Dante's Abyss 2k22: Registrations (IC)

Please have read - https://multerra.zulenka.com/index.php?pages/DA22-rules/#Joining (and all the other Rules for that matter) - before posting here

To quote the pertinent pieces of information:

Step 1 – Write a roleplay in which your character heads to a registration booth at a Syntech location on their World. There they will find queues for several identical booths. Once at the front of the line, your character will be asked to provide their name and demonstrate ‘what they bring to the competition’ for the cameras. After this, they will provided with a form and ushered into another line where they’ll wait to enter a teleportation room. They will then be teleported to Dante’s Comet, and they will arrive in the Lobby of the Preshow Complex.

Step 2 – You, the writer, will fill out the below information and send it to the host. These forms will be posted publicly for the host and other contestants. If you are using your account character, this will probably be easy to do by pulling from your roster, but if you're using another character, you may have to do a little more with this form.

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All around the Crossroads, tents, stations, and little micro-communities have popped up, fully staffed by individuals who work for an enterprise named 'Syntech' (also appears occasionally as 'Syntech Corp, Syntech Corporation, SynTex, and Syntech Incorporated, Ltd). Many of these stations are also staffed by locals, and for the most part, no one seems to think much different of these places materializing almost overnight. Even in the more violent portions of the Crossroads, those in power have allowed these places to continue to exist, whether out of fear of Syntech or some other reason.

Nevertheless, the people at these stations are constantly busy signing up people to attend the 'Dante's Abyss Convention', a massive 'con' (word used unironically, I swear) located on a meteor/comet that travels through the Crossroads every season. Host to a melting pot of individuals from both the past, present, and tomorrow, the DAC22 (named for the serial code of the preshow facility - '22') has as its centerpiece the iconic event itself, Dante's Abyss, which pits a group of elite warriors in a race against time, the elements, unknown forces, and themselves.

The Syntech people recommend that people who plan to register for the event 'take the necessary precautions' as death is highly probable and Syntech is not liable for any damages incurred by your person, mind, or soul while you are on Syntech properties.

Preshow threads will go live either tonight or early tomorrow morning ... but probably tonight.

Click to expand...

"Do it!"

The streets of Arcadia were packed at this hour, the milling masses of people hurrying about on their daily errands. With the sun high in the sky, and most folks more concerned with grabbing a quick bite to eat than on what's around them, no one noticed the three children peeking around the corner of a building to gawk at the Syntech Pavilion which had just been erected.

"What? Are you chicken?" Jimmy continued, a shaky smile on his face. "Come on, Slurt! This is your chance!"

The boy he was addressing tried his best to hide his shaking knees. Slurt Crumbucket was a very young Goblin lad, and seemed even younger for his life on the streets of Arcadia, where one never knew when they'd get another meal. Or if it would be their last. Torn and ratty clothing adorned his scrawny body, and dirt layered upon dirt covered his green skin. Jimmy was another orphan boy, though as the oldest of the trio, he tended to assume charge of their antics. A young human, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, Jimmy stood nearly a full head taller than his companion.

Jawsh, the final member of their group, was the youngest of them, though he already stood taller than Slurt. An Orc, he would get even taller and stronger before he finished growing, and it was evident in even his young build. He rarely spoke, and in this instance he merely nodded along with Jimmy's goading.

"B-but..." Slurt started to protest, eyes moving to and fro as he sought some excuse. Sure, he had said that Dante's Abyss looked easy, but he had never thought he'd actually be pushed into joining it! An idea came to him, and he quickly stifled a grin of relief, masking it with a faux sigh of disappointment.

"Dey pwobwy onwy wet gwown-ups in!"

With a firm hand, Jimmy pushed the reluctant goblin child forward and replied, "Well, you'll never know if you don't try! Don't be a wuss! Just go over there!"

With his escape routes completely cut off in only a few words, Slurt slowly, despairingly, moved towards the kiosk. With any luck, he was right. But, as he soon found out, Syntech didn't have an age limit, and with the eyes of his companions burning a hole in his back, Slurt found himself as the newest contestant in the system-renowned game-show known as Dante's Abyss.

A crisp morning greeted Shinku as he stepped out of the streets of Arcadia. Thin, silky clouds decorated the pale blue sky along with the city’s usual dose of dragons and airships. He could see the streets already filled with its robust citizens as if the chaos of the unmaking never happened.

What quickly caught the assassin’s attention however, was a long queue of people lined just a few yards away from across the street.

“That line’s fer Dante’s Abyss,” the voice of Jack suddenly came up, with the pirate appearing from behind.

Shinku kept his silence, suddenly recalling the same event that was connected to Jak. The long-eared warrior appeared to be a finalist of the said event, if the assassin of shadows recalled it correctly.

Jak still owed him some important information but it had been quite a long time since the assassin of shadows heard from him. With that in mind, an idea to join the event formed in his thought.

“Say ‘ya want me’self te’ signup and earn us some booty?,” the pirate continued his hand draping across Shinku’s shoulder.

“No, I’ll sign up myself,” Shinku responded nonchalantly, breaking from the pirate’s half embrace before marching towards the queue.

“What? Ye’ keepin’ all the fun fer yerself!,” Jack protested as he kept up with his companion’s pace.

“I’ll give you the reward if I win. I just need to look for someone who might be joining,” the assassin of shadows offered, his face intently locked at the registration queue.

“Arrrggg. Looks like no stoppin’ ye then. Don’t forget me’ booty or I be cleavin’ ya to the brisket!” Jack grunted, still keeping a close distance with Shinku.

“Of course I don’t take back on my word. I did give you all the treasures from the last time right?,” the assassin of shadows retorted.

“Aye! Of course! Lemme just keep ye’ company till they take ye’ to the contest,” Jack insisted, which the assassin of shadows simply brushed off.

A couple of hours passed, with Shinku having to endure a plethora of stories from the pirate. Finally, his turn came facing a grumpy old man.

“Name,” the old man greeted in a cold, husky tone.

“Trevor,” Shinku answered promptly, briefly eyeing the pirate who he felt to be almost brewing a protest. His stare was enough however for the pirate to remain silent.

“Does that come with a surname?,” the old man continued, his voice having a few hints of impatience, his hand tightly gripped on a pen he used to write on a form.

“O’Skully,” the assassin of shadows replied, almost causing the pirate to burst into laughter.

“Is that a sword with you? Give me that!,” the old man demanded pointing at the weapon on the applicant’s waist. Shinku obediently complied, letting the old man examine it closely.

“You can’t bring that with you. How about that necklace!” Spouting in the same tone as his previous command, the old man pointed at Reez’s amulet next. The old man quickly pulled out what seemed like a miniature telescope which he used to examine the labradorite pendant.

“That’s just a gift from…”

“Ok you can bring that in. Now show me those earrings,” the old man interrupted before Shinku could even finish his response. This time, the interviewer demanded the earrings that Birke gifted him before they parted. Similarly, the old man appraised the earrings with his tool before looking back at the applicant.

“You can bring that too. Here, fill this up and join the others in that room. Next!” The old man finally returned all Shinku’s belongings before pointing him at another line that led to a peculiar room.

“Here, a look after this for now. I’ll be back after this…contest,” Shinku instructed before handing Jack his sword.

“Aye! I be lookin’ after this fer ye!,” the pirate cheerfully obliged, as he sent the assassin of shadows off.

Shinku walked towards the teleportation room, his mind fixed at the ecowarrior.

"Fair winds matey!," Jack yelled in his last attempt to catch Shinku's attention. The assassin of shadows simply waved his hand in acknowledgement, refusing to look back at the stubborn pirate.

‘How about the stone lad?,’ unexpectedly, Orochi’s voice suddenly cut off at Shinku’s contemplation.

‘We just got the first one and we don’t have a clue where the others are yet. I’ll attend to that after this. For now, I have something else to do. Besides, I also want that power so don't worry. I'll definitely see you through it.’

‘Ah right of course. I’ll talk to you after that, then.’ Surprisingly, Orochi did not insist on anything. Instead, he peacefully left the assassin of shadows, with his voice gradually fading away.

Though suspicious, Shinku felt a bit of relief, not having to suffer another long conversation with the shadow demon. He kept on with the queue until it was finally his turn to enter the portal.

The hunter had been traveling in darkness for seemingly an eternity. Thus, it was quite a surprise when all of a sudden a faint light glimmered from up ahead, right where a break in the tunnel seemed to be.

Gascoigne slowed his footsteps, furrowing his brow as he arrived at the entrance to yet another grotto within Inverxe’s vast network of underground caverns. And there, sitting right in the middle of the small cave, was a gas street lamp. It had absolutely no business being there, but indeed it was— patiently infusing the mist drifting about the chamber with a phantom glow, the hooded shape of what appeared to be a rather industrious tent cutting a clean silhouette through the dark.

