Day 3

[Karl Jak]

Early Morning/Phase 1
(0000 – 0600)​

“We’ve entered our third day on this mission, Ladies and Gentle-Individuals. The unmaking is relentless, so I’d avoid the following squares:

“M6
M7
T2
T3
O8
Q2.”

His eyes scanning the list of options on his tablet, Karl leaned back over the microphone. “Be aware that anyone still in the safehouse at 3 AM will be forcibly translocated to another safe part of the island. I’ve got complaints about the electrical bill and the noise from some of the lodgers – it’s not me, I swear!

Glancing at the list, Karl nodded to himself. “There will be an item drop at O7 in six hours.”

“Five more items to go – I mostly believe in all of you to get the job done!”

***
​

The bunker/safehouse is located at square O4. Will it remain here moving forward? Who knows.

You’re all on the non-unmade part of the island, which is a blend of lowland plains (that middle part that’s a different shade of green), mountains (should be clear), and a more primordial forest (the outer edges of the land mass on the map). You’ll encounter a mixture of normal and mechanical wildlife, if you so desire, and the unmade zone’s influence will gradually seep across (so you might get hints of that but don’t go overboard).

This phase ends on 6-20 at 9 AM CST.

Heed Mr. Jak’s kind warning about being in the bunker (3 AM on the island equates to roughly 8 PM to 9 PM our time).

 

[Karl Jak]

Toga receives Quest Item 4 (uncontested)

 

[Dr. McNinja]

Dr. McNinja stumbled back towards the bunker after his brief walk. Curse Karl Jak and his “must keep moving” rule. He did his best to treat his many, MANY burns, but walking was still painful. But hey, makes sense. Would be a poor show if everyone just stood in place forever.

Jester had been following him around. Adorable girl, by the way, if not for what was clearly brain damage. That was the only way to explain why Jester would trust this strange man in a mask. Or, for some reason, think that a balaclava was equivalent to a superhero mask.

Still. Felt nice.

Doc always wanted to be a superhero.

Jester looked up at him, falling to her knees again. “Suuuuuper grouuuuup.”

“Yeap, I already agreed, Jester,” Doc grunted as he lifted her to her feet.

“You’re grumpy,” Jester said, stumbling slightly, “You’re like… You’re like…”

“Mm-hmm, I am,” Doc said, finally reaching the bunker’s front door. He threw the door open, effectively dragging Jester inside.

“Why do you have a croissant in your bag?” Jester asked.

Doc grunted, “That’s what the Jak-ass gave me as a joke of a weapon.”

“Well, it could be like a- like a- like a BOOMERANG.”

“I suppose it could, yeah-”

“Oh,” said a pretty familiar voice.

Dr. McNinja glared at the speaker. Yeah, he definitely recognized her. Hard to forget someone who set you on fire.

“You set me on fire,” Doc growled.

The woman looked at the croissant in Jester’s hand. The blue tiefling seemed to be trying to figure out how to open her mouth to chew it.

“I need that,” the pyromancer announced.

“So do I,” Doc said, raising a brow, “Well, *need* is a strong word-”

“No, as in…” The pyromancer lifted a jar of honey from her bag, displaying it Doc. “We both need it.”

***

Shikiria, as Dr. McNinja would learn, was overall a pretty reasonable woman. She was just as eager as Doc was to find out what the hell this honey-croissant would do. And, in the spirit of cooperation, she offered to share the results of whatever super-weapon this would turn into.

“Now, the question is,” Doc mumbled, “how the hell do you kill someone with a sticky croissant?”

“Maybe it’s not about killing?” Shikiria mused, “It could just be… I don’t know. A utility item.”

“Well, if Karl Jak sent us into a death game with two pieces of a dessert, I think I’m still gonna be pretty cross.”

“Noted.”

Doc watched intensely as Shikiria uncapped her jar of honey. Shikiria looked at Doc.

“You ready?”

“Probably not, but go ahead.”

Shikiria gently scooped out some of the honey and started drizzling it onto Doc’s croissants. The pair watched intensely as the honey oozed down the pastries, gently and with patience-

“BOO!”

Doc jumped and Shikiria scampered backwards as the loud voice startled the both of them. Jester stared at them with a shit-eating grin, even sticking her tongue out at Doc.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s real nice of you, Jester,” Doc groaned as he turned his attention back to the croissants.

And there they were. Honeyed croissants. Dr. McNinja’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my god he really sent us in here with two parts of a dessert.”

At that moment, Shikiria and Doc’s gadgets pinged. Jester cooed excitedly as he looked over Doc’s shoulder to read the message.

Combining Croissants B + Hunney makes 'Croissants A'! There are two 'servings' of these. Each serving will heal a Minor injury or downgrade one Major Injury to a Minor Injury.

Doc met Shikiria’s eyes. She nodded at the doctor. There was a tense moment as they both thought about what they learned.

“Well, there’s two croissants,” Shikiria said, “And two of us.”

“Three!” Jester chimed in.

“Two,” Doc corrected, “We might be part of a team-up, but this is between me and Shi-Shuku-”

“Shikiria,” the mage said.

“Shakira, right.” Doc gestured at the croissants. “So. One each?”

“That seems fair.”

Dr. McNinja stood up, grabbing one of the croissants. “Well, pleasure doing business with you. Good luck out there, hope you don’t kill me.”

Shikiria suppressed a chuckle as she reached for a handshake. Doc accepted it heartily. Jester, for some reason, decided to put her hand on top of their handshake with a giggle.

Shikiria gestured at Jester with her head. “She always do that?”

“I didn’t know her before the severe brain damage, but there’s a good chance.”

“Severe brain damage?”

“Ugh, yeah. Some shapeshifter, Toga, I think, stabbed her in the eye.”

“Oof.”

“That’s Dante’s Abyss for you,” Doc sighed, “What a fun-”

The whole bunker lurched, sending the three negotiators tumbling to the floor. Doc looked up and around.

“Did… did we just move again?”

 

[Rogue]

As Karl’s words cut out from our collars, ah couldn’t help but feel optimistic about today. We’d managed to get away from the horrible unmade storm, it had looked hairy for a few hours towards the end, but we had done it! It was the prettiest sight ah’d seen in days! Nothin’ quite makes ya appreciate a good wildland like spending a few days trekking through horrible twisted and torn up mountains. Fresh greens an’ running water ah wasn’t afraid would reach out and grab me if ah got too close! After that much time in the unmade wilderness and that much runnin’ to make sure we didn’t end up some kind of unmade monstrosity ah was just glad for a chance to stop and rest somewhere nice for a change. Ah knew we were still in a contest with lotsa killin’ on the horizon. But at the same time, we had a moment of reprieve. There’s a kind of good feeling that just doesn’t get shaken, ya know?

In the faint moonlight Aster an’ ah slipped in and out of the forests shadows. Ah was sure missin’ Riddick’s eyesight now, but Aster seemed ta know her routing pretty well, so ah let her take the lead. Suppose bein’ a wolf would help in cases like this.

