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Day One: Part 1

Alain sprinted down the path then took a detour into the forest just in case the green-haired prick had any friends. Checking if the guy was dead was less of a concern than staying alive, and even if they somehow managed to survive that beating, they weren't going to catch up with those injuries. Alain stopped to catch his breath and put the ball back into his cloak. Thank christ.

Seemed that ball was more useful than he thought. The mercenary couldn't deny that this thing would help more than a little bit. Didn't slow him down either. All he needed was a weapon of his own, and anybody he fought with would be dealing with two opponents at once. But then came the problem of finding others. The jackass back there didn't seem to have anything of worth other than that blade, and their corpse was either sinking into the ocean, or they were limping away. He didn't care enough to find out which.

Alain turned around just in case he did have pursuers, then kept running up the nearby hill regardless. According to the map, there was something around here, and he wasn't gonna stop until he made it. Not like he had a choice, stopping could've spelled his doom. The only thing to do was hope nobody else was nearby, or at least somebody he could take down. The slash wound on his shoulder stung like hell, but the mercenary had taken far worse.

Then, Karl Jak's voice was heard throughout the entire island. A weapon at the school, eh? Alain looked at his map. It was pretty far from here. He might not arrive in time to get the package...but others would fight for it. If he was lucky, he could hide out and let his new friend do the work. If that failed, choke the last guy out while they were distracted and beat 'em to death while they were unconscious.

The black sigils spread across his cloak as he faded, approaching the school under the cover of invisibility. This should be fun...
Super Buu Wrote:Omni points at Mickey. "Now you are a porpoise."
Retane Wrote:IM annoyed and I have to go make babies
Doomguy Wrote:@ Guu, Because we're talking about sticky white stuff and chaos gods
Dante Wrote:When all else fails, kick 'em in the dick
Demetri Malius Wrote:I wish I kept fucking Guu


Dr. McNinja rubbed his mask. There was greasy crap all over it. He hated getting crap on his mask; switching out masks to wash the dirty one was always a pain when you were not allowed to ever have a mask off. And in this place, it was unlikely there was any place with true privacy. Or safety, for that matter. What even was this stuff? Should he be worried? What if it was a horrible disease? Or poison? Or worse, acne-inducer? There were no river monsters nearby. Acne would the end of him. Nobody would see it, but it’d be itchy as hell. Does acne itch? He should probably know that.

He slid behind a corner of the clinic, hoping that the Red Death rip-off wouldn’t notice him. He checked his claw. Very similar grime was all over his brand-new claws. If he had his equipment, he could analyze it, see how to fight back against it.

“Like Batman would,” the voice in his head commented.

“Exactly like Batman would. But I can’t do that right now.”

He sneaked into another bush, doing his best to wipe off the slime from his head. It smelled awful, too.

The clinic had been taken. It was no longer a safe place to be.

He took out his map and read the Prime descriptions. It sounded like he had just escaped Okor. Impressive credentials, he supposed. Glad he got away before Okor did too much damage.

Dr. McNinja sighed. He had to find his allies. Jak. Delsin. Where were they, anyway? They were supposed to meet up at the clinic. They didn’t know about Okor, and he had no way of communicating with them.

Suddenly, he heard Karl Jak announce the reward.

“Okay, package. Lovely,” Dr. McNinja thought, “But the more appealing thing is all those people flocking to get it. If I can watch - silently - and ambush a particularly weak one, I can take them out, yeah?”

“You could also be caught,” the voice said.

“Totes worth,” Dr. McNinja replied.

He snuck into another section of the Clinic and almost jumped of fright. Delsin was hiding behind the corner he had just turned.

“GAH” he cried out, then clapped his mouth shut and whispered the following, “Delsin! You’re here! We gotta hide somewhere. The clinic is not safe. I just ran into someone who, well, I think he punched me and infected me with something. Okor. That was his name.”

Dr. McNinja suddenly grew wary that this rather empty building was now occupied with himself and the enemy Okor, and he just shouted at the top of his lungs… twice. First time, intentionally… But second time? That surely gave away his location.

“We need to move,” Dr. McNinja muttered, Now.

“Hey, relax, man,” Delsin whispered, “I set up mines all around the building. No one’s coming in through the obvious routes.”

“Oh. Nice. Alright, we need to find Jak, and then deal with Okor. Let’s hide out somewhere outside the building.”

“So he doesn’t come in unprepared,” Delsin agreed.

Dr. McNinja took another nervous glimpse around the building. “I’ll see you outside.”

He silently snuck out through a window and climbed into a tree branch. He crouched, and watched carefully, listening for any footsteps.
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Odd hours. Call for appointment.

The fluttering of helicopter rotors abruptly woke him up.

“Alright, loser,” a voice said over the deafening sound of the engine, “Time to get going.” Mickey picked himself up off the ground, looking up at the man who had clambered out of the co-pilot’s seat. He held the mouse’s duffel bag, and looked at the King with a gleeful sadism.

What was going on? The mouse vaguely remembered having some sort of episode in his barracks room, and then all of a sudden, he had fallen unconscious. The next thing he remembered was right now.

“Smile for the cameras, mouse-boy!” the co-pilot chuckled, tossing the bag at Mickey. The duffel hit the mouse with much more force than he had expected, and he noticed that it was quite a lot heavier than he remembered it being in the barracks room. The force sent the King stumbling back, and a few steps later, no longer did he have anything underneath his feet.

All of a sudden, he was falling, falling—

“Hey, snap out of it.”

Mickey did not know how long ago he had stopped walking. It could not have been too long ago, since the red-haired girl was only a few yards ahead—unless, of course, she stood there staring for longer than Mickey expected she had. The mouse shook off the memory; there was no use dwelling on the past now. He had signed up for the game, and now he was in the thick of it. No turning back, unfortunately. All he could do was stick to his morals.

“Sorry,” the mouse squeaked, picking up his pace and reuniting with the girl. They had been silent for most of the trip so far, though admittedly they had only been walking together for only an hour or so. He knew that he probably shouldn’t trust her, but he had been happy to see that she, too, wasn’t eager to get in a fight. He had been very, very nervous that the first person he ran into would force his hand, but this girl, like him, seemed all too content to not immediately meet violence with violence. At least, for the moment.

Eventually, though, they both would be forced to test that conviction. Even as he walked, that realization sent Mickey’s gaze straight to the ground and he let out a sigh. Out of the corner of his big eyes, he could see the girl look over at him.

She, too, took a breath. “I know it’s hard,” she said, stopping for a second and looking down at him. The mouse stared up at her, trying to think of a response. But he didn’t really know what to say. The awkwardness lingered in the air, and the red-haired girl’s lips pursed uncomfortably. She nodded once, and turned to keep walking, trying to make the best out of this weird situation. Mickey followed her.

It struck him suddenly that he did not know what to call his knew travel buddy. “Uh, hey,” he spoke up, looking up at the armored girl, “what’s your name, anyway?”

The crimson-haired girl halted again, casting a nervous glance down at her diminutive companion. The mouse realized that she must be just as nervous about him as he was about her. He would offer a show of good faith, then. “Mickey Mouse,” he introduced himself, putting on the best smile he could manage in this gruesome situation and offering up one of his gloved hands for her to shake.