A pair of figures flitted about in the light of the street lamp. Their shapes were indistinct, fuzzy, but Gascoigne did not recognize the prowling, lurching pace of a beast. Rather, the two were walking upright with measured, even footsteps… simply going about their business, it seemed, though what business that could possibly be, the hunter could not say.

Hesitant to approach, Gascoigne kept to the shadows at the cavern’s mouth. He had just abandoned his last two companions due to his current condition. Naturally, he was not so eager to engage.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to backtrack and find another path through the tunnels. One of the distant figures abruptly spotted him, the light of their headlamp swiveling in his direction, the bright glare nearly blinding him.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST JARED, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!!!!!!!”

“W-what? Where?!” Another dazzlingly bright beam of light cut across the walls of the cavern, casting directly into Gascoigne’s face.

He sneered reflexively against the brilliant glare, attempting to shield his face from view with one arm. Unfortunately for him, the lamp’s owner—Jared, apparently—kept their light fixed directly on his face, examining him in the almost daylight levels of brightness currently blanketing the cavern.

A faint sigh of disappointment met Gascoigne’s ears. “Damn, you had me all riled up. It’s just a fuckin’ guy, Amanda.”

Both lights lowered from his face, dimming to a more acceptable level. Before Gascoigne could back up to tuck his (purely metaphorical) tail between his legs and set off in the other direction, the woman who he’d originally given a fright began talking some more. Her voice was so loud as to be clear as day, even at a distance.

“Well excuuuuse me for wanting a little excitement! We’ve been hanging out in this freaky CAVE for who knows how long, freezing our BUTTS off, and I’ve yet to see any of the monsters this Ice-hell Deathmoon is known for. And what’s more, not a single contestant has tried to sign up! We should just cut our losses here, try again closer to one of the settlements. We just can’t WORK in these conditions! I mean, all we’ve got is this, this murder hobo!”

Almost in unison, the light of the headlamps gravitated back to Gascoigne’s face.

“Huh,” said Jared. “Yeah, I think you’re right. On the other hand, murder hobos are pretty on-brand for the Abyss, if a little… bog-standard...”

It was at this point that Gascoigne’s patience ran out.

“‘Bog-standard,’ eh? That’s a new one,” the tall hunter chuckled— a light-hearted seeming laugh it was, though the man’s voice rasped in all the wrong ways. Shouldering his axe, Gascoigne began to lope leisurely forward… circling a little, like a wolfish prowl. “Though I can tell when I’ve been insulted well enough...”

The man called Jared straightened, obviously sensing something amiss here. In this raggedy tramp’s voice was a strange note of intent that frightened him. He had, to tell the truth, never known another human to speak in such a tone before. He did not know just what sort of intent it was, but something deep inside his brain perked up its ears and began to pay attention, suddenly watchful where it hadn’t been before.

Also, the man approaching them was covered in blood and wielding a freaking enormous axe. We’re talkin’ colossal. The thing’s wicked edge, which glinted quite impressively even from afar, shone far more spectacularly when up close and personal. In fact, it perfectly mirrored the lop-sided grin that had begun to slowly creep across the old hunter’s face.

Gascoigne stopped a short distance away, towering over the pair. After all, why would he need to move any closer? They were easily within reach with one stride of the man’s long legs.

Hoooo boy. Jared gulped, a cold chill sweeping over him from head to foot and setting his teeth on edge. Do I hear… boss music? And good God, man, what is that smell?

“Oh, he didn’t mean it that way,” Amanda cut in, apparently oblivious to the danger they were in. Then again, most androids were just like that. “Bog-standard just means… average. You know. Normal!”

Jared turned to gape at her. He could not believe that Amanda was lying to this… this giant, murderous version of Father Christmas! What the shit? But lo and behold, when he turned to observe the man’s reaction, he actually seemed to be buying it.

“Right,” Gascoigne nodded, seeming to accept this information readily enough. “That’s what I thought.”

Holy shit! Jared could hardly suppress his sigh of relief. Good thing this guy wasn’t all that perceptive—

SCHWING! The axe swung down from the silver-haired hunter’s shoulder in a flash, embedding itself in the little patch of ice squarely between Jared’s snow boots. It would have seemed that the blindfolded man had merely misjudged his swing, but Jared knew different. Though a collection of tattered, blood-soaked rags concealed Gascoigne’s eyes from view, the message was clear.

“Anyway,” said Amanda, breezing right past that little… incident. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in registering to participate in Dante’s Abyss, would you? It’s sure to be a special one this year!”

A slight tilt of his head was the only indication that Gascoigne had heard her, his attention still entirely fixed on her human coworker.

Said human coworker was kind of surprised, really. It was hard for most ordinary folks to ignore Amanda, after all: she was manufactured to be beautiful, with unnaturally bright blue eyes, warm brown skin and long, platinum blonde hair. To look at her was almost physically arresting, not to mention that her deceptively slender frame was capable of exerting, like, a quadrillion joules of crushing force. But no, the guy seemed intent on thoroughly terrifying Jared. Go figure.

Finally, Gascoigne’s attention slid away from him, fixing on the android woman. Amanda stared placidly back at him, calmly awaiting his answer.

The hunter licked his lips, looking much like a chained hound eyeing his next meal.

“Dante’s… Abyss?” Gascoigne repeated, tasting the words on his tongue.

“That’s right!” Amanda grinned, a perfect smile with perfectly straight, bleached-white teeth. The effect was evidently lost on Gascoigne, who showed no outward reaction. “Dante’s Abyss, the premier competition in the Crossroads! Last year was the ‘Conquest’ version of the event, with two armies pitted against a horde of the Unmade… and each other. Nasty beasties, those Unmade—”

If anything, the strange man’s focus narrowed further. Though his stance did not change, his head and shoulders inched forward as he paid rapt attention to the android’s spiel, the wide brim of his hat casting eerie shadows over his scarred face. “Ah… I see. So it’s a hunt you speak of.”

Amanda practically bloomed under the attention; oho, she had his number now. “Yes! A hunt! All organized by our event’s benefactor. You’ll have to hunt down and slaughter the competition, all the while gathering a few necessary components. But, well, yes. Hunting is definitely involved. And you’ll receive such a fine reward, too!”

The hunter seemed to think on this a moment, really mulling it over.

“The competition?”

It was at this moment that Jared decided to speak up. “U-uh, well, y’see,” he cut in, posture wilting as the hunter’s attention turned to him. “There are other… hunters in the event. But it’s cooperative, too, kind of? Like, some might try to kill you, sure. But others will be happy to band up and take on the challenges together. Pretty standard stuff, you know how it is.”

Jared abruptly realized that this guy in all likelihood did not, in fact, ‘know how it was.’ Still, he was intent on making the sale, so to speak, and the guy was nodding along, so…

“All you have to do is state your name and demonstrate what you bring to the competition! All on camera, of course,” Amanda finished for him, spreading her arms wide. She continued hastily at the look of puzzlement that passed over Gascoigne’s face, realizing that he was perhaps more technologically inept than she had initially anticipated: “...No big, we’ll handle it for you. I think we’re pretty much done explaining, though, so… name and demonstration?”

Slowly, Gascoigne shifted his stance, bending down to lift his axe from where it was wedged firmly in the ice, deep cracks surrounding it. It broke free with a resounding crack! as the man straightened back to his full height, peering down at the pair from beneath the brim of his hat.

“...Well, then. The name’s Gascoigne. Father Gascoigne, if that title means anything in this wretched realm,” the hunter murmured, flashing a grin full of an alarming amount of teeth, slick and gleaming in the dim glow of the gas lamp. He hefted his axe over his shoulder with apparent ease, the silvered edge glinting like a sliver of moonlight. “... Forgive me, I am not accustomed to boasting… but trust in my word. I’ll cut down any beast before me… And if that fails, well, I’m sure to catch some on the back-swing! Ha ha haa!”

The laughter that followed was, quite honestly, sickening. Once the forms had been filled out (mostly for the good hunter, as he couldn’t really read the terms) and the beastly man ushered to the waiting teleporter, Jared and Amanda stood in a properly intimidated silence.

“Oh my god,” whispered Jared, unable to hide his horrified stare. “Oh, Jesus. He’s perfect, Amanda. He’s going to kill so many people.”

His partner nodded, solemn. “Completely off his rocker, that one.”

“And you got it all on camera, right?”

Amanda smiled, lightly tapping beside her eye. The lenses within the mechanized optic whirred in answer, narrowing down to a fine point.