“Yer nah able to like, smell the others an’ follow them are ya? That Riddick guy keeps trackin’ me…. It’d be nice ta be on the other end o’ things for once.”

Aster glanced back at me. Ah couldn’t make out her expression in the shadows, but ah don’t think she much appreciated the comment.

“Just because I’ve got luxurious fur does not make me a tracker, you know.” She scoffed, “I’m a store clerk! Besides, Karl’s obnoxiously unstylish addition to my outfit keeps all of that kinda stuffed muted out. All I’m smelling right now is my own burnt fur.”

“Darn.” Ah shrugged, “In that case we gotta start finding folks the old-fashion way.”

Aster propped her trident up on her shoulder. “So we’re going to start hunting for the other contestants? I thought you weren’t looking for the murder, death, and blood side of things? ”

Ah shrugged. “It’s not that ah’m lookin’ for that specifically, but as beautiful as it is ta be back inna wilderness where green is a color again, ah didn’t come out here for the hiking. There’s been no word on anybody dyin’ yet, which means, there’s gonna be a whole buncha people tryin’ to get out of this nightmare still.”

Aster’s remaining ear flattened somewhat.

“Hey, maybe we can just all… leave…” She frowned even as she made the suggestion, “There’s no way that Karl would have an Abyss without any deaths, is there.”

“It don’t seem very likely, no.”

Aster gave a sigh that was halfway reminiscent of a whine.

“What am I even doing out here?” She spoke it out loud, but it sounded more like it was to herself than to me.

It was a thought that every good, sane person should be thinkin’ after a few days of horrible violence an’ near death experiences. It also hadn’t even crossed mah mind once since signin’ up. Ah rubbed the side of my face. Guess tha’ went and proved it, didn’t it…

“Look…” Ah walked over, placing a gloved hand on Aster’s shoulder, “Choices’ve been made, an’ we’re here now. Ain’t nothing you can undo by wishin’ it was different. You’re really that done with this place, can see about hidin’ the bunker with all the near-dead folks. Maybe there’s enough folks still in good enough shape ta try an’ fix this thing, open up the way home, or whatever it does.”

Aster squinted at me.

“I’m not quitting.” She snapped, “I’ve just seen a goblin child on death’s door and had my ear sliced off! Nothing about that feels like it’s worth looking at again?”

Ah squinted back.

“That child was signed up for a death game. Hell, ah’d bet he probably signed himself up! It’s a raw deal, not denying that, but that’s life! It might not have occurred ta you, since yer onna those Arcadia folks with all your everythin’, but the Crossroads aren’t fair!”

Aster growled very softly. Ah was pushin’ things too far again… Ah stepped back, crossing my arms, but not pushing things any further. Aster turned her back to me, and we stood in silence for a moment.

“What do we do, then?” She asked finally, pokin at a patch of moss with her trident.

“Well,” Ah gave a faint grin, “Ah’ve got a good place ta start…”

 

[Sandor Clegane]

She wasn’t sure how long ago the bunker had landed in its new location. She wasn’t even sure if the bunker did land in a location, or if she was just losing whatever was left of her mind.

The Tiefling hugged her knees to her chest even though it hurt the slash wounds etched in her torso to do so. She hugged her knees as closely as possible and rested her forehead against them. Her lips moved, and a nearly indiscernible sound passed through them.

Doctor McNinja leaned in, ear cocked towards Jester’s mouth. “...what?”

“Do you think I’m ever going to sleep again?” asked the Cleric quietly.

Her head turned so that she could better see the Doctor. Jester’s face, once deep blue, had turned icier. The remaining pink eye had sunken deeper into its socket, and was shot with blood lines. A dark circle swimming about that same eye showed how exhausted the girl was. Despite this, Jester smiled a full smile that revealed two peaked canines.

“When I lived with my Mommy, I used to fall asleep listening to the ocean. The ocean was always there, and so was the Traveler. I could always hear the ocean, and even though I could not always hear the Traveler I always knew he was with me,” Jester stated, a fond swell in her voice. “I cannot hear the ocean anymore, though. I do not even hear the Traveler anymore. All I hear is this stupid ringing.”

Riiiiii…

Jester’s blue fingers wrapped themselves around her horns and clenched.

“It is very, very annoying. I do not think I will ever fall asleep again if it does not stop.”

Doctor McNinja studied her, but she couldn’t tell what expression he wore behind his balaclava. All she could see were his eyes, and they were tough for her to read.

Doc opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the footfall of soldiers approaching. Two of them, and in Jester’s sleep deprived and brain damaged eye they pretty much both looked the same. One had brown eyebrows and one had blonde eyebrows, but they both wore bucket helmets and were clean-shaven. Blonde-brows approached them, and looked down at where they sat with their backs pressed to the wall of the bunker hallway.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave. You heard Mr. Jak on the PDA,” intoned one soldier, though he didn’t sound afraid at all to Jester, or even remorseful.

She stood up slowly and leveled her pink eye on his brown one fiercely. Then, Jester pointed a finger right at the man’s nose.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Jester informed the soldier firmly.

“No, ma’am, I actually am going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You have to leave,” she repeated coolly, her blue lips a firm line.

Doctor McNinja put a hand on Jester’s raised hand and eased it down gently.

“Come on, Jester,” the Doctor told her, his voice level. “Let’s say goodbye to the others, and then we'll get going.”

Jester cast her roving eye over at McNinja and grimaced, putting a hand over the bandaged half of her face.

“I really wanted that guy to leave,” she murmured.

As they gathered up their bags, McNinja noticed that Jester’s pack still contained nearly her entire admittance quantity of rations save for one or two, and almost as many water bottles. He drew one out of Jester’s bag and planted it in the Tiefling's hand. Her slender blue fingers wrapped around it weakly.

“Drink,” the Doctor instructed his patient.

Following behind him, Jester uncapped the water bottle and gingerly took a sip.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…

 

[Demetri Malius]

Late Resolution is Late

BANG​

The shot the rang out across the volcano echoes louder than any of the others, leaving a deafening silence to follow it. When Fennec peeked around the corner of the large rock to see who was still standing, she let out a sigh of relief to see that it was her partner.

Demetri stood over the Legend’s bloody body, a fire in his eyes from the exchange.

“So, I take it yours was the real one?”

Demetri glanced back at her before grabbing the revolver from the trickster's corpse. He examined it for a moment before he kicked the body with his foot, sending it back into the volcano. A wicked smirk spread across his face.

“Not at all. Simply holding it the wrong way."

Poor lad was asking the wrong question. Too bad he couldn't see it right.

"How unfortunate,” he added smugly.

Fennec pursed her lips in concern before shrugging it off.

“Let’s get out of here before the gunfire draws something else our way.” She turned to leave the volcano top. As Demetri looked her way, he saw the silhouette leaning against the rock she passed.

"And here I thought I was the one who played dirty."

