively.

Taking the map up again, He peers it over. "Guess I'm going west." Neal grumbled. With a weighted spirit, he rose to his feet, stuffing all his supplies back into his bag. Fuck my life, he mentally moped as feet fall into an automated stride, bringing him onto the road.

When the blindfold was taken off of Blink's head, she quickly realized she was the last one in her helicopter. She could hear out of her pointy ears the instructions being shouted by the Syntex worker that was tossing competitors out of the door. She couldn't make out the words - but she could tell what was happening. The sound of helicopter was drowning out the details, but the game was starting. This much she could tell. Now with her blindfold off, she could clearly see that nobody else was inside the body of the chopper except the Syntex guard. "It's your turn!" he shouted, loud enough so she could hear him over the sound of the rotors. "Get ready to jump!"

She looked to the right, where he was sliding her along her seat towards the open door. She was staring at the vast island underneath her, thinking about how beautiful it looked. She could see a mountain towards the middle of it, and some landmarks at the foot of it - but nothing that could properly identify where she was in relation to it. She couldn't tell what direction she was looking. One thing she could tell was that she was along the shore line. When she looked down, she could see water. That would make her exit from the helicopter a little easier.

"Here's your bag!" The man shouted, practically hitting her with the duffel bag It didn't feel heavy. That wasn't good. "Get ready to jump! One! Two!"

She didn't hear three. She wasn't sure he actually said three. He pushed her sideways and she jumped off the floor of the helicopter. With the duffel bag in her hand, she went flying through the air, towards the water below. Her eyes locked onto the land a good fifty feet in front of her. It was good thing she could teleport...

A flash of pink light clouded her vision. She was expecting to land onto the sandy shore. Instead, she had only teleported about ten feet in front of her, not nearly enough to get there. By the time she could figure out her teleporting hadn't worked properly, she landed right into the ocean. There was a moment of panic as she kicked her feet and clung tightly to the bag - her only companion in this game of survival. When her pink head came out of the water, she again teleported forward, making it a little closer. It took one more jump forward in space to finally put her feet on the sandbar and she could heft herself out of the dirty water. She coughed up some water she had swallowed accidentally, burning her throat.

When she stumbled her way completely out of the water, she dropped onto her knees, still panting. This was it. This was real. It took a little longer to hit her then she would have liked, in retrospect. All of the pre-game hype with the fancy park and the tons of restaurants really lightened the situation up. But here she was; in a game where it was kill or be killed. Less then a week ago she woke up in a strange universe and now she was here. With a bag of rations and a collar.

The collar! As she remembered it, her hand moved up to it. It was steel and cool to the touch. She had a flashback of her days as a prisoner to Apocalypse. It was not a good memory.

Her green eyes shifted to the sight of her duffel bag. It was long, but as she recalled it was heavy, which meant her assigned weapon wasn't going to be big. She quickly unzipped it and took a look. Four water bottles. Four food containers. A compass, which she used to quickly get her bearings as to what part of the island she was on. Then her map. She knew immediately where she was upon looking at it. Then her eyes found the 'weapon.'

It could call it a weapon. Her fingers wrapped around the action figure and held it was. It was a barbie doll, but dressed in a pink garb with a silly glittered mask across it's face. The coolest part was the wings behind it, which Blink guessed served as a superhero cape. Her lips curled into a smile. It was http://beautiful.

She was soaking wet on a strange island in a strange universe. She had no friends and no idea what she was going to do. She had no weapon, but maybe this item was more important then that. It was a symbol that she wasn't in this by herself. As she stood up, duffel bag in hand and barbie doll in her pocket, she didn't feel quite as alone anymore.
[Image: blink2k15.png]

Face to Face
#45 Blackfire vs #23 Guu, #38 Desco, and #37 Luffy

The Tamaranean Queen scowled as she walked away from the population center. Now that she was separated from the rest of the competitors, she was antsy and anxious to test herself.