“Oh, yes.”

Chara Dreemurr stepped to the front of the line. the booth to Erde Nona was crowded, but she knew she didn't have time to waste. she simply had to get in there, quickly.

"hey! There's a line-" a larger man yelled, before Chara looked up to him, fixating on him with cold eyes. The dark-skinned islander was a mass of muscle, and Chara was quick to notice a knife of decidedly ancient design strapped to his hip. He Stood above her, tall enough that she could hardly see his buzz cut after craning her neck.

Apparently, something he saw made him nervous, as she stepped forward, just as emphatically as before, right in time for him to step back.

Another one of those standing in line went to talk to the man, who for his part whispered something in his ear, before clearing his throat. "Mmm-mm!" He said, looking to everyone else in the room. "That's Chara Dreemurr. She fought in the siege of Opealon. yeah, that bit where we saw a bunch of Unmade get turned into little fish flakes? That's all her. Give her room if you wanna keep things simple!" The Islander cried.

Chara turned to him with a slightly confused expression, as she tried to process something. that man wasn't just thinking about that, something told her, a voice that processed far faster and weighed odds. He'd seen something. Her mind desperately tried to process what, but something else kept distracting it, like a record skipping, as she turned to the front of the line. She was forgetting her goal. She needed to enter Dante's abyss. She needed to enter Dante's abyss. She should have gotten home by now. She needed to enter Dante's abyss.

"Well, you look a little tired doll. Black rings around the eyes?"

"Chara Dreemurr. I'm here to enter." Chara muttered, "Dante's Abyss."

"And what can you do?!"

show what you can do.

An array of magic shot out from her, creating an ecclectic arrangement. Chara caused the whole tent to glow as an array of knives appeared behind her, the whole place glowing with magical power.

"Demon... strate?" she muttered, slower than she wanted. she needed to get into Dante's abyss, and every second wasted was intolerable.

"Oh, no hon, that's fine. We let the Budokai deal with all that. I'm Gertrude by the way, pleased to meet ya."

Chara blinked, before giving a slow nod, filling out every form with precision and speed. "May I... go?" She asked, after a moment.

"Sure hon. Teleportation line's right over there. And do get a nap before the game at least, sweetie, you look like you ain't slept in weeks."

"I see." Was all the Dreemurr gave in response.

Gertrude gave a happy smile, before looking over to the cameraman as the former Judge walked away, "You think it's some sort of demonic hypnosis, or is she just on something new the kids these days found."

"Scruffy thinks demonic possession. Scruffy's seen a lot of drug users come in and out of Dante's abyss, and scruffy thinks if she was one of them, she'd be a lot better at handling her product."

Gertrude just gave a shrug. "We're not paid to investigate either way, so that's the boss's problem... you're not still rolling are you?"

"Scruffy thinks you should have asked that a lot earlier." the Janitor replied. It was the last thing Chara heard before the woosh of The teleporter brought her from Arcadia's streets into the Comet's inner facilities.

Anders approached the registration booths with his back straight and his head held proudly. He was a Herald of the True Heir after all, why would he present himself in any other manner? He chose to wear the bounty on his head as if it were a badge of honor. The dogs of Arcadia had yet to bring him to their perverted sense of justice, and he was prepared to make that everyone else's problem.

“Greetings,” He said, approaching the attendant, “I’m here to participate in the Abyss.”

“Excellent,” The young, sharply dressed man responded, “Just fill out these forms and then I’ll have you follow me to the interview room.”

Forms upon forms of legal documentation were shoved in front of Anders. With an exasperated sigh he began to read through the mountain of legelase. They were mostly waivers and consent forms, absolving Syntech from any sort of liability in the very likely case of personal harm and/or death by various means. Once Anders had read through every last piece of documentation (an exhausting process that the attendant grew visibly impatient during), he followed the man behind the registration booth. Almost instantly several cameras were upon him, each of them trying immortalize every last inch of Anders’s body.

“So, here we are with our latest contestant in the Abyss, Anders Nazret!” The attendant paused for dramatic effect before asking, “So, Anders, what do you bring to set you apart from this year’s competition?”

“I am a swordmage from the Golden Era of Arcadia, my proficiency in combat and magecraft far outstrips that of any challenger the Crossroads could deliver,” He explained, “So in a word? Superiority. My superiority sets me apart from these rank-and-file amateurs.”

“Oh ho, the confidence on this one is unwavering,” The attendant continued, “It says here Anders that you’re wanted for bank robbery and assault of Arcadian officials, most of the criminals I know wouldn’t be too keen showing their face on interplanetary television, what do you have to say to the bounty hunters watching at home?”

Anders smirked at this, “Please, as if I’d waste the breath.”

“Confidence, arrogance, Anders you’re just the kind of guy that the viewers love, do you have anything to say to your future fans?”

“Arcadia has fallen from glory and its monarch is an imposter. The true heir, Eulalia, was murdered centuries ago and subsequently erased from history. Tyree VI is a false monarch and an insult to the glory that was once Arcadia. He is a weak and ineffectual king, installed by parasites that do nothing more than bleed Arcadia dry from the shadows. It is disgusting. The only remedy for this affliction is the complete destruction of Arcadia and the death of the False King. From its ashes a new civilization will emerge, free from the sins of its predecessor. I intend to make this a reality. Denizens of the Crossroads, I call upon you to join me in bringing Arcadia to justice, in honor of the True Heir”

“Well, folks, you’ve heard it here, fight the power and all that,” The attendant said, “Thank you for your participation Anders, and good luck! Now a word from our sponsors.”

Without further discussion Anders entered the teleportation chamber and was whisked away in a puff of ionized smoke.

"Hey, hey, by the way, did ya hear the big news, wolfy?"

It was much later, when Aster had finally been coerced into getting properly ready for the day and heading out, that Mako popped that question on him.

"I hear a lot of news, Mako. Some of it's big, most of it isn't." The wolf didn't even look up from her phone as she trudged along beside the energetically bouncing woman beside her. "Gonna need you to be more specific."

"You're no fun!" Mako whined, putting on an overly exaggerated pout. But it only held her down for a second before she plowed right on ahead. "It's that special time of year again when the big name releases its fancy death tournament!"

This finally drew Aster's face up, making her blink once in surprise. "No shit. Time for Dante's Abyss again already?"

"Yep yep!" Mako chimed, with a big ol' grin. "You gonna take time off to watch it all from start to finish again?"

"Maybe I will." Aster grinned with a faint chuckle. "Or maybe I'll actually join this time."

"Oooh. I don't know about that. Soft thing like you would just get torn to pieces in a place like that!"

"Say what?" Aster put on an offended air, her face twisting into an upset frown. "I could totally hold my own in some crazy wacked out death tournament! Wolves are super dangerous, you know!"

"Oh, sure sure, wolves are real dangerous. But wolves are also pack animals, and you..." And Mako skipped ahead, turning around to plant one fingertip on Aster's nose. "...would be all alone with no pack to speak of, you dork."

Aster growled and waved a hand to brush his friend's hand off, hunching up her shoulders and marching resolutely forward. "There's a reason the phrase lone wolf exists, you know," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"Yeah. It exists for bad reasons when a wolf is outcast from their pack or just doesn't have one for whatever reason." Mako raised her arms overhead in a stretch before folding them behind her head. "And you're nowhere near rugged and badass enough to be the other kind of lone wolf."

"Now you're just makin' fun of me!" Aster whined. She could feel her face turning red under her fur, and was thankful for the snowy covering that hid her visible embarrassment. "You're just tryin' to get me all riled up, I know it."

"C'mon, now, would I really do that?" Mako's words were dripping with an ill-suppressed laugh.

"Yes. Yes you would!" Aster snapped. "And it worked. Screw the risks, I'm gonna do it. I'm joining this year."

"Oooh...." Mako's mirth vanished in an instant. "Are you, uh...sure? It's a death tournament and all."

"Yeah, yeah...but they've gotta have something or other kicking around. Never seen anyone who participated in it and die not turn up again somewhere, somehow." Aster turned her attention to her phone again. "So there's probably some weird science-magic whatsits they got going on. Something something....death insurance. Patch you up from the brink and bring you back." She was rapidly scrolling through things on her phone as she rambled. "Syntech has its hands in so much shit, it isn't even that tough to imagine that kinda stuff."

"Okay, okay, fine, so you're not worried about the whole death part." Mako relented with a sigh. "But aren't you the least bit concerned about just embarrassing yourself? Most of the folks that turn up to these things are kinda like...trained, aren't they? Or they have some kinda powers and stuff."

"Most of the time, yeah."