She stared at it for a second, then tentatively took it. “Erza,” she smiled. “Erza Scarlet.”
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Harry looked up from his now-completed project, the strange yet somewhat familiar item oddly comfortable in his hands. Not anywhere near as comfortable as his staff would be, but obviously Karl had known better than to let a wizard have his foci with him. Part of him was sickened by the whole thing. He hadn't gotten his revenge on Cindy before, so he had been stuck in the competition after all. He'd have to ask the hunter why that circle hadn't worked, before he took her down. That is, provided Samus didn't find her first. Karl's voice rang through the island, and Harry chuckled. "If that isn't a trap..."

The wizard set his weapon down and opened up his duffel bag. He'd have to go foraging, and soon judging by the supply of water and food they'd given him. Which was, of course, the point. But for now, he wasn't hungry. He opened a bottle of water and took a small drink, though. Keeping hydrated would be extremely important. He leaned against the wall and tried to call fire, more to see if he could, but the collar prickled and stung and disrupted his concentration like thorn manacles would have; the wizard suppressed a grunt more out of reflex than anything else. Still, it wasn't as severe as the manacles were; while he wouldn't be using any offensive spells unless he really needed it, he could definitely use a less-chaotic force than fire. Not that calling ice would help him much here.

Harry kept one hand on the item he'd assembled and slowed his breathing, leaning against the cave wall. Sleep wasn't coming to him yet, but he wasn't going to exert himself just yet. Wait until the daylight hours for that. Priority one would be to find Samus, which might be easier than he expected with her technicolor suit of armor. Safety in numbers. He hoped that Blues hadn't been involved in this; giant monster kill or no, he was a kid. This Karl Jak guy wouldn't shanghai a kid into this kind of game, right?
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Guu wandered a while, barely getting her sausage down as she gnawed on each one like a dog on a chew toy. She could feel the pain in her belly go away with each one. As she finished the meat, she stowed the rest of the MRE away in her bag. She could still feel the last bit of grinded up mush sliding down her esophagus.

“This is horrifying…” She said plainly.


Her attention was caught by the sound of that familiar voice. Sure enough, not far from where she stood, a familiar purple demon girl floated, a giant horrific monster behind her. Guu didn’t show it, but seeing her again brought a lot of warmth to her chest. She wasted no time to run towards the young child and pounce her with a big hug. The height difference alone forced Desco’s embrace to hold her with her feet dangling off the ground.

”I’m glad we weren’t apart for very long.” Guu declared, hiding the fact she was overjoyed by what was an amazing coincidence. Desco gently lowered her back to the ground.

”Desco was right to move away from the water! the demon child stated. The pink little girl nodded with a chuckle, as she sported a small little smile.

However, the beautiful moment was quickly interrupted. A voice in the distance brought their attention to the familiar straw-hat donning man approaching with a mile wide smile and a hand outstretched and waving.


“Well, according to the map, we’re here!” Yelled the straw-hat pirate Luffy. Guu glared at him, annoyed.

”This is the exact same place we were before. Did you literally lead us in circles?” She said, aggravated.

Guu sighed heavily.

”We’ll wait until morning to explore. Better to do this when we have light.” She said, her tone toxic to the ear. “And I’LL be in charge of the navigation.”

“Sure thing bubbleguu!” He said cheerfully.

While Guu was aggravated at his shite directional skills, she was still glad she added him to the team. She didn’t have the enhanced senses to know if he was lying, but she could tell from just the way he acts that he’s the type that only speaks from the heart. That wasn’t much of a compliment; he was too dumb to speak from anywhere else. However, he was strong willed, and if he was willing to help her protect Desco from harm, she could use all the help she could get in this island of murder and death.

Luffy shot Guu with another one of his grins.

“Ooh, let’s twist our arms together!” He suggested.

Through out their failed navigation adventures, Luffy had been getting Guu to do feats with their stretching abilities together. She guessed it was because he never met another stretchy person before. They did such acts like seeing who could stretch the furthest, five foot high five, and hand stands. She was originally annoyed by his constant insistence, but she was starting to have a bit of fun. Not to mention, Desco seemed entertained by it, so she was cool with it.

Meeting his challenge, the two twisted their two arms together into a small pillar of differing skin tones.

“Candy Cane.” She said, as she moved her arm to move the small horrific amalgamation of flesh into a hook. She shapeshifted her arm’s skin into a red hue, making her half of the mutant candy cane into a red spiral.

“Wow! It actually does look like a candy cane!” Luffy said, mouth watering. She quickly shifted her arm apart from his, fearful that he might actually be dumb enough to take a bite.

Desco watched the entire event, laughing, even giving a little applause when the candy cane was complete. Guu was glad the little demon child wasn’t afraid, though she wasn’t sure if she would have been afraid in the first place.

”Wow! You two are so good at that!” Desco said gleefully. ”I wish I could do that! I can only stretch Yogsothoth!”

Guu shot her a little awkward smile. Then she refocused on the task on hand.

”Anyways, we should set up camp, get some sleep.”
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Victor laughed at the message from the host of this survival event. " This Karl guy knows what he is doing, what a nice idea" Victor thought. "What do you mean" his inner voice responded, " Well as he stated no one has died yet, but there clearly has been conflict, this fighting without death creates drama, and tension. What he needs now is a pay off, a brutal death that will release all that tension otherwise the audience will feel they are being teased." Victor smiled to himself wondering how someone so genius ended up as a entertainment executive. If he was leading an army just through sheer entertainment there moral would be sky high or, he could be the media minister for an empire keeping his people in control through propaganda rather than police or army, What a waste of potential.

" What does all of that have to do with rewarding us for our hard work?" The voice inquired. " Its not for our hard work, its to lure as many combatants to a small area in as little time as possible. Plenty of time until the drop of means that even people who are a significant distance away can get there, For people who do not have good supplies it may be something useful, and for those that already do its a good chance to kill those that come looking for a better weapon. This is designed to create a very large amount of violence and death to give the viewers that pay off they desire." Victor thought. " So why don't we go and pick off the stragglers?" The voice responded. " Because that is exactly what Karl Jak wants us to do, The only people that will go there will be those desperate for a new weapon or supplies, and the real danger, those that are so strong that they do not feel like anyone else will pose them a threat, I don't want to turn up at an area with two or three fresh and confidant opponents with great equipment, we will wait our turn and stick to the path we have set." Victor thought " after all, its been good for us so far, don't worry my inner self, I will find us something fun to do soon."
[Image: LMLzBQ4.gif][Image: psgGbSy.png]                                                                                                                                [Image: 2lvxt0w.gif]

I left the building and saw another one. A third building. Just to the right of the two that I was in. I then noted that I hadn't eaten since yesterday. "...Yeah, I probably need to eat." I said, heading back inside the house. I looked inside the bag to find some basic food; some bread, fresh-baked this morning. There was also a 20oz bottle of Pepsi - which made sense, given Pepsi sponsored Dante's Abyss. "A little basic compared to what I saw inside the pre-show area, but it'll do." I said. I performed a karate chop through the bread - which was as soft as I hoped - and got a slice. I then proceeded to eat the slice of bread. "Could use some jam, but still pretty good." I said.