The thief paid the shadow no mind as he followed his bounty hunter companion.

“Aye, let’s go.”

 

[Gildarts]

A stealthy perch housed the sullen specter who was watching over the freshly revitalized haricot vert- her greenbean. There was a tiny silver spotlight overhead.

Jester and him were playing in a little patch of grass just outside the bunker. Above the two cuties a grotesque sky loomed, dark not just from the time but from the impending doom. It was still early morning, death couldn’t get them yet.

Jester’s symphonic giggle cascaded Christine’s ears as Jester looked across to Slurt, they were holding hands. “You know I think I met someone who looked just like you recently… Odd, really…”

Still, the fully shadowed specter would not evade the watchful eyes of a fellow good hunter. A silhouette of a shadow began to move, finally the image fully formed as though popping into sight.

“You there… Come here.” The crackly voice echoed in the night.

Christine pulled from her hunched position and winced as she crawled gently down from her rooftop spot. “Monsieur Gascoigne,” She bowed regally, “Always a pleasure.”

The words rang true, accentuated by the dire circumstances. It was likely Gascoigne could smell her blood, his beady eyes sighted the heavy dent taken off her shoulder. “Thank you, m’lady.” The hunter greeted the woman with some warmth as his eyes fell on the kid playing on the ground.

Still under her watch and she’d likely been compromised for it. “Hmm.” He grunted softly and extended his hand. “I think you will make better use of this than I will.”

Christine blinked as something disguised by his bony hand extended to her. Something cold and heavy lay pressed against her skin. It had a smooth sheen. The French woman’s eyes grappled against the darkness as she attempted to convey a questioning gaze.

“To ensure your cub’s safe return. So you may join the hunt unhindered.” The hatted man dipped his head and then fell back into the gentle sheathe of night.

Christine’s jaw dropped, before she could say anything he was gone. “OH MON DIEU!”

Her legs and weakened lungs could not carry her even across the ten foot of distance before she collapsed into the ground next to them.

“Do you know what this is? The answer to our prayers!” Christine held the large ring-looking-thing to the heavens triumphantly, raised high by her good shoulder. “Slurt, you precious, petit prince… You’re saved.”

Jester blinked as she looked up at the all-important shiny. Christine’s excitement couldn’t be matched by a single gaze, her movements and demeanor were bustling with joy. The specter's mind, buzzing with frantic thoughts of planning.

Christine’s face then fell flat. She realized what she must do to herself and the cold again gripped her heart. There was only one.

“S-so Slurt…” Christine’s voice wavered as she couldn’t regulate her breath, much less how her emotional her tone became. “I… ‘Ave a very important prize for you mon cherie. If you wear it that means… You win. You know? You get to go home. A-and when you put it on… I’ll… I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

She reiterated to the boy, trying to strengthen those wavers that kept on skewing her words. “I’ll be your home.”

“What do you mean Miss Chwistine?” Slurt looked at her with the same childlike innocence that had initially bound the soulless woman to the boy.

“It is so ‘ard to explain but so, so very important…” Christine bit her lip. “What you need to know, precious prince, is that I’ll come back for you. You have my promise, you ‘ave my life. It waits for you and you alone. You’ve completed me in a way I never would ‘ave expected. I want you to know and this is something I have never been more certain of. You’re my home too.”

The emotional words rang with consequence to the child. Slurt’s big eyes watched the silent crescendo of tears rolling off of the smooth curves of her face. Slurt felt immense sorrow wreathe in his heart. He felt like Miss Christine was crying over him. But, if he’d won, why would she do that?

His tiny emerald hand reached up and covered her cheek, as it did, Jester's blue thumb touched the other one.

Wiping away twin tears with friendship and love. Christine’s eyes fell gratefully on Jester, who was grinning with encouragement. Feeling the importance of the moment, but not knowing why, much like Slurt in that regard.

“S-so, you must do this. Put it on and it’ll take you home… And I’ll be there waiting for you.” Because she didn’t have a choice not to. Whatever Hell she needed to rise from to be by Slurt’s side, she would. Christine didn’t need to find her soul to feel like this, alive once again.

Christine stood up, turning away as the tears turned into uncontrollable wheezing, which turned to coughing that ripped against her lungs and harsh contractions of her ribs.

“But Chwistine… I don’t have a home.” Slurt uttered so quiet, it was drowned out by her lungs screaming for air.

“Jester, time to come along…” A doctor’s voice cooed from the distance.

Jester, totally forgetting the reason her thumb was wet, stood up quickly and bounded away with Slurt’s hand still in hers.

When Christine turned back, they were both gone.

The bracelet must’ve taken them both back. The tear ridden Christine rationalized. She wished she'd been able to travel with them. Teleporting only went so far when it was technology based. That little silver ring was absolutely one use.

Christine had taken the time to slip a quick note under the door she’d last seen Kolith, hopefully she’d get the message before he left. She didn’t want to bother waking him from precious, survival slumber. She also didn’t want to have to look him in the eyes and tell him the means of her goodbye

Instead, she walked into the woods surrounded by leaves and the shadows of solitude.

The woman exhaled clothed in darkness. Alone.

This was it. She gulped and steadied her mind as the intention formed across her fingers faster than it had in her mind. Previously, she had vowed only to die one way. That was to be reborn. And in a sense, she was for she would never be the same. To have such a purpose, to get to Slurt and to protect him still had given her… The piece of herself that she lacked.

Christine’s hand gripped the anklet and not a moment too soon, Riddick’s voice called from the dark, interrupting her motion with a slight startle.

It was always his voice calling out from the dark.

Her bitter gaze pulled from that of the picture making up her view. Fingertips on the silver shackle around her leg. Now to Riddick, who was close enough to see the waters of sorrow and of joy, smeared across her glistening face.

He expressed this command, “Not so fast, murder queen. You’ve got one more thing to do.”

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Faint footsteps filled Shikiria's ears as she trekked through the infected land. Her boots digging against the slowly corroding gravel. These last few days were more taxing than she'd have liked to admit, first she was blasted by the now concussed and seemingly brain damaged Jester, who's name she learned by paying attention while she was in the safehouse. Then she'd found the only person who had her item counterpart was the person she'd set ablaze and stolen the quest item from. quite lovely.

Needless to say, she wasn't feeling the best about her overall perfomance these last few days.

She'd keep going however, as she needed. She'd failed to ask about Iza while she was in the group of people. It didn't seem best to start asking around about some rando when other chaos was ensuing, even if that chaos was as subtle as a droplet of water on a blade of grass. The severity of it was mortifying. Genuinely. She'd considered giving Jester her serving of the croissant. But instinct and common sense kept her from taking that route. She at least had a team looking out for her. Shikiria only had herself.

She sighed deeply, taken aback by how depressing that statement truly was. To be utterly and truly alone. In a harsh unforgiving environment where the slightest mistake could spell your end. Wished she could find common ground with them. But she didn't like her chances after injuring one and lighting up the other.