"Soooo....you're not worried about that? They're gonna run circles around you!"

Aster frowned, looking up and at Mako directly. "You know, usually, friends are supposed to have confidence and encourage you, not tell you how much of a clown you're gonna be."

"Yeah, well, friends are also supposed to look out for your well-being, you dork!" Mako grabbed Aster by the shoulders and yanked her in close and off her feet, into a positively bone-crushing hug. "And I'm worried about watching you getting beat up in this crazy death tournament!"

"Ack!" Aster flailed and struggled in the embrace, wrenching one arm free to plant her hand against the side of Mako's face and push, trying to free herself from the sudden onslaught of death-by-affection. "C'mon, I'll be—hrgch—I'll be fine!" And she finally struggled and wiggled free, dropping down to the ground in a heap. "I'm a wolf. Most of those other chumps are probably gonna be just human. I'll be fine."

"I'm going to laugh at you once you get back when it turns out you were wrong."

"Whatever."

It was the work of only a few hours to inform everyone she knew of her decision to join Dante's Abyss this year, and then track down one of their many registration booths. They were all over the place, so really it was just a matter of throwing a dart at the map and seeing which one was closest. Then, after making her way over, she now stood in line eagerly waiting her turn for the sign-up.

The line was a long one, and it took what felt like hours (but was actually only about 30 minutes) for her to finally get her chance.

"Here to sign up for Dante's Abyss, little lady?" was the greeting she received from one of those manning the booth.

"Nah, I'm here to gawk and swoon over all the big, strapping tough guys and gals who are joining." Aster snorted, with an amused grin. "Yeah, I'm here to sign up."

"Aaaaalright then, just gonna need you to fill out a couple forms here..." And the attendant leaned down below the desk surface, returning with a surprisingly hefty stack of papers. "Just give these a look over and sign wherever you see the big 'SIGN HERE' X marks the spot."

"Yeah, yeah...I know this song and dance...." the wolf-girl grumbled, and proceeded to pore over the piles and reams of paperwork, more skimming through it than properly reading it due to the length. Luckily, in several places there was a plain-fucking-English summary under the mounds of legalese for the less than lawerly-knowledge empowered sorts out there, for which she was grateful.

"Fucking finally..." And after signing everything, she nodded and shoved it back over the table. "There. What next?"

"Alright, just head on over yonder there and follow the instructions of the crew, and we'll get you sent off to the comet."

And over yonder Aster went, to find the waiting crew in question. "Name?" one of them asked her, with a clear lack of real interest.

"Aster."

"That come with a surname, by chance?"

"Nope."

"Greeeaaat. Now then, why don't you just put on a little show for the cameras, and tell us just what you bring to the competition that sets you apart from the rest?"

Aster turned toward the cameras in question, staring directly into the lens for a long moment without speaking. Then, she grinned. "Well for starters," she finally spoke up, lifting a hand to run her fingers through her hair. "My good looks." And then her grin faded. "And more seriously, I bring a little something...." And she flexed her fingers, her clawed nails gleaming in the light. "...non-human and fierce to the table."

"Suuuper." And the crewman who had spoken before just waved her over toward another section. "Teleporter's over there, miss Aster. Welcome to Dante's Comet."

“Hard to believe that DA is back already.” Sigmund laughed to himself as he made his way towards the sign-up tent, flanked by his retainers. “It feels like I was in last year’s game just yesterday.”

“Sigmund you were in the Abyss two years ago.” His right-hand woman, Cordie, interjected, her brow furrowing in slight worry.

“Huh? I missed one?” The scion said, suddenly distraught. “Who won?”

“King Gilgamesh.”

“Ooooh nooo.” He groaned, looking and sounding as if he had been slugged in the stomach as he fell to his knees, devastated. “Oh Gods, I’m a terrible subject. Yorn!”

The high priest’s other bodyguard perked up at the mention of his name.

“Yorn, I need you to cut my head off. It’s the only way to redeem me.” Sigmund said, tensely trying to keep himself from wailing out the demand.

“No.” The massive man grumbled. The high priest remained knelt on the ground for a long moment as his two disciples watched him patiently. Finally, he gave a nod and rose to uis feet.

“Ok, perhaps I was too quick there. I’ll make it up to my king by winning Dante’s Abyss in his name!” The cultist said triumphantly. Cordie gave him a small round of applause as they resumed the walk to the sign-ups.

“Yay, victory!” She said cheerfully. “Could you dedicate something to me too? Just a kill or someone driven mad is fine.”

“I’ll definitely try.” He agreed before turning to Yorn. “Would you like anything?”

The warrior of few words simply shrugged.

“Ok, that’s fine.” Sigmund nodded. Soon enough, the trio had reached the sign-ups, the crowd parting as all eyes fell upon the former fourth-place competitor. With a grin, he passed the manic codex over to Cordie, far too worried of his eldritch artefact getting lost in the coat room to give it over to Syntech staff. “Take good care of it.”

“With my life.” She said, cradling the tome like a baby. With that, Sigmund stepped forward to get into line, only for the crowd to part for him expectantly. He fidgeted for a moment, waiting for the line to reform so he could wait for his turn, but it didn’t. After a long stalemate, the scion gave a little nod and a few waves of gratitude as he went to the front of the line and went inside.

“Hello! I’m here to sign up for the horrible death fiesta!” The high priest said happily as he greeted the Syntech staff member.

“Welcome… sir.” Said the droning, nasally voice of the vacant-eyed employee. “What… is your name.”

“Sigmund Vrell.”

“Of course… sir.” The strange man said, taking a long, sucking breath. “And… what do you… bring to the competition… sir?”

“I’m here to cause unapologetic madness and chaos.” The scion said happily as he turned to the cameras and gave a big grin and thumbs-up. “Praise Gal’skap everyone!”

“Fantastic… sir.” The unphased man sighed. “Go on… through.”

With an enthusiastic hop onto the teleporter pad, Sigmund was off towards another utterly insane adventure.

Lilith is LIVE

The dark, gloomy canvas flickered to life. First, only formless gray embers. Then, a spark of burning scarlet flames. Faint sunlight seeped in, giving shape to the shadows.

"Hmhmhm~ Welcome, everyone." Her sultry voice caressed the swarm of faceless listeners. "More of you showed up than I expected. Still, that's not a whole lot of people. But that's sure to change soon." Hungry fangs flashed under her smile.

Lilith pranced out of the shade, stretching her sturdy limbs. She held a high-end generic-looking phone in one hand, while the device capturing her every move floated a few feet away.

"Oooohh~ Yeah… Guards must be taking a day off." Even within the diverse melting pot of Arcadian denizens, she stuck out like a fractured bone. As for today, a local market would have to suffer her presence. As anyone might expect, posters and flyers were strewn up across the odds and ends of the kingdom. But, she— and some man— took the center of attention, their faces plastered on the most obvious of walls and signposts.

"Aww, don't we look great together. Not as great as me and my dearest boss, of course~ Anders, eh? I feel like I should know that guy." Lilith swiveled around from her high vantage point, seeing an identical tent off in the distance, pretty much a one-to-one copy of the ones she'd seen cropping up everywhere.

"Hey is that him over there?" She stood on her tiptoes. "HEY ANDERS! HEY OVER HERE! HELLO?!" she hollered, shredding any illusion of covertness she might've had. If the townsfolk became wary of her, she didn't notice. After strolling through the shops, oblivious to her surroundings, Lilith stopped suddenly.

"Guess he's busy. Oh! I forgot to ask, how do you guys like my outfit?" Cue sexy pose as the camera comes around full circle. From top to bottom she wore black silk. On her chest, two bands that crossed in an X, held together in the center by a silvery ring of thorns. Draped over her lower half was a waistcloth, flowing down past her knees and accentuating her hips. Completely bare underneath. And finally a standard pair of combat boots.

"It's just too bad none of you will ever have this. Anyways, what's up with this event? Like why's there so many people going? Are people really this suicidal? Honestly… I can believe it."

The villainous woman sauntered to the nearest Syntech booth, giving away express deliveries to death rather than selling any weird-looking food, magical tools, or bargain bin weapons.

"Maaaaaan, this is gonna take foreverrrrr," bemoaned Lilith, impatiently glaring at the stream of messages on her phone. If only there was a way to make this line speed up. Maybe…

As gentle as the crass lady could, she tapped the shoulder of the scrawny, thin haired man ahead of her. "Ahem, would you mind moving out of the way— Oh. That was easy." They were very eager to flee, positively screaming from the sheer excitement.

She repeated the process, each polite request to relinquish their spot briefer than the last. Eventually, as she pushed forward, the entire crowd backed off. "What's the matter?" she questioned their defensive postures. "I haven't even started killing anyone yet."