As she made her way down what was quickly degrading into a countryside street, the raven-haired girl spotted someone or something approaching her. Blackfire continued her forward march but kept her hand ready if she needed to draw the weapon on her back. “You’re a strange little one,” the monarch muttered as she stopped a few yards away from the child-sized girl with the pink hair.

“Hi, I’m Guu.” She spoke with flat tones that made Blackfire furrow a brow. A further glance showed a circular shield resting on the tiny girl’s back.

What are you?” The monarch asked as she tilted her head and spoke with just a twinge of disdain.

“I’m a princess,” Guu said matter-of-factly as a smug grin spread across Blackfire’s beautiful features.

“Well where I am from, I was a queen,” the Tamaranean smirked. “So why don’t you come serve me, tiny princess? We could get long so well.”

Guu shook her head. “I’ll pass, I got some friends.”

“Then you’re just another obstacle,” Blackfire sneered as she reached behind her back and grabbed the survival shovel. “And that means I’m going to have to hurt you.”

The pink-haired shook her head, prompting the queen to don a look of confusion until she heard a few more footsteps approaching opposing sides. Glancing to her flanks, the Tamaranean realized that she was being encircled by a lanky man in a straw-hat and another small girl-looking thing with tentacles.

“Friends?” Blackfire sneered as she rushed forward and swung the shovel down at Guu’s face. In a surprising show of quickness, the pink-haired ‘girl’ drew her shield and pulled it in the path on the oncoming shovel, which shrieked and spat sparks as it slid across the vibranium surface and failed to find purchase on the unique metal. As the Tamaranean princess reeled back and tried to land another swing, she was clipped in the side of the face by a fist.

Blackfire bit down a shout as she put a hand up to her bruised face and turned in the direction of the attack. She watched with only a small amount of awe as the stretched out fist retracted back to its owner—the man in the straw-hat. Turning back to face her initial foe, the monarch swung back her shovel, but before she could bring it crashing forward once again, Guu almost lazily flung the shield, catching Blackfire in the chin with enough force to nearly tear her head clean off its shoulder. Instead of that gory scene, the woman’s skull slammed back and she felt the taste of blood in her mouth from biting down too hard.

Realizing that this wasn’t the place for her to be, Blackfire turned away and stumbled a few paces away from Guu. She made it barely over a yard before a pair of extendable arms smashed into her face and shoulder. With none of the grace befitting a woman of her stature, Blackfire stumbled and crashed into the dusty ground. She glanced up in time to see the other girl-creature coming at her.

“I’ll remember this,” Blackfire seethed as she shoved off the ground and threw all her failing strength into a jump. She managed to create enough separation to avoid the next pair of fist attacks, but her erratic landing had her hit too hard on her right leg, which snapped like a twig beneath her own weight.

With a blood-laced scream, the woman fled back into the city to avoid the bizarre threesome.

Blackfire has suffered a broken leg and some serious bruising to her neck and jaw -- This is a major injury and a minor injury (+10 Damage Points)
Guu has the Vibranium Shield
Blackfire has the Survival Shovel
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

Face to Face
#17 Lubbock vs #01 Android 18

Lubbock was feeling pretty good. The whole ‘preshow’ event had let him meet a lot of really interesting people, and while he wasn’t huge into the whole collar thing, he figured he’d make the best of it.

Up ahead, the street vanished into a tunnel. The map told him he was looking at the entrance to the ‘East Blair Tunnel.’ With a nod, the former assassin rolled up the map and stuffed it into his bag. Before throwing it over his shoulders, he scooped out his ‘weapons’ that the people had provided him with before he had been thrown out of the helicopter. Although the oversized green gloves didn’t seem that threatening, he couldn’t help but feel like he could smash the world as he slipped them over his hands. In the event that things really hit the fan, he knew he could circumvent the collar to use his wires…

With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that.

Smiling and trying to feel a little upbeat (maybe he’d find those friends he’d made in the preshow); Lubbock made his way toward the tunnel. As he got closer, he spotted a young woman casually leaning against the wall.