Speaking of lighting up. She needed to refocus her magic, running out of her main line of defense and offense alike didn't bode well for any amount of fighting she may have to endure in the future. That's not to say she was entirely powerless without it, but it saved her skin now on more than one occasion. First against Mcninja, then against the blue caster she'd fought. Then against those other two she'd tried to steal from...

She sighed. She didn't know what to make of this whole thing. It certainly brought out the worst in people, but there were a certain few she'd seen at the bunker who'd seemingly found resolve in protecting each other. What did that make her? As a person of noble birth it was her duty to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Yet here she was attacking and stealing like a bandit on a killing spree... Disgraceful... Her fists flashed a bright crimson as she re-attuned her power.

Her eyes flashed back to flames of her carriage in that tragic moonlit forest. Her sister behind her, their hands clenched together as they fled the horrid scene. Until the whistle of arrow fire and simultaneous scream of her younger sibling pierced the night air. She looked back to see she was simply dragging the girl, the arrow lodged deep in her skull.

She flashed back to the present just as quickly. A couple of blinks, and deep, shaky breaths were all it took to control her emotions once more.

As she calmed down, she noticed another small, yellow bird tweeting out, and hurriedly hopping along the ground... the ground? She then noticed it's leg. twisted and bent unnaturally. But not too badly. What had taken it out of the air? Was it the same bird she'd seen before? No, she surmised. That was simply too impossible, there were probably a hundred like birds.

Nonetheless she picked the small creature up. Giving it a gentle kiss on it's little head, as she placed it on a nearby branch. " Get well soon little guy, and then get out of here. You shouldn't be here." She said with a warming smile. Gently stroking it's tiny feathers with a finger. Before continuing on with her trek.

Hopefully that little bird got out of this hellish abyss alright.

 

[Nico Cinder]

A tall, looming man thing lumbered into the bunker kitchen. Nico was crouched in a chair, and stopped the airplane burrito mid-flight from Deadpool's masked face. They both look at the man.

He sniffed.

Twice.

Deadpool and Nico exchange a look. "You hungry, big fella?" Nico asked.

Something between a bark and a laugh erupted from the man's mouth full of teeth. Some sort of bandaging or fabric covered his eyes, but Nico felt the odd pressure of a gaze nonetheless. Perhaps not directly on him, at him. Nico struggled not to look down, where the malefactor rested in its briefcase beneath the table. Nico's brow furrowed. This guy seemed kinda familiar too, for some reason, but even less so than the cowboy. He reminded Nico of a tombstone.

"Hungry...thirsty...all of these things. Symptoms and boons from the hunt, alike." Behind the man, another robed figure limped into the doorway, eyes darting about the room in that shifty way Nico is accustomed to himself.

"Well-" Nico started, but is abruptly cut off by his dining partner.

"Weeeellll, 'bout time for me to be hittin' that old dusty trail," Deadpool said with a drawl, rising to a stand. He quickly excused himself, starting for the opposite end of the room only to find that the kitchenette only had one entrance and exit. Awkwardly, he turned around and squeezed past Dead and Dead-er. Nico waved him off.

"Well," Nico tried again. "That guy stole the last of my soda, but you two are welcome to some food."

"It's in here somewhere, lad," the blind man said to his companion. "The scent is much more vibrant in here."

Nico very nonchalantly went from squatting in his chair to sitting in it. He put both his feet on the briefcase.

"The scent of egg?" Nico offered.

The shorter guy nodded at Nico, staring with a weird smile. Sizing him up, Nico figured. "Under the table, I would think, Father Gascoigne."

Shit.

"That obvious, huh?" Nico said back with a weak grin. "Yeah. I got somethin' on me alright."

The man Nico assumed to be Gascoigne nodded. "No need to be fearful, boy. While it is of interest, it is only curiosity that brought us here. Whatever wretched item you have in your possession absolutely reeks of..." The Father sniffed again, whipping his head to the side with a grunt as if about to sneeze. "Bloodlust."

"No, actually I think that might just be me you're gettin' a whiff of there, big guy." Nico responded. Father Gascoigne shook his head.

"More of a whelp, you are, than thirsty, methinks." The hunter sat down at the table next to Nico, and gingerly picked up a sausage patty with his bare hands. He tilted his head to the side, swatting the patty lightly with his free hand. Then, he ate it. Whole. The other gentleman leaned against the fridge, seemingly uninterested in food at the moment. He sure was giving Nico a look though. The rockstar wasn't really sure what to do with these guys. He know he offered, but he wasn't really expecting them to sit down with him.

Nico blinked at him. "I'm Nico," he tried.

"I am known as Father Gascoigne," the man said.

"Sigmund. Tell me," Sigmund said quickly, pressing on. "What is the nature of those markings along your arm?"

Nico looked down at his arm, covered in various pieces of art that it was. He put some of them there himself. "Tattoos. They don't ink people where you're from?"

"I'm familiar with the practice." Sigmund nodded. "But the nature of the symbols themselves? Some of those glyphs are mostly unfamiliar to me, though perhaps only distantly so."

Nico scanned his limb for whatever this guy might be talking about. He must consider himself the esoteric type, to be asking about 'glyphs'. The boy's eyes alight on an old symbol he did some years ago now. An infinity sign, one vertical line running upwards from the middle, and two horizontal lines crossing that one. The Leviathan's Cross. He tried not to let the disdain show on his face. This was little more than a brand, now. A mark of ownership, claiming Nico as property of Hell. And he didn't really feel like talking about it.

"I dunno," Nico said, leveling his voice. "I just thought it looked cool."

"I see," Sigmund responded quietly. Nico thought he saw a glimmer in his eyes for a split second. Disappointment? Understanding? Disbelief? Nico couldn't tell.

"Well, thank you for the food," Sigmund said, despite eating none of it. "If you'd like to know more about your 'ink', I am quite knowledgeable in such things. Perhaps when we next meet it won't be under such circumstances." he gestured with open palms.

"And thank you for humoring an old dog, following his nose," Gascoigne added, also standing to leave. His chair scraped against the ground somethin' fierce. "Come, Sigmund. We're not likely to get much rest moving forward."

God, talking to people is hard.

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Christine was quick on her feet. Guess Riddick lit a fire under her ass - an enigma all his own to deal with, but not necessarily her problem. Not right now, at least.

Now… Christine, on the other hand?

She gave a nod to Shinku, moving out from her own position. She could pretty much figure out what she was doing just from the direction, and she’d been ready for when Christine left, eventually.

“Hello there!” Chara spoke up, looking over to Christine with a broad smile. “It is good that I I caught you.”

Christine looked up to her with some surprise. “I have something I need to do. I am afraid I can’t slow down, miss Chara-”

“Of course you do.” Chara would reply, her words having a steel that cut past her normal manner. “You just sacrificed your best chance at leaving this place alive, as the walls close in and the unmade swarm around us. From here on, you need to figure out how to navigate the rest of this island, between the warriors that would doom us all for their own selfish ambitions, or the unmade monsters trying to warp us into Darkseid’s pawns. You have made your choice, and have readied to face the final gauntlet…”

Chara looked Christine up and down, her words devoid of their usual airiness or humor.