After my snack, I put the bread and the bottle of soda back into the duffel bag, and took off, towards the third house. I swear, this next thing HAS to have something of interest inside...Or maybe I can use it as a battle environment later. I thought to myself. "Wait...Why am I just walking?" I then said. "I could get there at super speed." I then super-speed ran towards the house, getting there in nearly half the time it would take normal walking. I splat into the wall at super speed. I stepped back a few steps, a bit dizzy. "Ow..." I said. I saw winged Karl Jak heads flying around my head. I then snapped out of it, walked around to the front door, and entered. Inside the living room, it was more nothing. A couch, a coffee table, and a small desk, no computer. There was, however, a piece of paper. "Why do they have paper and no pencils?" I asked no one in particular. Nonetheless, I walked over and entered the kitchen. Here, I looked inside a cupboard, and found something useful; more food. I had a feeling the bread wouldn't last the entire competition, but it appears I figured out a solution, specifically a box of crackers. They were chicken flavored, judging by the box. "Some more food. Might be useful for later." I stashed the crackers inside my duffel bag. "If I had one, I would make a cracker pun. Oh well." I said. I then went upstairs and looked in the bedroom; nothing of interest in there. "Wow, what is with Karl and making all these rooms mostly for an arena of sorts?" I asked no one in particular. "Just about as much of an arena as they are a tourist trap."
I then left the house, walking down the stairs calmly. I then heard Karl Jak announce a sort of care package at the school. "Alright, that MAY be important." I said to myself. I shrugged. I could see the school from my location. I crouched behind a bush, having a feeling someone else would be coming for it. "I'm going to have to make a strategic ambush." I said to myself. I then reached into my duffel bag and pulled out my weapon - apparently a Glaive - along with a cracker. I shoved the cracker in my mouth.
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The sleeping Gildarts let the rushing flow of water fill his ears, albeit interrupted, by his rival's voice.

"Package?" The wizard didn't know how to play the game, but decided that the idea of embarking to one place with the other battle-hungry contestants was not a good call, and frankly, it wasn't his style. He had to hope Erza would know enough to do the same and stay away from the potential bloodbath until they could find each other. But maybe, this announcement was an opportunity. Not just to find her, but to win.

"Oi, Karl. If you can hear me, bet that I am coming for you." Gildarts spoke somewhat of a challenge, man to man, yet not necessarily insulting to the Master of the Abyss. The Prime only subtly dared the maker's style. Touching the Prime's voice was a strained form of respect, as he looked to the glimmering heavens and his features narrowed with determination. Gildarts lived to take on the strongest warriors and from what he had heard about this Karl guy, he was more than able to hold his own. Not to mention, in this mage's eyes, he had it coming to him.

Danger had become interwoven in the immortal's bones, yet his tension eased as he felt the nature around him and moved from his camp under the boughs of a tall pine. The bushy needles had itched at his skin and prickled his cloak, but it has actually proved to be quite a comfortable position to be propped up in.

Soon enough, Gildarts would go fishing in the stream of water he had seen nearby; he was convinced it would be filled with flickering fishtails if he waited for the sunrise, but first and foremost, he needed to ready his pole.
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"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus

The trip from the barracks to the island had been a long one. Despite his many flights aboard Cid's airships, the gunslinger had never been a fan of travel by air. He was even less enthused at the thought of flying in what essentially amounted to a metal box with a propeller. As he had sat blindfolded aboard the chopper, the craft bobbing and weaving through the air, Vincent had felt an unfamiliar mix of anxiety and nausea creeping in.

This same gastrointestinal distress still gripped the Prime as he trekked through the black of night on the fateful island. He was not used to his internal organs really having much to say, with Hojo's work effectively rendering them dormant. Vincent could only assume that this was part of the contest in some way, thinking back to what he had read in the library. Perhaps the 'equalizing force' had activated his somatic cells, restarting the once useless organs; the futuristic collar bound to his neck was the most likely culprit, he mused. Anxiety still prickled up his spine, his hands a bit twitchier than he'd like. Though this owed somewhat to the intrusion of his parasympathetic nervous system, he could not help but feel that this inhibitor was having other effects on his body.

Presently the Prime paused his perusal of the island, his first rest in over an hour of walking. He opened his duffel bag, hoping that Syntex had not sabotaged his bag whilst he had been blinded. The ex-Turk moved the various items around, digging for the compass and map. In his search, however, he noticed an item he had not noticed in the barracks. Vincent took a moment to examine it, unsure at first if he knew what it even was. He spied another piece of the item on the bottom of the bag, the idea now clicking in his head. Though somewhat barbaric, he was glad that this item could at least be of some use.

Finishing his item hunt, he took a seat in the grass. The pale Prime unbuckled his cloak and set it aside, laying out his items on the tattered cloth. Though he had use of his new-found stealth abilities and was no longer fearful of its red hue giving him away, he doubted highly that the cloak would be of much use in the close-quarters combat that this contest no doubt would entail. He had likewise since abandoned his mantle shortly after touching down, with the collar making its use somewhat uncomfortable and borderline useless. Now adorn simply in the black cloth-and-leather bodysuit and his signature red bandanna, he got to work tidying his tools. He gently folded the water MREs and other items into the cloth, giving it at least the illusion of protection from damage if he were to get into a scuffle. The compass and map he kept for himself, depositing the rest back into the bag. The Syntex officials had been kind enough, it seemed, to at least mark on the map where he had been thrown out. Judging by the direction he was facing, he mentally marked the path he had walked on the map.

Valentine heaved the duffel over his shoulder and took in a quick view of his surroundings. He knew that the island itself was around 50 square miles, over which himself and the 45 other contestants were spread. The Prime doubted highly that Karl Jak would allow an even distribution over the land mass and that he should suspect enemies nearby. On examination of the map, Vincent saw that there were landmarks spread out, about 10 in all that were notable. Landmarks equaled trouble in his eyes, as this would be where entrants would naturally gravitate, as they offered supplies or a place to defend. The Prime made a mental note to avoid them if possible. The 1x1 block on the map where he had been supposedly been left didn't look like the best place to hunker down, though the gunslinger didn't much like the idea of moving all over the map. His strategy in this contest would be to simply stay alive, not pursuing combat unless he needed to. If the other contestants saw fit to murder each other as fast as possible, this only meant less blood on the ex-Turk's hands; the best of all possible scenarios. Still, he could not simply stand around and wait to be jumped.

The gunslinger sighed, staring into the darkened night. The moon hung overhead, affording a bit of illumination but not enough to be truly useful for scouting. The pitch black night would be a valuable ally for the prime, being as his accouterments blended well with the inky backdrop. Stealth too would further his chances of avoiding trouble, though in an open field it really wouldn't matter how stealthy he was. He would need to find something to hide himself if he hoped to be overlooked. In the distance he though he could make out some kind of road, perhaps, though it could just as well be a cliff in the darkness. The Prime's pondering was put to an end for a moment as an explosion in the distance jarred him back to reality.

“I had better get moving,” the gunslinger muttered, turning his back to the noise. He would shy away from explosions, he concluded.
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Dante's Abyss '15
Vincent Valentine

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Dante's Abyss '16
Grand Champion
Nanaki/Red XIII

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(07-16-2018, 06:14 PM)Lord Zedd Wrote: I'm here to kick ass and write compelling stories with Vincent Valentine.

And baby, we're all out of Vincent Valentine.

Neal could practically feel dawn approaching as he patched himself up. Thanking his good senses, the bag he so intelligently collected before his strategic retreat held a bounty of food and water, but no bandages. It ached him to do so, but Neal resorted to using the only other items he had been allowed: the very clothes on his back.

He hung his long coat upon a branch in the tree he had taken refuge in, and stripped his shirt. Literally. He started with the sleeves, ripping the cloth into long, thin strands and patches. After reducing the sleeves of his black button up to nonexistence, he takes a few, deep breaths. Calming his nerves, he pulls the first nail from his right forearm, hissing even with the gentlest of touches. FFFUCK! He mentally screamed vulgarities so that his voice would not alert any nearby Prime of his presence.