Now only a swordsman remained at the front, their breath ragged and hurried. They desperately scrawled into the last few pages in the stack, engraving the ink like their life depended on it. Meanwhile, Lilith sang a short melody as she waited.

"Hum hum hummm… hum hum… hum hum hummm… hum hummm~"

"Alright, you can—"

"WREEAAAAAHHH!!" And the man was off, narrowly escaping the horrific monster behind him.

"Fuhuh, he sure finished quick." It's not clear who the socially unaware woman is speaking to. "Let's get this over with, yeah?"

"Right…" The avian staffer clicked his pen and slid over a hefty mountain of legal documents. Were Lilith more knowledgeable, she'd recognize them as Rito, but to her they looked like a giant bluejay. "Name, ma'am?"

"Lilith."

"Okay… if you'd start by signing over here."

She raised her hand and snapped, flicking open her pointer finger. Blood slithered out of the small cut like sentient string, straightening out to form a sharp-tipped pen. It began marking the papers, brushing each one to the side after crossing the 't'.

It would be a mundane process, and a quiet one at that. But, Lilith tasted something delicious in the air.

FFWSH.

With inhuman reflexes, her arm shot out to snatch the head of an ambusher. She hardly examined what they looked like, her palm engulfing their face. Lifting them up, she dug her fingers in and, as easy as a watermelon, crushed their skull.

SPLASH!

Terror erupted in the streets as Lilith popped the bloody meat balloon. She'd grown accustomed to shouting and wailing occupying the background noise. With that interruption to her registration out of the way…

"Oh look! All done. What now?"

"Er… just head to the back." The attendant wiped a stray speck of blood from his cheek.



"Hey, line's not so bad here." A handful of registrants stood amidst the teleporter, not wasting any time getting to the lobby as fast as possible. When it was her turn, a stern looking lady addressed her.

"All your gear, please. Weapons, items, and so on."

"Ah, don't got any. Unless these count?" Lilith gestured to her muscular thighs.

… "You're good."

"You sure you don't need to do a pat down?" she pleaded.

"I said you're good." Rather forcefully, she attached the restricting collar to the unruly contestant.

"Alriiiiight~" With a graceful hop, the corrosive fiend entered Dante's Abyss.

“So, I am Jester,” she began. The blue Tiefling giggled a bit, and looked into the camera. “Are you capturing my good side? I don’t know if that’s my good side. I think this is my good side.”

Jester turned her head to one side, and revealed her right side profile. At first she grinned, then she frowned.

“Well…I don’t know. Maybe this is my good side,” she proclaimed. Her head turned. “I don’t know. Do you think that’s my good side? Maybe this is my good side.”

Her face pivoted to face the camera directly. Pink eyes almost verging on purple pierced the lens, and she gave the most winsome grin in her arsenal. A full set of pearly white teeth with striking canines struck a pose around blue lips, which framed themselves on a squirrel cheeked face full of cheer and freckles.

“Soooo…I am Jester,” she precluded, grinning wider. Laughter teased its way around her eyes and teased its way across her voice, but didn’t quite overtake her. “I like donuts, and I like weasels. I like…”

Her hand found its way to a ribbon tied around a ram’s horn that curled from her skull. It was a pink ribbon, which found its way to her by way of a map from which it was once a tine that tied the parchment together.

“I guess it doesn’t matter what I like, does it?” she asked. Her voice was faintly accented, lilting, and playful. In another universe it may have been faintly EasternEuropean. “Oh! Do you want a donut?!”

The young lady pulled a pastry from a haversack a her hip and extended a hand, fingers unfolding, and offered a pastry dusted in confectioner’s sugar to the cameraman. He hesitated, then on lens a hand appeared which took the proffered donut and retracted.

“Uh, thank you, Miss…”

“Jester,” asserted the Tiefling, giggling.

“Miss Jester. This is an interview, you’re supposed to speak to your talents, and to the show, and why you want to-”

“Oh! Of course! Well, I am very strong. I’m also very smart, and I can draw very well, the Traveller says I can-”

“-And who is the Traveller?”

“Oh, the Traveller? He is just a guy…he’s a very cute guy. Technically…” she trailed off. “Techincally he is a God. Technically. But he’s also very nice, and he’s very cool. He thinks that if I entered this contest that I could spread word about who he is to more people.”

She paused, rubbed at her chin, and then ‘hmmphed’.

“Technically.”

The man attending the camera, still tending to his donut, cut off the film reel.

“You do know that this is a contest of life and death, right, Miss…uh, Lavorre, was it?”

Jester narrowed her eyes a bit and looked at him with those piercing pink irises that saw so much and revealed so little.

“I’m not dumb, you know. I am very smart, and very cool.”

He fumbled his way through a couple more grumbles and offered Jester her paperwork, which she filled out post-haste, and then handed over.

“I’ll see you after I win, Preston,” she proclaimed, before stepping onto a pad several staff members were gesturing her off onto.

“My name’s not-”

Jester evaporated in a series of sparkling lights, and a poof of pink-purple smoke.

"Ugh, look at this line. Unacceptable." Roxanne groans lightly at how crowded it was inside the Syntech tent. "Mr. Higashikata, follow me."

She grabs Josuke's wrist sternly and pulls the delinquent behind her while bypassing the line beside them. His face blushes a bit due to the embarrassment that an attractive mature business attire woman is dragging him to skip a long line. Initially, he wouldn't mind waiting in the line like everyone else, but his new ally, Roxanne Speedwagon, has proven she has no patience to hold these scenarios. Some people standing in line give dirty looks, making Josuke feel bad about being forced into this rude action. They get to the front of the line pushing aside a familiar face that the boy knows.

"Hey, what's the big-" The biker guy notices Roxanne pushing him aside for them to stand at the booth's counter. "Josuke! You're entering this year's Dante's Abyss?"

Josuke realizes Yuya Fungami was at the front before Roxanne moves him over, thanks to her arrogance. "Yo, Yuya, you bet I am, and sorry for taking your place. It wasn't my idea to cut in line."

"No worries, my guy, you got a good excuse having this blonde bombshell at your side." Yuya eyed Roxanne, making her more irritated for being called eye candy by this punk. "So, who's your date?"

"My name is Roxanne Speedwagon, you pig. You should head back in the line where you left your dignity." She spat her exposed thoughts toward Yuya in disgust at being mistaken to be a lover for Josuke.

In response, the biker rebel whistles in amusement at Roxanne's attitude. "What a feisty woman you are, Roxanne. Well, if you are entering, this will be interesting, Josuke. I'll pay attention when I see your face on the TV screen. It's probably best for me to sit back and relax again for this year. Besides, my girls have started to have second thoughts about me joining since they can't bear the thought of seeing my face bloodied."

He points back at the three young pretty rebel girls waiting for him at the tent's entrance. When his eyes met theirs, they waved in glee at the sight of their beloved handsome rebel.

"Anyways, see you around, Josuke!" Yuya waved goodbye at them and stepped out of line to walk toward his lovely fangirls.

"Typical filthy motorheads," Roxanne mutters while Josuke also says goodbye to Yuya.

The two approach the booth counter while a young, bored woman who's ready for her shift to end stands behind on the other side. She's chewing on gum and blows a pink bubble that pops before speaking.

"Name?"

"Josuke Higashikata." He replies, keeping eye contact with the Syntech employee while Roxanne stands beside him.

"What will you bring to the competition, Josuke." She boringly says, turning on a tiny camera attached to the booth that starts recording him.

"My stylish looks and proudly sponsored by the Speedwagon Foundation." He replies, looking into the camera to show a soft smile that reveals his clean white teeth.

"Sign here then." The bored woman slides a legal form and pen to Josuke, but Roxanne snatches the paper to examine. She reads behind her clean prescription glasses, reading each word carefully.

"It says here that there is a death insurance offer when entering," Roxanne speaks up, looking back at the Syntech employee with her cold, calculating eyes.

"Yes, but unfortunately, we have a shortage of revivals, and we're out of stock at this location. If you want the death insurance plan, you will have to visit another tent." She pops a bubble after speaking directly back to Roxanne.

"Very well then." Ms. Speedwagon disappointingly replies, making Josuke even more nervous now entering Dante's Abyss. "Here, a good luck contribution for being sponsored by us."

A miniature capsule device is handed to Josuke by his business partner, wondering if this tiny thing is helpful. "What the hell is this?"

"It's a revival product made by the foundation. A remarkable invention made by our top scientists that will bring you and your stand back to life once upon death." Roxanne thoroughly explains the small, strange item in Josuke's palm.