“That is then. This is now.”

Christine met her eyes with chilling ones of her own. “What do you need to do?”

Chara looked back, before giving a grin. “It is simple. You are like me, yet you have reached the end of the play. That is where my role comes in.” The judge replied. “To assess your soul.”

“My… Soul?” Christine echored, but in Chara’s cold eyes, she found no immediate answer, as the judge continued
“Your Soul. To decide what must be done from here. Whether you are a threat to the crossroads due to your capacity to hurt, or whether you are safe.”

Christine met her eyes with a look of surprise, as she saw only steel In Chara’s own. It lasted only a moment longer before Chara gave her a smile. “But as we are in a rush, I will skip the usual grilling. You have sacrificed a chance at life to protect another. You have fought just as often to protect others as you have to protect yourself. You have a well-stained soul, that I have no doubt of… but if you have not noticed already, well, you have a soul again. It appears the Prince has saved his damsel after all.” Chara would reply with a smile.

Christine looked Chara up and down with a look of confusion, before putting a hand to her chest. “You mean…”

“I am sure of it. I can even scientifically prove that, soon.” Chara would reply, allowing her tenseness to leave as she shifted back into a more casual fashion. “But I have dealt with the soulless, before. You are not among them. Whatever you’ve lost, you’ve found something new to replace it with… it happens, just not often.” Chara replied.

“And why did you need to tell me all of this now, miss Chara?” She asked.

“Because, good or evil, it is important to face your fate knowing who you are. And you are a doting mother who is ready to make good on past mistakes. Whatever Slurt did, whatever your allies have said or done, it’s still you” Chara replied, putting a finger on Christine’s chest. “That made all of those choices. So, feel good about this. Know that you have become a person worth respecting. Worth relying on and fighting alongside. And if there is a next time around for your life…”

Chara leaned in with a smile, “...I would recommend trying for the peaceful route from the beginning. It suits you better. Now… Come on. I have a friend for you to meet. I have no intentions on letting you face this last road alone.” She replied, flashing Christine a genuine smile.


“Chara… who are you?”

“I’m a lot of things. A judge being among them.” Chara would reply easily, before giving a smile. “But right now, I’m a well-fed girl filled with the blessing of a heavenly sandwich and ready to get going. How about we head out?”

 

[Kefka Palazzo]

“Huh? What? What??”

He scrambled backwards on heel and palm, frantic eyes, buggy with fright, scanning, his head turning and twisting unceasing, like a panicky bird.

Finally, he slackened just a little, his pounding hard thrumming inside him. He wasn’t falling into a volcano, although his legs and groin burned with pain nonetheless. His pants had melted into his flesh, and he knew nothing would be getting better from here.

He calmed enough to realize that Screamstickle had not been so lucky. He’d been teleported away, inches from the liquid hot magma, but his stoically silent friend apparently hadn’t.

Cast into a volcano. A sacrifice.

He set his jaw and focused in his mind the image of his would-be killer. A bald, brash, bravado-besotted bastard who’d brutally burned him.

Kefka smirked. He quite liked that man.

Though he could mostly push through it, taking that hit really had hurt a lot. His affected flesh felt as though it was still burning. He ground his teeth in response, occasionally sucking a sharp hiss of pain or groaning from the effort.

He chuckled. Here and there, he bubbled over with little snickers and giggles. Like a child trying not to laugh at a naughty joke because he knew he’d be in trouble. Soon, he was doubled over, hysterical with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“And that’s- that’s why-” he wheezed through the laughter. “N-No, gotta wait for an audience.”

He giggled and chuckled to himself, gleefully keeping a brisk pace, not even feeling his nasty burns for the moment.

Ahead, suddenly, he could see what he’d come for. Kefka chuckled again, almost losing it a second time. Gotta wait…

He approached the ramshackle bunker, softly giggling as he went.

He arrived at the door and cleared his throat a couple of times, composing himself. A good joke was all about the delivery. And this was a good joke.

Kefka opened the door and let himself in, hands raised in non-defiance of the soldiers who’d pointed their weapons at him. They lowered their guns and he took in his new crowd. Some boring military types, and…

“You there!” he pointed to the blue horned girl and her companion. “And then he almost went and made my wiener a hot dog!”

Kefka belted out a peal of laughter, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. After a while, he’d collected himself and realized nobody else was laughing.

“Oh, wait- I guess I started with the punchline. Well, anyway, I promise it was very funny. I’m Kefka Palazzo, God of Magic, Ruler of Everything. How do you do?”

 

[Shinku]

As if on cue, a figure formed from the shadows and materialized into the tattooed assassin, the moment Chara and Christine left the bunker.

“Greetings ladies,” Trevor spoke up, gesturing a noble’s bow in front of the two. “And I believe I have something that belongs to you,” he continued, as he pulled out a deactivated light saber from his pocket.

Christine’s eyes glistened as she saw her weapon at Trevor’s hand. She quickly stepped forward, barely reaching for the piece of metal. With her finger, she framed around the handle before abruptly letting go.

“I’ve been bested,” she’d offer a subtle grin. “I believe you should keep what is yours.”

“I…certainly would love to keep this sword however…,” Trevor stuttered, surprised at the lady’s unlikely response. “...I’m afraid you still need something to fight with. How about you take this blaster instead?,” he offered, extending his hand with the proto buster at the lady.

“Truly a gentleman,” Christine eyed him with a wilted twinkle. “I’ll use this to watch your back, monsieur,” she flirted, collecting the weapon from the assassin’s hand.

“It…suits you well,” Trevor remarked shyly, his face suddenly flushing in red. For a moment, his eyes couldn’t leave the lady, forming a sudden awkward air between the two.

“Ehem,” Chara intervened, before Christine could form another response. “I assume you two knew each other…”

“Oh, I’m Trevor…,” the assassin of shadows suddenly blurted, unintentionally cutting off Chara’s speech.

“Merci beaucoup Trevor, enchanté,” Christine responded gracefully letting off another wry smile at Trevor, “I’m Christine,” she continued another wink leaving her eye.

“Ok now that’s settled shall we head off?” Chara spoke once again, a small hint of impatience evident in her tone.

“Of course,” Trevor replied briefly, quickly averting his eyes at the forest before them.

“Well, with a gentleman among us, I think we have nothing to worry about,” Christine remarked, her eyes then pinned back at Chara.

Without further ado, the trio headed off with Chara on the lead. No one dared to look back at the bunker until they disappeared within the early shadows of the forest.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#07 Anders, #22 Fennec & #18 Demetri vs #14 Caustic & #12 Lilith​

The trio had taken a loose formation as they trekked toward the next destination on their list. After the volcano, they had stumbled upon an understanding with an individual by the name of Anders—one of the many improvised agreements that happens when you’re thrust onto a foreign landscape and tasked with surviving against all odds.