He placed a folded patch over the hole in his flesh, then wrapped a scrap of cloth around it. Neal repeated this process thrice more to have his arms free of the projectiles. I was lucky, he reminded himself. Just my limbs... No headshots, no punctured organs. All in all, they were very minor.

His legs were not as bad, the Wartortle had clipped his left calf twice during the escape, but that was it. His right, dominant, leg was unharmed. That meant if nothing else he could still jump, even though throwing a punch was not going to be a pleasant experience. "That damn turtle's going down. I'm NOT going to lose to a MIDDLE Evolution. I'm at LEAST an Alakazam! If NOT a Mew-fucking-two!" He reassured himself.

Neal stares off towards the diner in the distance. Go back and lose, or run and try to survive for another day? The question came with the need for strategy for both answers. Especially if he wanted the wishful third option. Stomp that koopa-bitch...But how? Strategy time.

Wartortle has the firepower advantage, but he doesn't have penetration through wood... He's water type... Maybe I could rip some wires out of the wall... No, I need to get that nailgun first. Neal mentally went over the resources he had on hand. Water, food, compass, map and... UNO cards. I swear, if I win, I'm going to start nailing those bastards to everyone.

ANYWAY, back on topic... Plan A: Neal closes his eye, remembering the diner as best as he could, in every detail. Take up a table as a shield and rush him like a battering ram... One of the small round tables should let me still jump and dodge. Unless the Danteverse removed his newfound acrobatic ability, which would piss him off even more. I can't rely on any spectacular TK, his fingers touched the collar around his neck. I'll just try to pull the gun from the turtle's hand, or knock it away. Screw up his aim to get in close...

Plan B: Berserk. Plenty of tables and chairs to throw. Aim for the head, maybe it'll retreat into its shell... then, I just take the gun it dropped, shoot it in the head and nail a card to it's shell. Joker style. Both plans seemed decently solid. Plan B sounded just as formidable, if not more likely, than plan A.

First, though, Neal had to make sure his Telekinesis even still worked. At first, he held up a finger-gun and dropped his thumb. Nothing, no Mind Bullet, no 'thoom!' nothing. Advanced telekinesis was out, as he expected. So instead, he reaches out with the same hand and clinched his fist. Pulling it back, he focused on exerting his force onto a branch, which pulled back in time with his hand. Very basic. It's no wander my Gambit gambit didn't work out too well.

There was just one more thing he needed to get out of the way. More accurately, two questions. Can I truly kill someone? .... They should respawn, just like I would. It won't be permanent. They signed up for this, just as I did. It's just a game... it's all a game. He repeated his mantra to himself. It set in fast, renewing his confidence. "And... what if I fail? I doubt I can escape so lucky this time." That one was more serious.

Am I willing to risk losing the game just to get even? What are the risks? The rewards? That one took a moment to fully calculate. Risks: I lose and die. I'd respawn anyway. Or I manage to escape or even win, in worse shape... making the rest of the competition even harder... No for Rewards: A better weapon for future fights. A base with possible supplies and better defensive opportunities than a tree...

What if I leave? I have a high chance of finding another competitor, in a strange environment, with an unknown weapon... or a better location that is uninhabited. Neal shook his head, sighing. No, any marked location on the map is ripe picking. I have the advantage of intelligence here.

It was settled. Neal dropped from the tree, landing with his weight primarily on his good leg. Deep breaths kept his mind clear as he walked towards the diner's back, ready to try again. Maybe I'll just throw the water-type into a light. Game over right there. Neal grinned at the thought of frying the Wartortle. Then nail a blue Skip card to his head.

The dawn was coming and Jak continued to take it to the ground and search for basic supplies scattered. The little scatter of sunlight allowed him to see a stick and it gave him a little time to shave down the stick into some sort of spear for hunting sake. He and Dax had hunted food during the slow times in the wastelands and even in Sandover.

Maybe he was good with animals, but survival was much more important at the time. He bent over and stabbed a small bird that landed. As the bird died, Jak looked at it and picked up a few other sticks and started to pull off feathers off a bird until it was cleaned off.

He started to eat the raw bird and felt his belly that was semi-full and he covered his tracks by rubbing the dirt where his tracks were.

He nodded, but he looked sad.He'd deal with the loss of a bird later. He had to go meet his allies before someone else would find him. It had already been how many hours in this competition and the day had been longer than he once thought. He would keep his eyes open for any possible strangers as he decided to go a different path then he planned before.
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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' 

Jon kept a steady, one handed grip on his weapon as he circled and loped around the mountains side. From a distance the mountain was quite clearly large, and up close the damned thing was even bigger. It was taking Snow a good five or ten minutes to walk around the entire mountain, and Jon wasn't entirely sure whether his journey was coming to more of a close or reaching an open beginning. The mountain was barely climbable from the heaps of rubble and sloping stoneways that stretched down from it, though Jon wasn't intent on reaching the top, or even to make his way up there at all for that matter. Stowing away at the mountains peak and going blind to the contest would do him few favours in the long run, he knew. He needed to explore and venture out more than anything right now, as dangerous and risky as his tactics seemed. Jon needed to know the grounds he treaded a lot better before more solid proof plans and tactics could be formed, and Snow couldn't forget that he was still alone and by himself out here. That was dangerous in itself. Finding Sasuke or even reconciling with Crona were much higher up on his own agenda, right now.

But the bastard had decided that he'd walked enough for one travelling; he concluded it'd be best to rest his legs a bit before carrying onward. He still had yet to see what was inside this big black duffel bag they'd told him to bring with him, as well...

He seated himself down upon one of the uneven slopes connecting with the mountains side, slugging the sack from his shoulders as he rested it upon his lap, being sure to fold his weapon back up and clip it at his belt just for safe-measures. Pinching the zipper between a finger and a thumb, he slid it open, the metals creating a ziiiip sound as they grinder against one another. Peering inside, he began to pull out what was stored within one by one.

Four meals-ready-to-eat, four bottles of water, a compass, a scrolled-up sheet of paper...

Jon was beginning to understand why the bag had been so heavy, now.

Jon spun and unloosened the cap from one of the bottles, bringing the see-through flask toward his lips as he took a minuscule sip. He only had a slight thirst to be quenched after all, and Jon knew saving a lot of this for later would be smart. Stowing the water bottles back away along with the MRE pouches, Jon only now held the compass and the scrolled sheet in his hands, glancing between the either of them curiously.

Pushing his unzipped back carefully to one side, Jon rose up for the slope, raising the compass up a bit higher as he took some steps in his planned course of travel. The red arrow in the centre springed to life, spinning itself until it pointed firmly toward the cardinal direction Snow was facing. Jon had been heading North, it appeared.

Finished with the compass, Jon reached down to shove it back into the duffel bag, reaching for the scrolled up sheet next. Gripping lightly at both ends of the paper, he slowly began to unravel it, holding it up straight in front of him. He held it tightly and firmly, not wanting the quiet and mellowing winds to blow the sheet away, or overly crease it.

Jon's brow slowly raised in surprise as he finished unfolding the paper. A map?! This'll be useful..

Spinning on his heel, Jon twisted around and moved back over to the slope where he'd been resting. Kneeling down before it, he spread the map out carefully across the stone working, hazel-orbs flashing over the diagrams as to pick out and pinpoint his current location. One finding it, he marked his positioning with a gloved finger. Mount Blair...