“Hey!” Lubbock shouted, waving on of his giant green hands. The closer he got, the more he started to see how beautiful this woman was… Her blonde locks looked as if they had recently been styled, and her eyes seemed to peer right into his soul. He’d seen a few ladies in the preshow but none of them looked like this woman.

And yet… as he drew closer, Lubbock started to see the faultlines. Among all the beauty were a collection of scars and the traces of bruises that would never quite heal. One of those gorgeous eyes had a red patch that seemed to be a leftover remnant of some abuse.

“You all right?” Lubbock asked. For that fleeting moment, his need to comfort a pretty face won out over common sense.

That is… until he saw the crossbow and heard the whirl off the quarrel as it zipped toward him.

With a grunt, Lubbock dropped down to a knee, his eyes falling to the crossbow bolt buried through his left leg. The green-haired man glanced up to see the woman racing at him. Her eyes weren’t so beautiful anymore.

No, they were horrifying.

Instinct kicked in, and Lubbock found his hands moving as the collar around his neck beeped. The noise made the woman stop and stare, and that was the short moment the former assassin needed to summon the thread blade. With a grunt, he thrust the improvised sword at the woman’s gut, and while he missed her stomach, the blade ripped through her side.

Even as her blood was splashed against the pavement, the woman didn’t scream. No, she’d expended all her screams months ago.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the quarrel and tore it back out through Lubbock’s leg. “Follow me, and I’ll make you regret every moment of your life,” she rasped, her voice hollow and devoid of life as she vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving a stunned young man clutching at his leg and wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

Lubbock has taken a crossbow bolt through his leg (and back out again!) -- Major injury (+4 Damage)
Android 18 has a nasty slash on her side -- Minor Injury (+2 Damage)
Lubbock has the Hulk hands / Android 18 has the crossbow
Lubbock has used his Level 0 Super Move, Thread Blade (-1 SP)
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

Face to Face
#22 Neal vs #35 Wartortle

Neal strode into the diner and looked around. It was a nice little place, with that nice vintage flair that probably attracted all the hip, young crowds if this island ever had a living population.

He’d only been on this island for a little bit, and he’d yet to hear any cannons firing in the distance. Wasn’t this supposed to be the Hunger Games? Wasn’t there supposed to be some massive bloodletting in the opening minutes that would set a ghastly tone for the remainder of the competition? Neal felt kind of bummed out as he let the doors of the diner swing shut behind him.

“Well I guess this a nice place to relax,” the young man muttered beneath his breath as he walked over and took a seat at one of the many empty booths.

Just as he was about to relax, a rasping, diabolical voice caused him to jolt up in the booth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, Homo sapiens?

Spinning, Neal saw who was speaking to him. “…a Pokémon?” He muttered as he sized up the Wartortle glaring across the diner at him.

“You know what I am, Human?” The reptilian terrorist spoke through a toothy grin as he hopped over the bar and glared at the diner’s newest visitor. “But do you know who I am?”

“…A Water Type?” Neal asked as he glanced around to make sure this wasn’t some type of terrible prank. He could handle a lot of the goofy things, but the fact that he was being menaced by a Pokémon in a diner in the dead of night was almost enough to stretch his suspension of disbelief.

“Har… Har… Har…” Wartortle remarked as he reached behind his back and grabbed something. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Uhh,” Neal dug into his coat pocket and fished something out—a piece of laminated paper. “Want to play Uno?”

“Die.” With that, Wartortle pulled out a gun and pulled the trigger. Neal had all of less than a second to react before the first nail punched through his coat and scrapped bone. As the second and third sunk into his flesh, he did the only desperate thing that came to his head, and he threw the card in the hopes that he could channel his inner Gambit (or Twisted Fate, perhaps). Although no explosions followed, the whir of the nail gun stopped long enough for the young man to hear the incredulous reaction. “You threw a fucking card at me?”

