Dante's Abyss - Registrations (IC) - Registrations end July 11th

[Karl Jak]

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

To quote the pertinent pieces of information:

1. 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.
2. 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.

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 DAC20 has as its centerpiece the iconic event itself, Dante's Abyss, which pits a number of individuals against one another in a battle for suvival, both against the elements, one another, and even 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 during my early morning shift tomorrow.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

“Sir! Sir!”

Arthur paused in walking towards what was in all likelihood New Abraxas’ only tavern, having been all too eager to rejoin Dell and Matt a second before. He turned his head to stare at a booth owner standing about ten feet away, waving in his direction and smiling just a bit maniacally. Several identical booths were lined up alongside their booth, a few other people idly milling about in front and whispering amongst themselves, eyeing the booth managers with blatant suspicion.

“Over here!” the booth owner called out, leaning over the booth’s table so incredibly far that it seemed she’d topple right over it. She wore a purple shirt and had a strange necklace around her neck, what looked like a little white card attached to it flapping around as she flailed at him.

Brows scrunching together in confusion, Arthur glanced over his shoulder, searching for whoever she might be yelling at. Upon seeing absolutely no one behind him, he turned reluctantly back around to face her.

“Yes, you! Come here! Don’t be shy!”

Even more reluctantly, Arthur wandered over to the booth. He glanced up at the sign hanging over the booth labeled “Syntech”, then down at the booth manager. She grinned up at him, hands clasped together like she was praying.

“Helloooooo, traveller!” crooned the booth owner, visibly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “My name’s Melissa. Might I learn your name as well, sir?”

Arthur, through sheer force of will, resisted the urge to sigh. “The name’s Arthur,” he said, and then paused before saying anything else, looking around at the booth some more— taking in the colorful posters and strange glass panels everywhere, all of it seeming very out of place inside the encampment. “What’s all this? You sellin’ something?”

“Oh, no no no. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. This is the Dante’s Abyss Convention sign up booth, and you, my friend, are going to be one of the FIRST contestants to sign up on this world!”

“I ain’t signing anything,” said Arthur, frowning and backing away.

“O-oh, no, of course not,” Melissa agreed, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She raised her hands in a placating gesture and desperately tried to regain his attention. “It’s only if you want to. But I must say that it would be an excellent decision to sign up.”

Casting another longing glance over his shoulder at the canteen, Arthur turned back to Melissa. He placed his hands on his hips, giving her a hard stare from under the brim of his hat. “That so?”

“Absolutely. If you win Dante’s Abyss, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. And all you need to do to enter is provide your name and tell the world what you’ll bring to the competition!” Melissa assured him, smiling once again.

Struck with the distinct feeling that he was being swindled like a fish on a line, Arthur decided to take the bait anyway. “Alright, you’ve got my attention,” he said, leaning in and planting his elbows on the booth. “What’s this competition all about?”

“I’m glad you asked!” exclaimed Melissa, visibly relieved that he’d decided to stick around. “I just knew you’d be interested. Anyway, Dante’s Abyss is mainly about survival. You’ll be transported to an island, as will the other contestants, and from there you’ll be competing against one another to weather the elements and survive the island’s many challenges. None of your own weapons will be permitted of course; we’ll provide you with new ones.”

Arthur hmm-ed. Nodded along with her words. “Doesn’t sound bad so far.”

“Yeah, it’s easy! Oh, and you’ll also be tasked with killing each other. Last person standing wins the game,” Melissa chirped, getting the words out in a rush. She flashed him a toothy grin. “So, you ready to sign up or what?!”

He stared at her. Stared at this clearly insane human being. “Why in the hell would I want to do that?” Arthur wanted to know, the suspicion and slight disgust clear on his face.

“Well, you’ll come back if you die! Probably. I mean, most contestants do. And the prize money isn’t all that shabby, either...”

The outlaw thought for a moment, debating. On the one hand, he might need the money if he was gonna make a place for himself here, and even if he didn’t win this horrific death match, he hadn’t pictured much of a future for himself, anyway. He’d given everything up for the remaining members of the gang, those who didn’t deserve to suffer for Dutch’s hubris and lies; what more was there for him to do in this life?

On the other hand, he’d died once already. Wasn’t one brush with death enough? The hand that’d come into contact with the dead man’s fire twitched, a jolt of cold stinging at his fingers. It was a real tough question, that was for certain.

With a solemn shake of his head, Arthur took a step back from the booth. Melissa’s smile slipped from her face, her excitement dimming considerably.

She was surprised when the man only reached up to adjust his satchel instead of turning to walk away, his hands smoothing over the leather before he looked up at her again. His gaze latched onto hers, surprisingly earnest for such a rough-and-tumble cowboy. “It alright if I bring my journal along?”

Melissa stared at him in shock for a moment, mouth gaping open, and then swiftly clamped her mouth shut. “Oh! Yes, yes, that’s perfectly fine. Now, come here, come here, let’s get you in front of that camera!”

She ushered him behind the booth and into a small tent just behind it, which seemed to lead into another, much larger tent at the back. Arthur could feel eyes on the back of his neck as he followed her back, most likely the other travelers considering if they would get in line or not.