Jon stared down at the map as he figured on where to go next. And there were no shortage of options for him, either. A windmill was nestled not far away from the mountain, shrouded by rolling hills and fields. All he'd need to do is follow the lake until he reached it, so seeking it down would be no problem. Jon tapped his chin in thought, his gaze turning to an alternate location that was also not far out of reach. Dante Town.

Jon didn't doubt the place would be full of other combatants and contenders, but he also knew that with high risk sometimes came high reward. Perhaps Sasuke, or others such as King Gilgamesh or Crona were residing there as he pondered on it? It seemed like a long shot, and if he was wrong Snow knew he could very well be walking himself into his demise, but no other plan of action seemed as logical and made as much sense as the one his brain had just unearthed. He nodded faintly in acknowledgement to himself, starting to roll the map back into a scroll-like form once more, only to be cut off by the sound of an all too familiar voice; someone he'd heard and listened too a few more times than he would have liked too.

Karl Jak.

The flamboyant, pompous host of the Abyss was bringing forward an announcement of sorts. That a package was to be dropped off by the school, and it was supposed to bring some aid or relief.

But only one person would get that package, Jon knew, and he felt a tinge of anger at that fact, baring his teeth in response to Karl's echoing words.

Who the fuck did this man think he was?

Announcing it like that, it could only end in one result and one only; bloodshed, and so many lives wasted. And for what? To appease and entertain the so called "fans" who were probably all huddled around in the comforts of their homes watching each and every one of them go through hell and back.

Jon figured he finally got it, now. The Abyss... this place was Karl's domain, and belonged to none-other. He desired control and power, and THIS was his control and power. Forcing Primes into these fighting pits just with the stroke of a pen. He was no better than Omni in such a regard.

Jon sighed and shook his head. Justice would come for Jak soon enough, whether it would be him to deliver it upon him or someone else.

Someone will.

Jon proceeded to finish rolling his map back up into a smaller, thinner scroll, placing it back inside the black duffel bag. Zipping the sack shut, he heaved it back over his shoulders once more, making off for the path he had set ahead for himself. The road was still long, after all, and he still faced many, many terrors and nightmares with yet to come.
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Once Samus was certain that she could be seen only by the creeping light of the moon, she began to carefully search through the bag she had been provided. She regarded the map and compass. I guess this is to stop me running into those danger zones. In the near pitch blackness she could just about make out the lines and numbers. The bottles of water and MREs were standard and expected. Samus found herself looking through the meals she had lined up for the next few days and sighed at the selection. Beef brisket. Chili with beans. Chicken loaf. She supposed Syntex was right to expect that killers-for-glory wouldn’t be picky about eating meat. Not that it particularly mattered. By the end of the week she’d be hunting game to make do. That is if she even survived that long.

Finally Samus drew her weapon from the bag. She half-wanted to hold a grudge against it for hitting her in the back on the way down, but she couldn’t. It was in this competition too, stuck with her until the bitter end. Even swords had to feel degraded. Appearing in Dante’s Abyss had to be a humiliation for anything of such quality masterwork. Samus was no sword lover but even she could appreciate the fine filigree of the scabbard. This was no ordinary sword. But where had she seen it before?

Slowly, so as not to make a lot of noise, she took her left hand and drew the sword from its sheath. In the moonlight its blade seemed almost to glow. Was this more than a mere blade? It felt like it. Even as she formulated the thought, Samus felt the voice of her inner sceptic chastise her. Magic was one thing, but mysticism was another.

But even Samus could be sentimental sometimes. She needed to believe something now. So she brought the sword close to her face and whispered to it:

“I trust you with my life.”

And it was the strangest feeling. Because, as silly as she felt alone in that forest, talking to a sword, Samus somehow felt that … she could. Like there was some source of goodness in the blade, reassuring her. It felt strong in her hand. Right.

And surprisingly light. Samus raised it up and took a few swings. She could almost feel the air rushing to make way for it before she’d even begun her swing. She sliced the tip off of a nearby leaf. Then another slice. Then another, until all that was left was the twig.

As she tested the blade, her anxiety began to recede and the sickness in her stomach settle. All was not lost. There was still hope and goodness in the world. She just had to find it.

With some difficulty, Samus looped the strap of the scabbard around her back and hefted her bag back across it. She replaced the sword and the echo of its voice sang in her ears.

Samus stepped out of the trees and smelled the air. Seven days. Her eyes shone in the darkness, and then disappeared.
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Kshh! Krrrrr! "HAAAAaa.....huh..."[i] Glass littered the floor from Neal's reentry, and the small squared table held firmly in his hands tilted towards the ground. The diner was devoid of life, with the back door standing wide. [i]"Did that noob rage-quit?!" His plan was fullproof! Both of his plans, actually. "Damn... Whatever, I still have the high ground... Time to rummage.

He started off towards the kitchen, for obvious reasons. MRE's are not what what he would call a "home cooked meal." Sure enough, he found some goodies that, for others, might seem undesirable. Canned vegetables, mainly. [i]"Oooh, mushrooms... Whole too, score."
The fungi was perhaps his favored canned snack from back home. The memory brought a smirk to his lips, his parents always cringing as he slurped up one of the slimey bulbs.

"What else do we have... Ooh -- no... opened and spoiled. He tossed a can of processed meat over his shoulder before kneeling to look over the bottom shelves. The pickings were pretty slim. The can of mushrooms would be his biggest reward, but he did find a jar of sliced pickles, unopened. He left a bottle of ketchup, however. On second thought, he left the pickles too.

Instead, he takes the can over to the preparation table, where he easily found a rusted can opener. The axle had long since seized, so he had to open and close the tool to puncture the mushroom can multiple times along it's rim, connecting the holes one by one. Sadly, this skill had been honed to perfection as a naive kid.

The final cut left the can lid to fall into the can, which he used to drain the juice off of his bounty. Finally plucking out the lid and dropping it onto the counter, he turns up the can to casually dump two mushroom caps into an awaiting maw.

My stuff is still in the tree... Can't forget to grab that later. He made a mental note, but for now he chose to relax. He listened to the silence of the night and took to enjoying his little snack. His mind wandered for a short while, considering all the things he could do here. Of course, all of that reminded him of the futility of it all.

His eyes cast over the over the room. He hoped to find a knife - at first. The hope dwindled, replaced by an inkling in the back of his mind. No. A knife won't do any good... He sighed through his nose, his jaw falling still for the moment, midways through a mushroom. Normal items won't effect Primes... that's why they gave us all these random items... His free hand reaches down to touch the pack of cards in his pocket.

Click! Holy shit... His eyes widened, his breathing halted. I am a god damned genius. He turned the can up for a mouthful of the soft, squishy delights before sitting his bounty on the counter and rummaging through the various drawers and shelves.

Not there...

Bingo! Branching off from the kitchen was a janitor's closet. Very few people ever thought of the janitor's closet as being a treasure trove, but today it was just what Neal needed. The stock wasn't too bad, for his needs. "Come to papa! I need you! And you! Ohhh, aren't you a beauty!" His hushed yet excitable muttering announced every item he plucked from the shelf. A bucket, a crusty brush, a cardboard box and a spool of string, all apparently useless items. " Perfect..."

He placed his bounty upon the counter next to his mushrooms before nigh prancing towards the stove. "Zoink!" He chimed whilst he opened the old contraption and yanked out the gridiron. "Let's see who's getting the last laugh! HAH!" The light clang of the metal on the countertop caused Neal to wince slightly. He had to remember to be quieter.