Awash of relief helps the pompadour teen relax and stay calm to enter the competition. "Thank you, Speedwagon-san."

The CEO slightly smiles back at Josuke's good manners and is getting used to the boy each day. After handing him a helpful product, she sets the form back in front of him to sign. Josuke picks the pen up and clicks it to activate the ink tip, signing his name quickly, not wasting any more time. After making his signature, the Syntech employee grabs the paper and puts it in a filing cabinet. "You may proceed to the teleporter room. Syntech wishes you a greater day."

They leave the booth and enter an empty line leading to the teleporter room. Before Josuke enters the room, Roxanne stops him to say farewell.

"Mr. Higashikata, you will be on your own once they teleport you to the comet. May you come back in one piece, good luck." She says, slightly bowing to respect Josuke's choice to join Dante's Abyss. In return, the boy bows, thanking her so far for what she's done.

Josuke enters the teleporting room and stands over the technological platform, up straight while staring back at Roxanne. He becomes sealed in the room by an operator certified to operate a teleporter. After activating the machine, the Joestar descendant disappears in a flash with no trace left by him.

My shuttle gently coasted into the hangar of the small Syntech branded relay station, the autopilot initiating docking procedures as I stepped into my personal quarters. I opened the door to my armory and surveyed my various outfits and chemical suits. My eyes fell upon one of the more garish extravagancies I allowed myself in the Games. Hundreds of death battles could only be so entertaining without the option for various companies or fans to design outfits for their favorite Legends. Some of them were even purchased by the Syndicate and issued to us, requiring us to wear them for a predetermined period of time. Thankfully they had mostly been tasteful, although I groaned in remembrance of the fool's visage. This one had the same type of look, a clownishly painted mask and respirator that was used in a more criminal context. I enjoyed the jacket of this particular one, and the hat was...tasteful and intimidating.

Still...this event was already deigned a farce from the beginning. The goal here was apparently more of a collaborative one, although violence had not been prohibited. The fools. This would become a blood bath just as any other game. The Death Games were like the Apex Qualifiers, or so I'd heard. Syntech was monolithic, greater even than the Syndicate back home. It made sense they would have the most prestigious version of the local bloodsports. It was almost....comforting, as I slid the costume on and stepped out to the disembarkation door. The hammer hung heavy on my back, this outfit forgoing the chemical tanks and tubing. I already knew the rules, and part of the joy of these events for me was getting to recreate my toxins from whatever I could find. If this farce was to be more "child-friendly" than others, then I would not mind dressing the part to increase the horror of what kills I could gather.

"Na- Oh wow. Is that the fucking poison doctor dude? Why is he dressed like he's about to- OH. OHHHHHHH. Oh my god, bro. Do you know what this means? He has a fucking sense of humor. I don't know what's scarier, that or the fact he kills people and calls it science." The two identical blonde youths stared at me in a transfixed manner as I approached the counter of the docking bay. They apparently didn't care whether or not I heard them, which I had to respect. They worked for Syntech, and I had no doubt anything I did to them could be easily healed or papered over in an instant. Speaking of which....
"Yes. Doctor Mikhail Caustic, or as I'm sure the Arcadian media labels me 'The Terrorist Alexander Nox'." They stared at each other again and slid two stacks of paper towards me, as I pulled out the small medical teleporter I'd saved from my last foray into Death Game. "I have a medical homer I'd like to register with your facilities for recovery and revival." They wordlessy took the device and bagged it in a serious looking plastic envelope while I signed the myriad stacks of documents. "Yes, yes...waivers. Hmph. -koff-."

When I finished they shuffled me into the familiar white circular studio, a robotic camera staring out of the wall while a speaker fizzled to life. "And now, we have wanted criminal and feared murderer Caustic! Show us what you're bringing to this game, Caustic!" I raised a hand.

"I will need some form of stabilized impact cushion for my demonstration. I do not wish to destroy this satellite facility." It took a moment, but the same young men from before rolled in a flat grey square that looked utterly flimsy, like it was made of foam rubber. "Please only hit the stabilizer, Doctor."

I unslung the hammer from my back, brandishing with two hands for the camera. I rose it high in the air, then slammed it downwards with all of my might. The impact was intense, slight vibrations making my palms buzz. The sound was thunderous for a half-second before being swallowed by the device, but the effect was...noticeable. The lights flickered, and the entire room began slowly, imperceptibly tilting at a gentle angle. The speaker fizzled, it's speech interrupted by technical difficulties as I stowed the hammer again. "By fucking Karl Jak himself, he shifted the goddamn station! He changed our rotational axis by ten degrees with that thing! This station weighs over 15,000,000 metric tons!!!!" I shrugged.

"Do not find yourselves in my range. It would be...exhilarating to see the impact on living flesh."

With that, I stepped out of the room and into the teleporter chamber.

An endless white void stretched out all around Kolith. Pillars of blue flame crackled upwards, like tall blazing trees. He stood facing Gallo, as he appeared when he was alive – a bear a good fifteen feet tall, his fur a deep chocolate brown. A blue light clung to his body, the only indicator of his current spiritual form.

Kolith had asked to speak to Gallo alone in his mind, while he meditated. He trusted all of the Elder Spirits, but Old Bear was special to him. Not to mention, he seemed the wisest of the three.

Gallo lumbered over to Kolith. “You summoned me, little one?”

“You’re sending me to my death,” Kolith said.

Gallo huffed. “What do you mean?”

“This contest, the Dante’s Abyss... there are dozens of entrants. I’ve never watched a whole tournament before – blood sports aren’t interesting to me. But I know the competition is brutal, and the odds of me standing alone as the last survivor don’t seem good.”

Gallo tilted his head, examining Kolith. “Have you truly lost this much confidence in yourself?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that if I don’t survive, all of this training was for nothing.”

“As it would’ve been if you die in your first fight against the Unmade,” Gallo said. “Kolith, what made you follow me into the Forbidden Grove after I slaughtered your livestock?”

“I...” Kolith looked at the ground, his eyes darting about as he tried to form answers with the vague feelings in his head. “I didn’t want you to hurt anyone else.”

“And you would risk your life to save another who you don’t even know?”

“It wasn’t just that, Old Bear,” Kolith said. “I saw the rage in your eyes when you burst into my farm. It was... unnatural. Bears can be aggressive, but only when protecting their young or defending their territory. I threatened neither of those things of yours, and yet you tore my animals to pieces all the same.”

“There was something wrong with you, I could tell,” he continued. “Something had driven you to madness. And I didn’t think that was fair. I wanted to protect others, I did – but I think my main drive in following you was to... protect you.”

The giant bear nodded. “And yet you still attacked and killed me.”

Kolith swallowed down a lump in his throat. “It was the only thing I could think to do, Old Bear. You were in a frenzy, even after all those hours of travel. You were sick, and I had to... I had to ease your pain. The only way I knew how.”

Gallo bowed his head to meet Kolith’s downcast gaze. “You risked your life to give me peace, little one. You risked your life to stop anyone else from meeting the same fate as your animals. But your sadness over my death is holding you back. You must realise that sometimes that is the only option we have. And you must stop treating your actions that day like some unforgivable sin that is forever etched into your soul.”

Kolith breathed deeply. The sentiment was finally starting to settle in. “That may be, Old Bear. But the tournament...”

“If you find yourself in doubt, remember your training. We did not choose you because of your proximity to the forest. You have the courage, the strength, and the determination to do what must be done, no matter the cost. That is a trait a hunter of the Unmade will need as powerful as possible. It will be tough, have no illusions about that. But with your victory, none shall stand in your path.”

---

“Next!”

Kolith snapped back to the present moment. He was next in line.

A disinterested man in his forties leaned against the booth, his elbow on the top with his chin in his hand. His other hand wobbled a stylus pen back and forth as he stared at a tablet device on the booth counter.

“Name?” he asked.

“Kolith.”

“Address?”

“Erde Nona. The Forbidden Grove.”

“Oooh, sounds tantalising,” the man said with the most deadpan delivery Kolith had ever heard. “Now, uh...” He finally lifted his eyes from his electronic scribbling, giving Kolith a look up and down. “What do you do? Are you some sort of survivalist or something?”

Kolith frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Well come on, what can you do?” the man said, gesturing with his arms. “What makes you stand out from the crowd? Do you punch really hard? Can you fly through the air? Can you burp the alphabet? Anything to make people want to watch you?”

“Well, I can do this...”

Kolith arched his back and threw back his shoulders. He roared, his eyes shining with blue light, his canine teeth elongated, as translucent blue bear paws engulfed his hands. The roar ended, and the ursine aesthetics dissolved into cyan vapour.