Instead of responding, Neal channeled his inner desire to keep living, and he threw himself through the window of the diner as the nails started to zip through the air around his face and other essential pieces of his anatomy.

When he hit the ground, Neal made sure he had his bag, and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. In the span of a few hours, he’d gone from chumming it up with Jak and Daxter to having a cigar-smoking Pokémon try and murder him with a nail gun.

This was either the worst day ever or the start of a fantastic story.

Neal has been shot up with nails... to channel my inner Wartortle: "It fucking hurts." -- They count as a Minor Injury, +4 Damage
Neal has the Uno Cards / Wartortle has the Nail Gun
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

Gilgamesh yawned himself awake, he was just taking a nice relaxing nap on the most plebian bed he could find. He yawned and stretched his arms before letting them slump to the ground. His skin brushing up against the grass and the breeze flowing past his skin. Gilgamesh looked at the trees and the navy blue sky and he smiled, the place was so serene. A look of confusion came onto his face. Trees? Grass? Wind? Where the hell was he? He heard Karl's voice and he could imagine the game master sitting back and enjoying a nice martini. How dare he move the King while he was enjoying a nap?!

"DAMN YOU KARL JAK!" The King shouted at the sky, his voice echoing through the trees as he realized that there were forty-six other primes on the island with him. He stood up and noticed a black duffel bag next to him. Damn game...The King kicked the duffle bag and he heard his contents jingle around. There was something soft in there too.

“Hey ya’ bastard! Can’t a pony get some sleep around here you Golden Prick of a Bitch!” Gilgamesh’s eyes darted to his duffel bag which the voice had mysteriously emanated from. “Hey you Bold-Speeched bitch, open up the damn bag or else!” The King chuckled for a bit before looking at the bag with terror. His duffel bag could talk...and why was it so vulgar?! Gilgamesh leaned over and began to unzip the bag, his every move tense and his eyes wide. He opened the bag to see the standard living materials, water, food, a map, and a stuffed animal. He took a double take. A fucking stuffed animal? The pony was red and black and appeared to wear a mask. It’s lifeless eyes stared at Gilgamesh and he turned it over to see if there was some sort of radio.

“What? Are you looking for my dick? NEWS FLASH! I’m a stuffed animal you fucking beastial pervert.” Gilgamesh looked up in surprise to see the once lifeless eyes furrow and glare at the King.

“What is this? A toy that may speak?” He looked at the spite-filled pony with curiosity and a hint of disgust.

“I don’t like the way you look at me.” The animal somehow opened it’s stuffed mouth and chomped down on the King’s hand. Gilgamesh recoiled in pain, his hand slightly bleeding from the animal’s sharp teeth? The stuffed animal spit on the floor, ”Man you taste like an arrogant prick.”

Gilgamesh’s patience thinned and he grabbed the stuffed animal up. “Now look here you. I am the King of all Kings. I am Gilgamesh th-”

“Yeah yeah yeah cut the bullshit.” Gilgamesh’s face turned red and the pony’s eyes widened in confusion as the King brought his hands around the pony's neck.

“How dare you speak to me like this mongrel! I am the mighty Gilgamesh and you shall not insult me” The pony made choking noises before laughing. The King’s eyes widened with anger as he began to speak in comprehensive slurs.

“You know I’m a stuffed animal right? And I don’t like the way you're treating me. HEY! OTHER DA CONTESTANTS! Come here! Yeah there you go. Gilgamesh is on Row Two of the grid that you should have printed out and for the Column-”

Gilgamesh released the animal's throat and kneeled to match heights the thing. “No no no. Please. The King sighed and rubbed his brow. “If you are all the help I have, I’ll gladly cooperate.” Gilgamesh forced a smile and the pony began to evaluate his truthfulness.

“Now I definitely didn’t like the italics you put on gladly but I’ll accept your apology. Name is Deadpony and I suggest we get out of Row 2 so we don’t get roflstomped like Blackfire did.” Gilgamesh nodded firmly before picking up the duffel bag as well as Deadpony. The dawning realization that nothing the animal said had made sense had finally set in.