It was Anders who happened to wander into Lilith’s trap. Her gun barked into the night sky as the thief spun and dove to avoid the shot. Even after she fired, the woman lifted her face and seemed confused. In that moment, the Wingman’s rapport shattered the momentary silence, and the woman twisted as she crashed down to the ground.

Demetri, his attention shifting to the fallen Anders, failed to hear the faint movement of the hoodie-clad man.

Caustic leapt, his weight slamming into the unaware thief and driving Demetri—face-first—into a rock. The man lost consciousness, but the doctor was unable to draw his hammer. The machete slammed into him, slicing into flesh and muscle with enough force to jar his arm out of its intended joint.

Eyes going red, Caustic shoved away Fennec and went for his hammer once again, but as he did, a fount of flames roared up into the night sky.

“Stop!” A familiar voice screamed as Doctor Caustic spotted a haggard Anders staring at him from a few yards away.

Spoiler

Caustic shoulder is bloodied and dislocated (Minor Injury)
Lilith suffered a glancing shot from a bullet (Minor Injury)
Demetri suffered a head injury (Major Injury) and he will hallucinate dead, burned Mirage tormenting him for the remainder of the event (Story Injury)
Anders got shot in the stomach (Minor Injury)

Fennec was pressured into one application of Focus.

I am considering all five of you allied for the remainder of your stay on this square. If anyone disagrees, please PM me as soon as possible.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#11 Jester & #26 Dr. McNinja vs #24 Shikiria​

The Good Doctor and his patient had been outside of the bunker for a few hours when the prognosis went from ‘unpleasant’ to ‘somehow even worse.’

She had spared a bird just a few hours earlier, but as Shikiria trailed the pair, her mind was laser-focused on the hooded man’s prize. After what felt like hours at the safehouse, she knew he held one of the trinkets that would usher her off of this unpleasant World, and while their first run-in had less than ideal, she was prepared to make sure she didn’t repeat any mistakes this time, especially since the blue-haired woman seemed to be allied with the man this time.

“I got this,” Shikiria muttered as she removed the sphere from her duffel bag and sent it rolling down the pathway in front of her.

Jester and McNinja had been walking silently when the orange ball rolled between their legs and came to a stop just a few yards ahead of them. McNInja, even in the dark, spotted the number of stars on its surface and scowled. He recognized this particular object.

“This is a trap,” he whispered as he turned just in time to receive a fire-infused slap in the face. Ethereal flames dancing onto his visage, the doctor stumbled and dropped to the ground as his mind momentarily shifted to the searing agony of his face.

Shikiria twisted and managed to knock Jester’s hand up just as the tiefling’s finger found the trigger of the gun. The ice-infused projectile soared into the night sky like a beautiful, twinkling comet in reverse. While her spirits had been high the last few hours, Jester’s naturally limited strength had nevertheless been sapped after days of injuries. She felt herself being shoved backwards by the mage, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t overpower her foe.

Smelling the blood, Shikiria landed a hard kick into Jester’s leg. The tiefling collapsed as Caster hit the ground and skittered a few feet. Turning around, Shikiria kicked the ninja in the face just as he finished suffocating the flames that had scalded his head. She paused for a moment to grab her quest item from the ground. She’d collect the other one later, but for now, she had to make sure she didn’t leave any loose ends.

Hands literally buzzing with electricity, Shikiria threw a punch into Jester’s hip.

The bursts of lightning danced across the cleric’s form before literally erupting out through her left leg in a gruesome spatter of instantly blackened blood and organic matter. For her own sake, Jester went into shock almost immediately as Shikiria turned to finish off the ninja.

Instead, she found him staring at her—smoke still swirling above his blacked head—with the gun in his hands. In her brain, she knew she should have kicked away the damn weapon.

Shikiria twisted and ran. The bullet struck her just above her right kidney and tore clean through her abdomen but not before infusing her with a terrible jolt of electricity that nearly set her hair of fire.

The damn woman with the magic fists stumbled and collapsed against a fallen tree. McNinja cocked back the hammer but found his focus drawn to a now screaming Jester, who was lying in a pool of blood.

When McNinja shifted his gaze back, the other woman had slinked back into the shadows—yet another loose end on an island starting to become congested with them.

Spoiler

Dr. McNinja suffered some burns (again, how irritating --- Minor Injury)
Jester’s left leg is shattered. She can’t walk on her own and will die in twelve (IC) hours – at the start of Day 3, Phase 4 (Mortal Injury)
Shikiria got shot (Major Injury, supplants all prior injuries for tracking purposes) and electrocuted and will suffer the ill effects of that for a while (Story Injury)

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#19 Caboose vs #20 Nico Cinder​

Nico had left behind the confines of the bunker and the high-quality jokes of his new best friend. With the Malefactor tucked safely into his duffel bag, he had set out for parts that were unknown to all parties save Nico Cinder.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from the dark as someone in a power suit came jogging over to Nico, who took the moment to sling his rocket launcher to a spot where he could easily access the trigger.

“…S’up?” Nico remarked. This guy kind of looked familiar, but his voice didn’t seem to match the future-tech marine look.

“I’m here to rob you of all your stuff,” Caboose threatened in the least threatening voice Nico Cinder had heard in the last twenty-ish years of his mostly all right existence.

“You for real, my guy?”

Caboose stepped forward with a strange amount of speed and stabbed his sword into Nico’s stomach.

There was a whoosh as the rocket exploded into Caboose’s stomach and sent the armored man flailing backwards into the woods.

Spoiler

Nico got stabbed in the stomach (Minor Injury) by an absolute idiot (Story Injury)
Caboose got blasted off like he was foiled from stealing some Pokémon (Major Injury). He landed and suffered a grade seven concussion (a real thing, trust me, I’m in athletics and Karl’s in a lot of athletes) and will be convinced he is Doomguy (for reals) for the remainder of his tenure here (Story Injury)

 

[Karl Jak]

Morning/Phase 2
(0600 - 1200)​

"Hello! Exciting developments, but let's go over areas that are going to be wholly dangerous (lethal) in just six hours:

"M7
R2
T4
R7"

***​

This phase ends tomorrow, 6-21 at 9 AM

As a reminder, six quest items need to be returned to the O4 safehouse before we discover where the final item will be <3

Happy trails!

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#01 Slurt Crumbucket & #10 Riddick vs #27 Pyke​

The unlikely pairing had made it out of the safehouse by just a few hours when Riddick immediately started to feel unease.

While by no means an unredeemable monster, the bounty hunter still possessed all the traits and quirks of an alpha predator, which meant it wasn’t long before he realized what was going on while the twosome treaded toward the destination.

Pausing sharply, Riddick casually dropped to a knee and glanced over his head at a confused Slurt. “We have a shadow,” the man whispered as he held a finger up to his nose.

Hissssss

The stick of dynamite hit the ground between the two of them—its wick already precariously low.