“Oh,” the man said, suddenly alert. “That... well, that makes you stand out. Please, this way to the teleportation room.”

Kolith followed the direction, smirking just a little as the man gave him one last apprehensive glance.

Sometimes doing nothing can be surprisingly productive. I had already been in hospitality of the Kaalakiota Correctional facility for two months when all hell broke loose. Half the station turned into monsters, the other half cutting their hedge funds and running. They try to keep us out of the loop down here in the mega-corp basement, but the grapevine has pretty long roots.

I considered moving on…cutting a few wires, cutting even more throats, jumping a trash barge and never looking back. The usual game. But I had a hunch that staying put would pay off in this new, Unmade reality.

When most people manage to lock me up, they prefer to forget I ever existed…so when Captain Sylvia Tilly came calling around my cell block with two armed guards, I knew my hunch was right. They needed me.

"So let me get this straight. You send me to go play with Syntech, I score an artifact for Kaalakiota, and you just overlook the whole battleship thing." Riddick said slowly. He thumbed the edge of his power-cuffs and glanced up the captain with shining eyes. Sylvia spread her arms wide and gave him a placid look.

"Those are the terms." she said curtly. Her flowing red hair was done up in a menacing bun, pinned in place with a pair of tooth-studded needles. Riddick nodded slowly.

"...pass." he said, leaning back against the cool, iron wall.

"Pass?" Sylvia snorted. She drew her disruptor pistol and pointed it at the perp's face. A lethal whine issued from the pistol as its phase capacitors went hot.

"How about I give you a pass?" she hissed.

"Ooh, touchy." Riddick cooed. He stretched his neck lazily and regarded the flickering energy weapon.

"This is too straight-up for Heth. Too convenient. I'd rather take my chances at gunpoint than take my chances on that backstabbing son of a bitch." the thief shrugged.

"Take your chances." Captain Tilly said with a menacing nod. She pulled the trigger on the disruptor, and an orange flash filled the cell. The bolt deflected off of Riddick's carefully positioned power-cuffs and struck the left goon in the chest, ripping open a hole in his torso.

The rogue was on his feet in a heartbeat, and slung his bound arms around Tilly's neck. Her Terran eyes had been temporarily blinded by the deflected shot, but she was still an Imperial Captain. She pulled a ceramite dagger hidden in her belt buckle and drove it between Riddick's ribs. He grunted down a cry of pain as the blade struck home, but he didn't break his headlock.

"Shoulda just taken the deal, perp." Tilly seethed as Riddick dragged her down the hallway. Her second guard followed with his gauss rifle readied, but he wouldn't risk blasting the captain.

"Way I see it, ngh…now we're actually negotiating." Riddick grunted. The great thing about having nearly indestructible handcuffs is that Moh's scale of hardness becomes irrelevant.

With another grunt, the murderous rogue shoved Tilly back at her guard, and bashed the heavy manacles into a wiring duct cover. By the time Tilly and the grunt were back on their feet, Riddick had slipped inside.

"Shit. SHIT!" Tilly screamed. She fired several fizzling shots into the floor plates, hoping for the impossible…but Riddick was gone.

"Lock down the entire corrections module. Dispatch nanobot patrols in all the service ducts. That perp owes me blood." the Captain screamed into her comm badge.

Crawling three and a half clicks through rusty conduits while handcuffed ain't no one's idea of a slick escape. But if Captain Killy thought nanobots were reliable, she needs to review her robotics. A few well placed magnets scrapped up from maintenance hatches can make for one hell of a metal fly-trap.

No, what really messed me up was the pound and a half of ceramite steel wedged into my pancreas. Nasty job too; serrated and barbed…classic Terran design. By the time I fell out of the ceiling into Syntech's recrutiment kiosk, I was a real savage mess.

Bet it looked great on camera.

Syntech Abbey had just been returning from her lunch break -- cobb salad with a boba tea still counted as healthy right? -- when a giant slab of grunting meat fell out of the ceiling. She yelped, in spite of herself, and instinctively ducked behind her intake counter as the blood-streaked twunk rose to his feet. He took a long breath through his nose, sat down in the interview chair, and crossed his arms.

"Are you uh..." Abbey said, standing up slightly and fixing her hair, "...here to join this year's Dante's Abyss?"

Riddick nodded.

"Seems that way." he rumbled. Abbey offered a nervous smile.

"For...for legal purposes I must have an affirmative yes." she chuckled. Riddick leaned forwards, slowly and stared at her from across the room as she got the camera set up. She could feel him picking her apart with his eyes, even from behind those doofy googles. Gross.

"Affirmative. Yes." he grinned.

"Great! And your name?" Abbey hummed as she turned on the Syntech Live Feed.

"Riddick."

He spoke each syllable and sound like it was a bloody oath. She eyed the burnt, metallic handcuffs binding his wrists; it wasn't uncommon for maniacs to skip prosecution or jail time by taking their chances on the Abyss. This guy...was definitely a psycho. No doubt.

"All right Riddick. And what can you tell us about you? Why should the other contestants fear you?" Abbey chirped.

A warning siren began to blare on the transporter deck. Abbey quailed again, shrinking in fear as she glanced at the rogue sitting eight feet away. Riddick, however, seemed unphased.

"A lotta people spend their lives wondering how they're gonna die." he said in his ever-patient drawl.

"...y-yeah...?"

"Well, the other people in this contest...don't gotta wonder any more." Riddick smiled. Abbey smiled, nodded, and smacked the Syntech Transporter button so hard, one of her acrylic nails went skittering off into a corner.

"Well that's great thank you bye!" she yipped. Riddick nodded pleasantly as he stood up out of his chair and sauntered over to the teleport pad.

"One last thing, uh, we have to remove any special equipment from you before you enter the preshow district." Abbey said, glancing at the power cuffs.

"Be my guest." he nodded. Abbey stepped forward and waved her Syntech Override Key over the binding devices, which fell away with a loud clank.
Riddick reached down to his side, and yanked out the barbed knife with a suppressed grunt.

"Don't forget that one." he said softly, dropping it onto the countertop. Abbey glanced at the blood-soaked razor like a cornered rabbit. But before she could jam the energize trigger, a shout came from the hallway.

"Stop that man! He's a wanted fugitive of Kaalakiota!"

Captain Killy was charging down the corridor straight for the Syntech Kiosk with eight guards in tow. Abbey blinked and looked between the Captain and this murderer standing next to her. Riddick, however, was not one to hesitate.

"Tell Tibus Heth I'll get him his artifact...but I'll decide what he pays me." the rogue shouted.

With that, he yanked the energizer and disappeared in a flash of glittery, purple haze...

“And what is it that he thinks he is doing?”

“Giving them a show, kitten, I missed out on a lot of publicity over the past couple of years that I need to catch up on.”

“And that is participating in a game run by Karl Jak. You’ll most likely end up dead.” She scoffed.

“Just like the rest of them, of course, the guild has insurance, right? Shouldn’t be an issue.”

The two stood in front of one of the many booths that were recruiting volunteers for the fabled Comet this year. The khajiiti woman scowled softly before giving a bit of a smirk.

“For a shadow, this one seems to enjoy being in the spotlight.”

“You need some light to cast a shadow~” he teased back, to which she shook her head.

“Fine, play your deadly game. This one will watch and pray to Noctra that he is not the first one cut down in his hubris.”

“Put in a good word for me, will you?” He spoke with a kiss as he signed the last of the paperwork.

“This one would avoid telling her if she thought it would shield his cocky stunts from her gaze, but the lady of the night has her eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Then here’s to hoping she’s watching~”

The guard is sprawled out against the archway, leading to a booth. The line of men and women has finally died down. Pyke steps out from the shadows, bathed in sunlight. Her eyes go wide. Her quickening heartbeat resounds, deafening, pumping blood back to her now pasty-white face.

Pyke studies her face again, for a mere moment. Her eyes stab at his mind.

A jaulling vessel. Four-master with tattered sails. Waves the size of mountains.

Long hair in sea-wind. Dozens of faces on deck, watching. Brown eyes. Brown eyes, wide with disbelief.

“Who’s that?!” She yells.

Come find out.

The strange weapon is aimed at Pyke’s head. Then comes a whir, a flash of white and a streak of energy. The shot was true, cobbles splinter and crack because Pyke is no longer there.

He’s in the mist.

He dissipates. Salt and drops of water — a fine man into a fine mist.

She reloads. Drops of sweat bead at her brow.

In that moment, Pyke is everywhere. He’s all around her, in the in between, somewhere behind the air. Studying her. He recognises those eyes.

Pyke needs to be sure. He takes form. Tell me your name. he rasps.