“Oh I know we’re going to get along just fine you Gold-Plated ass.” The King nodded before sending another glare to the animal that lay in his hand.
[Image: GilgameshDAsig_zpsecqjfngm.png][Image: NB_BadgeRight.png][Image: RhzfCY6.gif] - Credit to Ezzy

"Alright, we're here. Drop the boy off!" The pilot shouted over the intercom. The other man in the helicopter slapped Gin across the face. Gin awoke with a jolt and put a hand on his cheek in pain, "OW! Dammit, why'd you slap me?!" He shouted. The man simply gestured towards the left, Gin's gaze shifted to the view outside the window. He saw an island outside and reacted appropriately, "Whoa! When did I get a window in my room!" he said excitedly. The man face palmed and corrected Gin, "The competition has begun, we took you out here while you were asleep. This is where you get off. " he said.

"Oh...OH." Gin quickly stood up and looked around, his duffel bag was in the corner of the helicopter. Gin grabbed it and quickly hung it around his back. The man opened the Helicopter door and gave him the signal to go, to which Gin obliged. Gin ran forward and swan dived out of the chopper into the ocean.


Resurfacing, Gin got his bearings and began to swim to shore. It seems he was near some sort of peninsula, but he wouldn't be sure where until he made it to shore. As he swam, he felt something brush against his foot, he turned his head and saw nothing there. Gin ducked his head underwater and saw something swimming towards him. "Is that a..." Gin's eyes widened in horror, and he quickly resumed swimming. He swam and swam until his arms began to hurt, finally, his feet touched the ocean floor and he began to run out of the water and onto shore. A large seafaring species came out of the water after Gin, only to beach itself on the sand.

"YEAH! NOT SO TOUGH ON LAND NOW ARE YA JAWS!" Gin shouted at the shark. He then delivered a hard kick to its face, prompting the shark to snap at Gin, causing him to jump back in fear of getting bitten. "Right, note to self, don't kick sharks. It just pisses them off." He thought. Gin turned around and began to walk away, hearing the sounds of the flailing shark behind him. Gin stopped and looked back at the shark, taking pity of the creature. He walked back to the shark and pushed it back to the water, quickly backing up in case the shark was still mad about the kick. It quickly swam away, leaving Gin alone. He sat down on the beach and opened his bag, searching through it. He found his map, compass, food, and..."Whoaaaaaaa. THIS IS SO COOOOOL! I ALWAYS WANTED ON OF THESE!" Gin shouted. Gin noticed a couple other things in his bag too, they seemed to be add-ons for his new toy. He examined them both, and attached the one he decided on. Putting the other stuff back in his bag, he decided to try it out. Slinging both things around his back, Gin turned towards the island and got in a ready position. He then pressed the big red button on the side and it burned to life.

[Image: 6qbi4j.png]
"A waking dream of life and light."

It had barely even registered Karl Jak's voice and looked around him before he was attacked. With a great heave, Crona managed to sit upwards after being unceremoniously tossed through the air. Had he stepped on a landmine of some kind, or had he been ambushed? At the moment, he couldn't tell, but whatever had happened made him wrack his body in pain, which was accompanied by a ringing in his ears and made his eyes water badly.

Well, not a such a great start.

The boy looked around for any sign of an attacker, but his impaired eyes didn't really reveal much more then the surrounding trees to him. He really hoped if there was someone out there, they wouldn't return, as the boy did his best to rub his eyes and soothe his badly burnt skin with his hands it became apparent to him that he couldn't afford to take another his like that.

At the very least, at least he could hardly hear Ragnarok complaining about Crona's idiocy over the ringing in his ears. The boy lets out the tiniest of smiles, at least theres one silver lining.