Snatching it up, Riddick twisted and threw, but the explosive light up the night sky before it had managed to get a foot beyond his outstretched fingers. The blast swept up Riddick and Slurt as it robbed them both of their sight and sound for the duration of the trip and a number of moments after both settled into different heaps of smoke-drenched limbs.

The bounty hunter stirred first. His eyes noted the position of Slurt, whose tiny chest was still rising and falling, even if the motions were clearly distressed. Riddick shifted his night vision to the landscape around them.

“Looks clear,” he grumbled to himself after a few moments of spotting nothing out of the ordinary in the dark. Glancing down, Riddick grimaced at the fistful of raw meat that his left hand had been reduced to. While his hearing was still blown to shit, the man’s nose worked fine enough to tell him that something reeked of salt around him. A pungent, briny stench that clung to sorry ass sobs who had to live their lives on oceans for a living.

“What’s dat!” Slurt wheezed as Riddick’s head twisted. The bounty hunter grabbed the harpoon four inches from the little goblin’s forehead. Unwilling to let go, the man was wrenched backwards when the owner of said projectile recalled his weapon. Dragged for a few feet, Riddick eventually got his feet under him, popped up into a crouch, and wrenched on the harpoon. There was a moment of resistance before Pyke released the rope, causing Riddick to spill backwards as the Bilgewater assassin rushed in to pounce.

Feeling to fetid stench of the ocean’s deeps wash over him, the bounty hunter intercepted the hands before they could wrap around his throat. His eyes met those of Pyke, whose burned with their own type of shine.

“Something dark crawled up in there, didn’t it?” Riddick muttered as the unmade assassin tried to overpower him. With one of his hands barely functional, the bald mercenary knew that he was going to lose this tussle, so he threw out his good set of digits and grabbed the rope. A tug pulled the harpoon to him, and even with his head still ringing, Riddick managed to bury that shiv into Pyke’s underbelly.

A normal man would have been stopped. Hell, even a briny revenant would have been stopped.

Pyke’s eyes only seemed to burn with all the more fury as he closed his wet, ichorous fingers around Riddick’s throat and started to squeeze.

Unable to free the harpoon from its owner’s own gut, Riddick grabbed at the slimy arms pinning him down. The world started to shift in an out of focus as the bounty hunter tried to reach for the face of the unmade assassin.

“Mistaw Widdick!”

The bounty hunter turned as the goblin child tossed him something. Catching it with his good hand, Riddick grimaced as he drove the business end of the spork into one of Pyke’s eyes, burying it deep into the monstrous assassin’s skull. For a moment, the assault seemed to have no effect but than the wind quickly went out of Pyke’s sails as he slumped forward onto Riddick.

“Off of me,” Riddick grunted as he shoved the dead man off of him. “That’s for earlier,” he muttered as he wrenched the spork out of the corpse’s skull.

Spoiler

#27 Pyke DEAD​

Pyke used 1 stick of dynamite
Pyke used 1 application of Focus

Riddick’s got some mangled/broken fingers (Major Injury)
Slurt cracked his head pretty hard (Major Injury)

Riddick receives the last piece of dynamite

 

[Kopaka]

Riddick examined the black blood oozing off of the twisted spork, and everything seemed to fade for a moment. The animal side was coming back. The Furyan killer, who liked the taste of other people's bodies. The guy who once drowned a cellmate in his own piss for touching Riddick's stale protein waffles.

And here I am, playing the pacifier to some floppy green kid. God has a fucked up sense of humor.

"Slurt. Help me out with this." the perp rumbled as he began to rip shreds of unmade, bloody cloth off of Pyke's corpse. There was no immediate response, and he looked over his shoulder. Slurt was sitting, motionless, in the dirt as silent tears rolled down his face. It wasn't the concussion slowly bleeding into his skull, no. Slurt was becoming alarmingly accustomed to pain.

The goblin tyke had never seen a dead body before. At least, not one that wasn't a rat or pigeon or something.

"Slurt, we gotta move. Help me." Riddick said, slightly more insistently.

Shoulda kept moving last night. Took it slow for the kid. A velociraptor on Kraw is eating her own young right now, and here I am letting myself get chewed up for this fucking runt.

Riddick took a deep breath, and stilled himself. There was nothing else to do at this point. It wasn't Slurt's fault so many grownups had failed him, consistently, throughout his pathetic little life. The buck had to stop somewhere.

But why does it always gotta be me?

"Slurt! I need another hand, dammit!" Riddick barked. The goblin jolted out of his stunned torpor and sniffled his way across the cracked stones towards the massacre. Riddick didn't like snapping at Slurt, but fuck, things were gonna get shitty and they didn't have time for sentiment.

Fuck Christine for coddling him.

Fuck Jester for treating him like a tote bag.

Fuck me for being the wrong guy for this job.

"Here. Wash it off with this water, then take these strips and spin them real, real tight around my bad hand." Riddick said with cool control. The pain was still distant, dulled by the hit of endorphines his seasoned body always had on standby. Give it twenty minutes, and it would really start to make itself known. All the better to be rough with it now.

Slurt did as he was instructed, using one of his own many, many bottles to squirt clear, cleansing liquid onto the mangled extremity. Of all the things that he could afford to lose, his hands were last on the list. He'd rather lose one of his precious, shined up eyeballs than one of his practiced, honed killing implements.

He had to laugh. So he offered a dark, self-pitying chuckle.

"Widdick?" Slurt sniffled, looking up at the man. Riddick adjusted his goggles upwards to peer at the sunrise ahead of them.

"Nothin'. Just laughing at how fucked things are."

"...huh?" Slurt said, continuing to wrap the listless hand. Riddick crouched down slightly to be at eye level with the kid.

"Slurt, you're a real tough sonnova bitch, you know that?" Riddick said, still grinning. The goblin shook his head slowly.

"Not...weawy. I can't kill nobody wike you, and..." Slurt whimpered, but was cut off as Riddick jammed a thumb in the kid's mouth. The goblin's yellow eyes went wide, and he froze.

"Oh, I bet you could. Just look at these puppies. Wish I had some like that." Riddick said, baring his own teeth and licking his canines. He withdrew his good hand forcefully, intentionally cutting himself on one of Slurt's fangs.

"See that? Got me bleeding. But killing people ain't gonna get you outta here. Nah..." Riddick said, sighing to increase the effect, "...nah, the one thing I do better than killing is surviving. Getting out of tight spots. Bet you know all about that."

Slurt nodded slowly as he finished up the wrapping. It was a bit loose, to be completely frank, but it would have to do. The merc tightened the salvaged bandage and tied it off before walking over to Pyke's body and nudging it with his foot. Slurt followed the con cautiously, and spoke in a slightly more confident voice.

"...one time, me 'n Jimmy stowe some hotdawgs from tha hotdawg man. Jimmy is weawy big an' talked to him, and I sneaked awound the hotdawg man and took a lot of hotdawgs. He saw me, but I can wun weawy fast and I wan unduw a twuck and got away!" Slurt boasted. Riddick smiled, in spite of himself, and was suddenly very aware of the crow's feet around his eyes.