She clams up. Nobody expects anyone to appear behind them. This wasn’t some fantasy. In reality, they all just piss themselves or fall flat on their faces. This sailor is no rule breaker on that.

She stumbles forwards and hits the deck. She’s scrambling away as the Ripper pulls the manifest to consult it.

I remember you..

He takes a step closer, his attention on the manifest. All those names. All those red crosses. Where did I get all that ink..?

You were watching..

Step.

You were laughing..

Tears well up. Her voice catches in her throat. “What are you talking about?!” She manages.

Name.

“Shannon.. D-Dower”

Pyke stops to consult the manifest one last time. One step from her. Looming.

Lucky. he crows, Your name ain’t on my list, yet. Keep it that way.

She scrambles to her feet. She’s running now. Leaving her post. Doesn’t matter to him. The cameras watch as he steps into the teleporter.

Plenty more names to cross off my list..

What the actual unbelievably frustrating Hell??

There was no way. There was no way he wasn't just hallucinating or whatever.

He was cold. Or supposed to be.

They were probably still there. His brain was probably boiling away, now, the way his compatriots' were. Way up in the butthole of some stupid frozen hellworld. Being psychically attacked by... something? The Yellow King?

Hard to remember... the influence of that... thing felt... there. But far, now.

So instead of being uncomfortably deep inside of Inverxse Inversx In...verxe?

Anyway. This was worse. Some kind of horrible... lobby. No. The twisted lovechild of if the various lobbies of a hotel, hospital, country club, dance club, and pharmaceutical company had some awful, terrible, eldritch hanky panky.

It was ugly. A real testament to the exact kind of hateful banality that humanity aspired to. It was an uncomfortably clean, monochrome, unassuming environment. It was an icon of everything he wanted to see burned to ash.

"Hellooooo there~!" he said, graciously flagging down some awful black-and-white-suit uncomfortable looking person with a vibrantly colored silk scarf he'd produced from seemingly nowhere. They obviously worked here. "Pray tell, um..."

Kefka leaned in a little closer to the little brunette woman who had come to his aid. "What," he whispered. "The fuck is this."

"Why, this is Dante's Abyss 2022! Sponsored by Syntech!"

"What?" he seemed genuinely distressed by this. "What the hell is Dante's Abyss and how could you have possibly run it over two thousand times? Is it just the one idea at whoever this 'SynthEc' is?"

"Oh, it's definitely closer to like, 13 times. I'm not sure, to be honest."

"Great," Kefka responded with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been asked to work a triple shift at a job he'd hated. "So what is it?"

A very long explanation ensued. Frustratingly long. Long enough that he'd spent a lot of time considering whether or not it might be worth just setting her and everyone else in the vicinity on fire to give these people at least the briefest glimpse of life in their grey empty existences - before they died, obviously.

From the fire.

"Wait, what?" he suddenly picked something out of her still-ongoing speech. "I have free reign to just go out and kill the other contestants? And there's a prize?"

"Well, that's not necessarily-"

"To whom do I tender my intent to compete."

"Well, first..."

[SCENE MISSING - KEFKA SIGNS THE PAPERWORK - ONLY 3 CASUALTIES (1 FATALITY)]

"O-Okay," the attendant said. "You're... all good. Can I go now?"

She seemed nervous. Maybe it was the fact that her colleague's blood was now on her shirt. And her face. And the ceiling.

"Yes, of course; you've been wonderful. I do so hope you'll root for me. Taaa~!"

“Sir, we totally did it!”

The excited group of interns rushed into Karl’s office without so much as a cursory rap on the door. At the head of the pack, Charlie stood beaming from ear-to-ear as if she’d just won her elementary school spelling bee.

Overexcitable zoomers. Karl thought smugly as he took a sip of the malbec. The label, which featured a scene from King Arthur’s roundtable, was a tongue-in-cheek message from one cosmic space god to another.

“Hello, Charlie,” Karl replied as he sprinkled a pinch of salt onto the head of the wine (it always seemed to enhance the flavor of this particular vintage). “What brings you barging into my office on the precipice of launch hour?”

“That ‘impossible assignment’ you gave us?” She replied in a tone that bordered on a titter. “I, uh, we accomplished it, Sir!” At that, the group all once again started to clap their hands and display a heaping amount of emotion and mirth.

Karl, taking a long sip, smiled at the girl’s jubilation. While he wasn’t privy to everything that went on at all times, he assumed that her motivation was likely something beyond the realm of just pleasing her boss. Outperforming a former colleague who had done this job years prior? Setting herself on the fast track?

“So you found him?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied as she started to tap at her tablet. “We’ve already got him registered and off in the Barracks. He was sooooo friendly about the whole thing! You had us so scared with the whole speech about ‘watching our guts… literally’.”

At that, Karl furrowed his brow. “Flynn doesn’t do stuff to be nice,” he spoke softly. “We’ve been colleagues for years, and the only thing that motivates that man is murdering monsters. Did you lead with the angle about all the demon and monster children running around? Was that why he was so amenable?”

A general air of confusion started to set over the group of interns as they started to jockey for a better glance at the tablet Charlie held. For her part, she was fervently shuffling through the various documents and pictures loaded onto her screen. “You’re saying he wouldn’t have talked at length about wanting to be our friend?” She muttered finally as she pivoted the tablet to face her boss.

Karl, for his part, managed to subdue a laugh that would have sent wine spurting back out his mouth as he tried to sip.

“Dismissed,” he finally managed to choke out.

“But.”

“Dismissed.” He repeated as he waved out the interns. They all retreated with their metaphorical tails between their legs, even as their boss started to laugh out loud behind him.

“You think I’d craft better help,” he finally said to himself as he leaned onto an intercom. “Kevin?” He asked after smashing the button.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Dispatch someone to idiot-proof the Barracks, please. Quickly.”

The wind howled outside Sark’s headquarters as the mercenaries were wandering around the building, pacing appearing to be waiting for something to happen After staring up the television countless times, the terminator crossed his arms listening to what appeared to be an infomercial about Dante’s Abyss.

“FUN, FUN, FUN, For the whole family”

Dante’s Cometttttttttttttt!”

Sign UP Nowwwwww!” An unusually obnoxious voice spoke over the television set.

“Say, hey boys and girls! Who doesn’t love a good death game?” The voice boomed over the set, “Don’t forget the ladies and gentlemen in this.”

“This year consists of these wonderful items to fight over. Show them what they could win, Jerry.”

“That’ssssssssssss right, for signing up now. You are *guaranteed to win a heaping prize of Essence and a b..brand newwwww Car.

As soon as that flashed by, a simple warning was flashed under the star in tiny letters.

*Death game not insured. Please buy death revive before coming. Car not included, Heaping essence may depend on what place you get*

“But hurry folks, There’s one day before Dante’s Comet starts!”

The contractors seemed more like a mixed “family” now that the group finished what they needed to do. Every so often, there would be kickbacks and perks of being between each other. There was more loose trust among the group, and rewards were split evenly among the group at hand.

It made it even more handy that John had a group of men “somewhat on his side.”

The terminator eyed John and nodded “What about this Shinku’s offer? He rode off into the sunset last time we saw him and haven’t seen him since.”

John frowned “He was heading toward Dante’s Abyss for information about this guy who I can’t remember the name of.”

The terminator nodded “Assuming he was waiting for us to show up as well in Dante’s Abyss.”

John gritted his teeth and sighed. Dante’s Comet was a death game and signing up was even more dangerous than he thought. Last time he had a reason to go find out about the Unmade, and report back. But now? What reason did he have for going?

One of the items could probably help him in the long run.

Sark looked up and blinked, fingering a few gems from the last mission Connor and the others returned from. “Perhaps you’ll find out what you really want if you think about it.”
The metallic beast fingered a gun in his fingers.

“Are you sure we have enough ammo and things to go around?” John turned to Sark. Sark threw him some ammunition “Got plenty though.” He tossed several magazines toward Connor and the terminator.

The man didn’t say much but he nodded.

The man grabbed his items and took what he needed before the terminator finished loading up and followed the soldier behind him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unmarked location- 0700

“You want to sign up for Dante’s Abyss?” The bored looking salesperson sat up and blinked. “Looks like a last minute entry to me, yeah. Wait, you want to sign up? The terminator pushed John in front of him “Both of us want to sign up. He’s.. a friend. The terminator forced a cheesy smile at the person at the desk.

The man said “Alright, uh… sign here and here.. Yes yes. Hold on. *Phone rings* Yeah, what do you mean this is a contestant from last year? Uhuh, sure ok. He says your peachy keen. The man made a ok symbol and nodded.

“Put this on and you know the drill.”