Only one more thing was needed. Neal dashed back into the dining area, hesitating only for a moment to make sure it was still clear... He snatched up the table he had previously dropped, before returning with it to the kitchen. After giving it a good look over, his lips curled to a smirk. There was still a knife on the counter, left behind as useless junk. He was positive normal weapons would not harm a Prime.

He took the knife in hand and carefully went about separating the top layer of the table from the compressed wood. The laminate was all he needed, just that added layer. Thankfully, once he cut the seems, it came off rather easily, with a soft yet raspy ripping sound. The rest of the table was sat back down, unneeded for the moment.

Neal started with the laminate layer. The same knife that had freed it now works to cut the square article into long, slightly broad strips. It was hard to keep the strips as even and straight as possible, but the end product came out looking good enough.

He took up the crusted brush and attempted to free the bristles with the dull paring knife. It wasn't too hard to get it somewhat usable, though it was not going to paint any houses. Next, he popped open the bucket and peered insight. It was half full of industrial adhesive. "Have I told myself just how amazing I am?" He prided himself once again, before dipping the brush into the adhesive and spreading it over the rough underside of the laminate.

With the first strip covered in a light layer of glue, he quickly takes up the gridiron and begins weaving the laminate strip through the grill. This part was painstaking, especially considering he couldn't let the grill touch the glue too much, in fear of sticking or rubbing it off before it was in place. About half way through, his slow brain concocts another way to do this.

The second strip was woven into the second row between the intersecting columns of metal, this time without glue. It alternated from the first strip, so that it was above the bar when the strip beside it was below, and visa versa. This time, it went through much easier, and the brush coated in clue gave it a quick coat. All he had to do was pull the laminate slightly so that the glue was now under the bar. Boom! Just like that! He repeated this twice more to finish the base layer.

With the laminate in place, rough side up, he leans down to take up the old cardboard box. Being careful to unfold it, the old glue on the box gaveway easy enough. For the most part, Neal did not have to resort to tearing, though there were one or two blemishes. It'll work all the same. With the box unfolded, Neal painted the laminate-woven gridiron with a layer of glue, then slapped on the cardboard, the rivets going in the opposite direction from the long iron bars below it.

After spreading his hands across it to make sure it was evenly pasted down, he took the old knife and cut away at the edges, keeping his creation nice and even. "And finally, the cherry on top!" He practically cackled in delight. He remembered standing over an enchanting table in Skyrim, making the exact sound. He slid from his pocket the pack of cards. Though one was missing, he believed he had plenty to complete his goal.

One by one, card by card, he glued down the joke artifact. They overlapped and alternated, like scales on a dragon hide. All of them were faced down, so UNO repeated across the surface of his creation. In his head, his logic was undeniable. The Spartan Shield was made with wood, leather and iron to absorb and resist impact better than any single-material shield. Samurai armor was scaled so attacks could glance off its surface. So... this should be awesome, DESPITE it being made of freaking UNO CARDS.

"Ya, I'm just that awesome."

Since it was nighttime and none of the three could tell how late it acutally was, it was time to set up camp! Desco nodded, and one of Yogsothoth's tentacles slipped into her duffel bag and tried to pull out one of her MREs but ended up grabbing the weapon that was placed on top. It was an odd little thing, a metal rod with buttons. "Ooohh, I wonder what this does?" "That looks wierd." Luffy watched too, as Desco pushed one of the buttons. With a zzzzrsssh, a blast of red energy came surging out of the side the button was on. In surprise Desco dropped the weapon, the energy sword burning through the grass that it landed on.

Luffy grew wide eyed. "That is soooo cooool! Its a sword made out of lasers!" One of Yogsothoth's tentacles got a grip on the lightsaber and brought it back up to Desco. "Yea, it is cool~!" "That looks like it could be fun." Desco looked closely at the rod, and pushed the other buttons. The second botton on the opposite side made 'that' side also spit out a laser sword. "Ha ha, two of them!" And the last one in the middle released the connector that kept the weapon together, one falling to the ground again laser first and burning through the ground until it rested horizontally. Yogsothoth picked up the fallen lightsaber again while Desco waved around the other making waaaa sounds as it passed through the air.

"Can I use one?!" "Uhhh.." Desco thought about it. These were 'her' lightsabers, not Luffy's. But they were friends now and it was nice to share, but still she felt resistance to actually hand one off. Desco closed her eyes for a moment, and made her decision that was felt good to share stuff. "Okay, but Desco is only lending it to you! So don't break it!" Yogsothoth's tentacle extended out to Luffy and handed him the sword, who immediately started to wave it around in awe of it. As Desco did the same thing, Guu looked around and started to gather up some sticks and rocks, her arms stretching out as she stood still and searching along the ground until they found something and bringing it back.

"Hey Desco, light this with your laser sword." Desco looked over and saw that Guu, the smart and mature one of the group, had formed up a pile for the campfire and rocks to control the fire and keep it from spreading. Desco looked and then floated over and stuck the end of the lightsaber in, but the light saber just burned away what it touched without starting a fire. Desco hit the button and retracted her light saber and pulled out an MRE with one of her tentacles like she tried earlier. "There are matches in these." Desco popped open the brown plastic and pulled out the various packed contents until she got to a clear plastic bag with little wipes, drink mix, some salt/pepper and tabasco, a spoon, and a match book with a row of matches. She pulled that out and struck one of the matches, making a little light that stood out in the darkness. She brought it down to the pile and lit the dry grass on it soon making a crackling fire.

Guu looked at Desco and the pulled out MRE contents, she seemed to know what these actually were. Since Desco felt hungry she pulled out a bottle of water and poured it into the heater bag up to the line then sealed it up. "What is that?" Desco looked back at Guu, feeling a little confused that she didn't know what these were. "Uh, this is the heater! Desco has eaten MREs when she was little in the Lab with daddy." Luffy came over, his light saber still on. "Hey what are you two doing?" Desco opened up one of the cardboard boxes that contained a plastic bag inside and put the heater in next to it. "Desco is cooking food!" Luffy saw the MRE bag opened and the contents Desco had taken out. "So that is what's in there. I'm hungry too, so lets eat!"

Luffy pulled out his own MRE and popped it open with force, spilling everything around him. Once he had it organized he looked a little confused at the contents. Desco's tentacle stretched out to point things out to him, happy that she could help. "This is the heater! You pour water into it up to the line and put it into one of these boxes and put what you want to cook next to the heater. These bigger ones are supposed to be heated." Luffy broke open one of the others in half, tearing through the crackers inside in half. "Why do they put these in hard to open bags?" Desco pointed to the corner of a different one. "You are supposed to tear them open here!" While Luffy heated his Beef Stew he chowed down on the other things in little plastic bags. Desco put away most of her MRE back in the bag it came in and just ate the Entree and Side, Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes. "This stuff is okay but Sanji's food is better." "I didn't like it." Guu commented as she had already eaten some of her food.

Luffy started to open another MRE to eat. "Wait! Shouldn't you save that for tomorrow?" "But I'm still hungry." He started to pull out what was inside. "But we could be here a whole week and we just got here!" "Alriiight.." Luffy put the MRE back, disappointed. Desco yawned as she was tired, she'd been awake all day and it was way past when she should have slept. Yogsothoth moved and stretched out his tentacles and moving down to the ground making a sort of table shape. Desco got up on top of him. "Maybe we should get some sleep?" Guu looked out to the darkness around them. "Okay but we shouldn't be asleep all at the same time." "I'll take first watch!" Luffy spoke, as his hand was exploring the contents of his MRE in his duffel. Desco stretched her arms and laid down on Yog, one of his tentacles stretching out to make a pillow for her.