How do I tell the kid that it ain't gonna change much for the rest of his life?

How long I been running from the hotdog man?

Predictably, the Unmade freak didn't have anything else useful on him, in the way of rations or water. Riddick contented himself by giving the corpse a rude shove with his foot, causing it to tumble and bump down a forested hillside. He felt Slurt clutching onto his good hand, and looked down at the goblin boy, who was staring in the direction Pyke's remains had tumbled. The kid's face was droopy and unfocused, and he'd probably be passing out here in ten minutes or so...but for now, a sort of primal sense of focus was set into the boy's soft features.

"I can teach you how to kill a man real easy Slurt. But I could never teach you how to keep walking after you keep getting your shit kicked in. That's all you." Riddick mumbled. Slurt didn't totally understand the sentiment, but he nodded just the same.

"...I wanna...twy." Slurt swallowed. Riddick patted the goblin boy on his dome. He could see the furious mixture of confusion, regret, and indignation running through the kid's mind. It was a familiar emotion.

"Let's walk and talk. Lemme tell you about something called the jugular."

 

[Sandor Clegane]

There is a term in the medical field for a phenomenon that occurs shortly before a patient’s death. In this difficult time a patient who is struggling and has lost some cognitive function can become suddenly lucid and appear to be on the upswing for a brief period of time. Shortly thereafter the patient passes.

Doctor McNinja recalled that the term in question was terminal lucidity.

As Jester lay upon the ground in a pool of blood she stared up at the sky. Her leg had spattered blood and splattered tissue about the surrounding area in a gruesome display. The prognosis was grim - just from the volume and the color of the blood pool the Tiefling lay in McNinja could tell that the shock would be instant, and the Cleric wouldn’t last long. He walked over to her and kneeled in the mess, putting two fingers to her wrist.

The pulse was weak.

“I can remember the Menagerie Coast,” Jester stated clearly. Her voice was stronger than it had been, and clear. Terminal lucidity. “I remember my Mom, and I remember leaving. I remember getting here, and I remember walking with you.”

Jester’s blue fingers wrapped around McNinja’s hand and squeezed.

“It must have been hard for you, but you have done really, really well,” the Cleric informed the Doctor.

She tilted her head a bit and gave him a smile. Already her face, deep blue days ago, had gone the color of the palest ice. Even her dark blue lips were nearly drained of color.

Her off hand, laying in the growing wet, red puddle on the ground and clutching Caster, raised weakly. She pressed the gun into his hand then clasped it with both of hers, and squeezed the Doctor’s hand tightly with the last of her strength.

“Take care of the squish-face, if you can find him. Help that bald guy, and the weird guy, and Christine. If you can get everyone out, get them all out,” Jester said quickly, struggling to get everything out in time.

Then she used her two hands to turn the gun around in the doctor’s hand. She wrapped his finger around the trigger and laced her own finger over it, then pulled the business end of Caster to her forehead.

“I guess I will be able to sleep now,” Jester whispered, cracking her wide grin. “Go on. I will pull too, so you don’t have to do it alone. The Traveler will take me, and if he wants to, he will put me back. …thank you, Doctor. You took good care of me.”

The Doctor’s eyes bore holes into Jester’s remaining pink one.

Then they both pulled the trigger.

Jester's DEAD! Caster will go to Doctor McNinja.

 

[Dr. McNinja]

Dr. McNinja threw up onto the grass. His vomit glistened in the light of morning. Disdainfully, Doc kicked dirt over the stuff with his foot.

Dr. McNinja was a murderer. He was an assassin. He’d spent years killing a sizable number of people for money, some for sport, and then for justice. If you counted sentient monsters, that sum easily quadrupled. As a killer and as a surgeon, he’d seen more gore than anyone could imagine - hell, he had been elbow-deep more gore than anyone could imagine. Dr. McNinja was a proficient neck-snapper, tendon-slicer, and shanked enough men to construct a small shack out of stab wounds.

He’d never killed a friend before.

Dr. McNinja stooped over and gently picked up the mangled corpse of Jester. It was nice to see her lucid for a moment. Her face was riddled with holes and electrical burns - half her face was practically missing. Paradoxically enough, however, the young woman seemed to be at peace.

Doc would take the time to deal with her body. It was the least she deserved.

Dr. McNinja slung Jester’s body over his shoulder and started climbing a nearby tree. It was easy, even with his many burns and Jester’s added weight. In uncharacteristically solemn silence, Doc sat her on a sturdy tree branch. Next, he covered her in as many leaves and branches as he could. He examined his work before taking one of Jester’s belt buckles, along with her gear - she wouldn’t need it.

Doc hopped back down, wincing as his skin cried for mercy. He took his belt buckle and started scratching into the trunk of the tree.

A treasure awaits you. Shake this tree as hard as you can and you shall receive it.

Doc glanced up at where Jester’s body would be, directly above this sign. He didn’t have time to bury her in a grave, but if he gleaned anything from this shithead, it was that she was an adorable, if morbid, little prankster.

While he was down, he decided to check his ninja mask. Miraculously, still unscathed. Made sense, though. The McNinja masks were designed to be durable enough to survive any damage. Still, the skin underneath wasn’t doing as well. He gingerly touched his face, wincing as his cheeks screamed bloody murder. But he couldn’t treat it, not now, not on camera. No face reveals today… until someone killed him.

That seemed more likely now.

No time for that. As he marched onward, Doc reached behind him and pulled out his brand-new weapon. It… sure was a weapon.

Ninjas in Doc’s world had, for generations, rejected firearms as primary weapons. Guns are loud, prone to malfunction… and most importantly, for cowards. His old protege from his homeworld used to carry two revolvers, but honestly, Doc never really minded. Kid was a bad-ass. Doc kept some shotguns around his office to deal with zombies (everybody knows that shotguns are the best weapons against zombies) and Judy had that rocket launcher-

Okay so maybe Doc wasn’t as against guns as he thought he was.

Still, there was one other element that bothered Doc pretty thoroughly. He checked the chamber of his new pistol. The bullet inside steamed with mystical energy, almost glowing with arcane potential.

“Ugh,” Doc grumbled, “I hate magic.”

Dr. McNinja stowed the pistol. Beggars can’t be choosers, not out here. His only other weapon was the honey-drizzled croissant in his bag and his charred fists. Now he had to hunt down Shikiria. Shame. She seemed nice enough.

Doc growled. He shouldn’t have given her the other croissant.

“Well, it is what it is,” Doc sighed. He mindlessly poured one of Jester’s water bottles over his face, trying to cool down what was left of his skin.

This battlefield was starting to get pretty hostile. But now Doc was on mission.

”Take care of the squish-face…”

Doc crossed his arms and observed the horizon.

“Now where the hell is that little goblin child?”