Gritting his teeth and holding his side while supporting himself on the tree he was hiding behind, he gave another quick look around for an attacker before moving as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the explosion, his unopened duffel bag in one hand and the other clenching tight to his side. No way he was going back to get vengeance with whoever blew him up, he wasn't in particularly good fighting condition. What he really needed was to regroup with his allies if he was to have a chance of surviving. Gilgamesh and the other Primes from New Babylon would have to be on this island somewhere, surely.

"WHAT THE HELL...IDIOT...DUMBASS...REGENERATE...STUPID..." Crona hears a few of Ragnarok's words through the ringing in his ears, but only one really stood out to him. Regenerate. True enough, thanks to the collar he had to wear on the island, he knew that most of his regenerative powers would be incapable of helping him. Still, the boy pushed on, it didn't quite help him much, but it didn't change the plan of regrouping, perhaps he would need some actual medical supplies for once, and as he looked down at his torn and burnt body, he knows he could use it.

Wait, what was his item? He hadn't even been able to check before he was attacked, he takes a moment opening up hoping for some bandages or any sort of healing salves, but instead all that was revealed was some sort of clear blue flask. He gave a defeated sigh, it didn't look like it was going to regenerate his wounds, but it was better then nothing.

He zips the duffel bag up again and continues on, a lake passing him by on the left and trees upon trees standing on the right, until he saw something that wasn't forest. Seemed like a young man, perhaps even a boy like him, with a gleaming metal bandanna adorning his face. It took only a moment to recognize one of his supposed allies from New Babylon, and even though every fiber in his body told him to run, this was about as close to a friend as he was going to get aside from running into Gilgamesh himself.

"Hey! The boy squeaks out, clearing his voice as well as he could before waving with a free hand. "You...uh, you're with Gilgamesh, right? He says as loudly as he could manage, though he still kept some distance. There was no hiding that he was injured, and there was no way he could defeat the Prime if it turned out he had sinister intentions. Unlikely, but such a possibility was always at the back of Crona's mind.
[Image: more_of_da_crona__page_doll____free_to_u...82ftrt.png]



Dr. McNinja sat up and rubbed his neck.

“Owwwwww,” he repeated quietly.

He had been dropped from what seemed to be a height that should not have been legally allowed. The damn helicopter pilot was… Well, okay, Dr. McNinja had pissed the pilot off, perhaps. A tiny bit. Dr. McNinja had thought the pilot might be pregnant. He was not.

The doctor tried to crack his neck, but was impeded by the power collar around his neck “This just gets better and better,” he muttered.

Dr. McNinja quickly searched the area. He had landed directly onto an open space. Fearing detection, he quickly slipped into a nearby brush and crouched behind it, looking at the road. He unzipped his duffel bag, slowly, and took the map and put it in his pocket.

“Now, where the hell am I,” he muttered. Looking at the map, it had marked his current location. If he followed along the road, he could go to the Rendezvous point and meet with his allies.

He looked inside his bag more. The food and water he had noticed was still there. The compass, which he realized would be super helpful, slipped into his pocket very nicely. He looked at the glass to see which way he was facing. The red arrow quivered towards himself. He looked forward.

“Then it’s…”

He whirled around, trying to find the direction.


Before he started walking, he saw the weapon he had been assigned. He smiled.

“Wow, that specialized training I did with Dad will be… incredibly helpful.”

Dr. McNinja tucked everything into his bag and started moving through the trees of the nearby woods away from the path. Thanks to his ninja skills, he was able to move pretty silently. Preeeeetty silent. After a few minutes of traveling, he started hearing a noise. The waterfall.

“Headed the right way, I guess,” Dr. McNinja thought.

He continued to go to the Rendezvous point.
[Image: 665000_mcninja_by_cavenglok-dch0qt5.jpg]
Odd hours. Call for appointment.

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread:
1 Guest(s)

Mobile Version
All rules pages are ©Greg Harris. All copyrighted characters, names and locations are property of their respective copyright holders.
Forum software by © MyBB Theme © iAndrew 2016