Guu stepped over to Desco's makeshift bed and stretched her legs up to get up level to Desco. She stared at Yogsothoth for a little while, and poked him lightly. "Can I join you?" Desco looked over to Guu and blushed a little, embarrased. What Guu asked was to lay down on top of Yogsothoth, and Yogsothoth was Desco, so she could feel everything that Yogsothoth touched. "Uh, okay!" Guu got on, unstretching her legs and squirming up next to Desco, also using Yog's tentacle as a pillow. "Good night Desco." "Good night Guu!" Another of Yog's tentacles got up and stretched over the two as a blanket, and they fell into sleep while Luffy started pulling out the stuff in an MRE next to the campfire.

Tartaros trudged along the muddy shoreline, pieces of driftwood breaking under his tread. The shore still seemed to go onwards for some few miles, almost nothing but mud, sand and cliff faces... even stranger, after walking for what must have been several hours, there was still no sign of any other contestants... Perhaps this island was larger than the marine had considered...

The ride towards the island had been uneventful, Tartaros was simply called from his room in the barracks, still with no sign of any of his apparent allies and was guided towards a small pad, and after being affixed with some sort of collar to "limit his power", was simply given a bag, then was dumped by helicopter onto the island with a single phrase, "Find eachother, kill eachother."

After marching further along the muddy and sandy path for what seemed like hours, the Luna Wolf looked up at the sky, "Almost sundown... still haven't eaten...", the marine thought. He'd have to check his bag for food before hunting, perhaps this host was still more merciful than the Pit-Lord of Marnus II... and with that, the marine clumsily unhooked the bag from his belt, and opened it.

Such supplies seemed rather meager for an astartes, however Tartaros knew how to survive on less... Inside was around three days worth of MREs, clearly this "Karl" fellow intended for the contestants to hunt on their own... three modestly sized bottles of water, a map and compass... always useful tools, and finally... a sock. Seems the tournament staff have a sick sense of humor... "No matter, there are always... simpler weapons available to use." the marine thought to himself, eyeing a nearby plank of driftwood and placing it in his backpack.

After removing his helm and scarfing down one of his MREs, apparently some sort of minced meat with some unidentifiable quote-on-quote "potatoes", then gulping half of one of his three bottles of water, the marine set off inland, to the south, hoping to find his allies there... until he heard a voice that seemed to reverberate around the entire island... a loud, arrogant voice...

Quote:"How we all doing down there? You are all doing just wonderful, and while no one has yet to die, the bloodshed so far has been positively fabulous. In fact, people are so impressed that I'm going to reward you all by dropping a little package for whoever wants to live a little. The chopper will drop it off at 0600 hours near the school. Toodles.""[/b[

[b]"Wonderful.", the marine spoke to himself, "a distraction for the big lads.", after pulling out the map to determine the schools location, it seemed to be close the Tartaros' location, the northern shore... The marine picked up his pace, swiftly marching along the now shadowy-looking ground. "I must be out of this area by nightfall..."

Well, that was fun. I got my first little taste of what Alex has in store for me, and it wasn’t all that bad. Even got to have a cross-genre fight—a Marvel character using a Street Fighter move against a Dragonball Z character!

The mercenary’s encounter with the green man—Namekian, he’s a Namekian—rewarded him with stinging gashes all over his visage, which only intensified as the face of a midnight breeze spilled over the distant mountain range and rolled into the plains he made camp in.

Over in the shrubbery between a pair of outlying trees, all that remained of Deadpool’s scuffle with the green man was a splatter of purple blood across a few vines and leaves. But no body, and without a body, the mercenary knew the green man lurked somewhere close by.

In the distance, the roof of a building peaked over a shallow hill. It was too far out of sight to determine what its purpose was on the island (Deadpool presumed just about everything on the island was merely for role-playing fodder), but it was there, and if the green man had any form of intelligence, he would have headed in that direction.

I know what the building is over the hill, but for the sake of not getting jumped by a Guu-sized group, I’m gonna keep that information to meself. I’m not Deadpony (hi Deadpony!!!!). I’m not just gonna blabber out your location. We’re in this together, Baron.


No, don’t progress the story yet! Ya’know, it wouldn’t hurt you to talk back sometimes. Alex did it in the face-2-face, so why can’t you ever talk to me sometimes?

Okay, fuck you too then. I should just go ahead and reveal our weapon! IT’S _________________ . . .

I’m not that stupid.

And if Deadpool were healthy, he would have followed; his encounter with the green man took its toll on him, and while his mercenary instincts told him to pursue, his body wrestled with the notion, eventually pinning it to the canvas. The collar (courtesy of Karl Jak—that guy) he received in the barracks worked wonders against his episodes of vertigo, but did little to diminish his swelling sense of fatigue, which had been patiently subduing him since his arrival to the Plush Inn.

The fact was, Deadpool’s cancer had reactivated. He tried to deny it as long as he could, but he knew it to be true. His growing feeling of fatigue emerged after he used his Healing Factor to recover the lacerated throat he received from Gingy’s attack in the Moors. Since then, his body had slowly forsaken him, and he knew it would only progress further.

Start fresh tomorrow, Deadpool concluded, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. If he chose to travel now he would only make it a couple of football fields before falling facedown, in a ditch somewhere; camping out the rest of the night and catching up on a pile of z’s was his best option. He would head out tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, around 0600 hours.

0600 hours . . . why did it sound familiar?

Then he remembered the host, Karl Jak, proclaiming an ominous event—an item drop near the school, at 0600 hours (which was odd, since Karl did not seem like the type to have a military background)—and instantly shoved a hand into the bag sitting next to him, pulling out his map of the island. Good, nowhere near me.Deadpool only gave the map a cursory glanced before rolling it up and stuffing it back into his bag. He breathed deep and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. In his current condition, the last thing he needed was an orgy of Primes right next door.

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

PVP Combat Record
3W - 0L - 0D
4W - 1L - 0D
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I found no one even TRYING to go for the item. "What, did everyone find out the package sucked or something?" I asked no one in particular. I decided to head down into Dante's Town, turning south and proceeding to walk. "Alright...I have a LOT to do..." I grabbed another little cracker and ate it. "I have a special weapon or whatever to pick up, I have some people to kill, and hopefully, I'll have to figure out what the heck an Artefact is so I understand my prize." While walking, I tripped. A few of my unopened MREs, a couple crackers, and my Glaive fell out. "Ah, nuts!" I picked up the weaponry and MREs and stuffed them back in, while leaving the crackers behind. "I'm getting hungry again." I said to myself. I had worked up an appetite; you'd be surprised how much of an appetite you get watching for someone you could kill. I then sighted the bird from before again, and quickly hid in a bush. "...Why waste all my MREs when I could just hunt?" I whispered. "I've witnessed multiple human deaths before, I mean, I'm a forensic scientist in my world...Hunting...? Not a problem." I then suddenly jumped out of the bush, at the bird. It flew away, and my Glaive was driven into the earth while I faceplanted into the ground. I got up. "...I really should have judged the physics better on that, to see if I could attack fast enough." I ran at the Glaive and started pulling it out of the ground, the long poleaxe being stuck. It would barely budge. "This is embarrassing..." I then took off without it, seemingly. I then suddenly charged at it, trying to knock it out of the ground with a charge...I ran past it, at super speed, into the wall of the house I was in a little bit ago. "...Am I gonna have to spend the rest of my day getting this dumb wood-cutting tool out of the ground?" I asked no one in particular, insulting the poleaxe as if it was an actual person. "I need to judge the physics better this time." I then walked over to it and started to use all of my strength to try to pull it out of the ground. Eventually, I pulled the Glaive out, and ended up tipping over, stopping the pull one second too late. I then got up, feeling halfway stupid, picked up my Glaive, and put it back in the duffel bag, heading off towards the town again.
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Face to Face
#40 Tartaros vs #38 Desco, #37 Luffy, and #23 Guu

Tartaros Castus hadn’t been long in ‘the Abyss’ when he made his way down through the little city and out the western edge. Although he had been robbed of his normal weaponry and provided only with a bag of feeble ration and a ‘weapon’ that would sully his reputation as an Adeptus Astartes if he even tried to use it in combat, he strode proudly toward a small campsite. Whoever they were, they clearly didn’t understand much about to survive.

The space marine trudged forward, knowing that he would need to deal with whatever creatures were huddled around the dead fire and acquire their weapons. A space marine without something that spat fire and death was just not acceptable by any means.

Marching into the camp, the armored war machine paused near the tents and saw the group’s sentry—some sort of tall, gangly armed human—had actually dozed off during his duties. Who had deemed these individuals fit to compete in this contest of skill and survival? Making his way toward a bag that had been left open, Tartaros bent down and tried to rifle through its contents. Unfortunately for the space marine, it is nearly impossible for an eight foot man in a power suit to sneak around.

A few feet away, Luffy snapped to attention at the sound of a armored boot thudding against the ground. The rubber pirate, although still somewhat groggy, quickly figured out what was going on. “Hey!” He shouted as he sprung up to confront the space marine.

“Lie down,” Tartaros growled as he extended an armored fist. The collar around his neck flashed briefly as his Tirgrus-Pattern Bolter appeared and began to spit rounds at Luffy. One of the explosive bolts caught the rubber man in the leg and caused him to yelp in agony.

Thinking he had the man on the ropes, Tartaros let off on the trigger and moved in to slay the strange, skinny human. His fist found Luffy’s gut, but before he could release a follow-up attack, a giant metal disk smashed into his face, denting his helmet and hitting with enough force to stagger him.

As Tartaros reeled from the impact of the giant Vibranium discus, he managed to catch Luffy fumbling with something in his pocket. A beat later, there was a whir of an energy weapon and the whole scene was cast in a red glow. The space marine tore away his helmet and turned to see the pirate was now wielding some sort of energy sword, and he was now being flanked by two diminutive creatures. One had another glowing weapon, and the other held a shield at her side.

“Freaks,” Tartaros growled as he lifted his bolter to mow them all down. Before he could find the trigger, Luffy moved forward and swung his sword at the space marine’s weapon. The energy blade cut through the bolter and clean through Tartaros’ right wrist, severing his armored hand. The garish scene was enough to make all the members of Ambrosia pause and glance down at the bloody gauntleted fist lying in front of them.

In that moment of hesitation, Tartaros stepped forward and kicked his own severed fist at the trio like a soccer ball. As they scrambled to get out of the way, the Adeptus Astartes fled into the night, knowing that this was never a fight he could win on his own.

They may have been freaks and they may have had no prior experience surviving in the wild.

But that hadn’t stopped them from making him look like a child.

Although he was never one to come unwound, Tartaros Castus found himself cursing each and every one of them beneath his breath. He’d be back… and the next time, he’d have real firepower at his disposal.

Tartaros has used his Level 0 Super Move (Bolter) -1 SP
Luffy has a wound on his leg... it's nothing too bad, +1 Damage
Tartaros has a severed right hand -- Insane Injury (+10 Damage)
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

I’ve died before.

Dying feels a hell of a lot like falling, the difference with death is you don’t stop falling.

The forest canopy did a wonderful job of breaking my rapid descent, catching me with thick branches and vines. Dull pain wracked my body as each branch crashed into me and gave way. After what must have been an eternity I hit solid ground, hard. A dry hollow snap rang out and a dull roaring pain exploded through my left arm.

“Fuck, fuck.... ohhh” I whimpered and looked over at my twisted limb, bent at an ungodly angle. Pain. Unbearable pulsing pain came crashing like waves from my busted arm. Every movement was agony. I ground my teeth to dust and bit my lip until blood oozed forth, but nothing stopped the symphony of pain. The burns on my body raged at my foolhardiness, how could I have been so careless?

How long did I lie there? Longer than I would like to admit, pain and fear mixed together into a paralyzing sense of vulnerability which pinned me in place. After all, Ganondorf had shrugged off my strongest attack as if it was nothing, how was I to defeat an island of gods? I felt like giving up, throwing in the towel and dying in that forest. But lying there broken and hopeless seemed all too familiar, I’ve been in this situation before. Battered and defeated, about to give up hope and perish beneath the weight of adversity. Yes, I’ve been here before. Buried beneath the rumble of my home and surrounded by the corpses of my family and friends. Yes, I’ve been here before.

Valerie once told me that diamonds are made when coal is put into a crucible under an obscene amount of heat and pressure. He had said “the strongest and most beautiful things came from strife and adversity.” So is this what the abyss was then? Just a crucible for me to be tested in?

Well then, I will not break.

This was nothing. This pain? This pain was galvanizing, this defeat stoked a fire. No, it stoked a raging inferno that would consume this whole damn island. I don’t need my goddamned arm to win. I don’t need anything but this fury and rage and hatred boiling in my chest. That red-haired bastard better be careful because I will find him and grind him into dust.

With new resolve I forced my body to move. Every muscles was sore and stiff and the burns stung like hell, but I pushed forward. My arm hung uselessly at my side as I climbed to my feet. It screamed at me in defiance. Every movement sent shards of pain climbing up my shoulder. With my good arm I ripped away my burned shirt and flung it over my shoulder. Using the scraps from my shirt I fashioned a makeshift sling for my mangled arm. The damn thing would be less of a hindrance tied to my shoulder this way. My athletic body was covered in scars and fresh burns; I figured I must have looked like a horror-show.

My damn duffel bag had been left on the side of the road and I had no supplies left except for my compass and that severed arm. The arm was the only thing I managed to hold onto when that dragon took me for a ride. As fate would have it I dropped it during my descent and the damn thing landed nearby. There was no way I could use it with one arm and in frustration I kicked the rotted limb away. No food, no water, and no weapon even with my new-found resolve I would have a hard time surviving.
Quote:"How we all doing down there? You are all doing just wonderful, and while no one has yet to die, the bloodshed so far has been positively fabulous. In fact, people are so impressed that I'm going to reward you all by dropping a little package for whoever wants to live a little. The chopper will drop it off at 0600 hours near the school. Toodles."

Karl Jak’s voice rang out across the island and I froze in my tracks to listen. A smile must have creeped across my face because that message filled me with joy. This was what I needed, something -- anything would be better than nothing. There was no choice in the matter I had to make a try for this care package. Hopefully the red-haired bastard would try for it as well and I would get some much needed payback. Either way I would pummel anyone who stood before me, I couldn't lose I had a promise to keep.

At this point I wanted to hurt someone, especially Ganondorf. I wasn’t mad or even angry at him.


I was fucking pissed off.
[Image: StrazSig.png]

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