At the back of the booth was a camera the likes of which Arthur hadn’t seen before, though similar enough to the ones he had seen that he weren’t too troubled when it was leveled in his direction. He eyed it uncomfortably as he stood there, feet placed squarely on the little mark in the floor that Melissa’d pointed out for him. He abruptly realized that he was still covered in blood from the dead raptor, his blue shirt stained with red all down his front and back.

“Okay, now, just stand there and look pretty. Gosh, your eyes are so dreamy. The perfect facial hair to skin ratio… you’ll be so popular with the fans, I can’t wait to read the thirsty comments on our DAC20 socials,” Melissa sighed, staring off into space.

“What?” asked Arthur. Socials?

“Aaaaannyyyway—” Melissa sing-songed, pressing something on the side of the camera with a flourish. Arthur blinked at the glowing red light that immediately flicked to life, focusing on it without really meaning to. “Can you please state your full name?”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur’s face shifted to something less spooked, more intimidating. A tense jaw and slightly squinted eyes. The face of an enforcer, an outlaw. Nevermind that he didn’t know why he was telling the camera that—and didn’t those fancy contraptions just take still pictures? Regardless, Arthur steeled himself, ready for anything.

What the hell, he thought. Might as well.

“My name’s Arthur Morgan.”

Melissa shot him a thumbs up from the other side of the camera. “Excellent! Thank you, Mr. Morgan. And what are you bringing to this year’s Dante’s Abyss that you think the competition might lack?”

“Well it ain’t class, that’s for sure,” Arthur said dryly, cracking a slight smile.

“Aaaand that’s a wrap!” Melissa muttered, turning off the red glowing light with a click. “We’ll edit some of that later.”

She walked around him to a cabinet he hadn’t noticed before, opening it to bring out a stack of papers. Shifting through them in several practiced finger motions, Melissa turned and held a sheet of paper out to Arthur, pencil included.

“You’ll need to fill this out once you’re transported to the island, another employee you meet there will accept it. Now, let’s get you to the teleportation pad…” she rattled off, already beginning to walk off. Arthur walked slowly after her, staring a bit wide-eyed at the glowing, sound-emitting panes of glass they moved past, some of them even showing moving pictures like the black and white lantern films he’d seen once in Saint Denis.

Finally, they arrived at a… room, if it could even be called that. It was really just another plain canvas tent, though this one was much wider than the camera tent located just behind the front booth. Arthur eyed the tangles of cords lining the ground with clear distrust, his eyes following them to a large white platform slightly elevated above the ground. A strange light emanated from it, a few circular shapes impressed into the platform’s surface.

“Alrighty then, let’s get this show on the road!” Melissa whooped, moving over to some kind of elevated desk that looked almost like a metallic preacher’s pulpit. She did something behind the desk, and Arthur startled as almost instantly a strange vbmmmm vbmmmmm sound started up, the intense humming very obviously coming from the platform. “Get on up there, Mr. Morgan.”

“You sure that thing is… safe?” asked Arthur, his eyes flicking around from the ceiling, the walls, and finally to the floor. He went to stand on the platform anyway, pausing in the center of one of the circles. He could feel a peculiar heat emanating from it, the gently stirring air brushing warmly over his legs.

“Not a bit.”

A cheerfully loud ping! came from Melissa’s desk, followed shortly by a powerful flash of light.

 

[Foo Fighters]

Okuyasu had managed to outpace the crowd, shooting through the air and cushioning his landing by zipping right to the ground and landing on his feet. The balls of hisnfeet tensed, the extra momentum threatening to tip him over. He clenched his asscheeks, his lips puting out as he kept his hands level with his waist, elbows pulling in. It was taking all of his strength not to tip over, but he managed it, then tipped his hand to his pompadour and grinned. "Nice."

"OH MY GAAAAAAWWWWD!"

He blinked, turning towards the high pitched shriek only to see a large wooden building labeled "SynneTech", with what looked like a female anthropomorphic corgi, her tail wagging furiously. "You should totally join the event! That was amazing! The cameras would looooove you!"

He blinked again, stepping up to the booth and looking over the sheet she proffered him. "What is....some kinda game show?" He asked, confused. "This looks too complicated. Thinking makes my head hurt, y'know." It looked interesting, and he tried to skim over the thick paragraphs of confusingly obtuse legalese.

"Yeah! Dante's Comet! It's like, you know, the Apex Games, or Battle Island! You compete with other competitors to win pri-"

"Oi oi oi! WHAAAATTTT??!" He'd found the prize money section, it seemed. Okuyasu bent in close and tightened his fist. "I'll sign up! What do I have to do?" She beamed, her eyes glowing as that fluffy tail wagged near Mach 2. "Inside! Head inside!"

He stomped past the booth, putting on a tough face as the booth attendant waved goodbye. "Good luck, sir!"

He almost ran into the back of a long ass line.

"Uggghhhh!" Slapping his forehead, he gritted his teeth until he reached the end of the line. Finally, a large video camera was pointed at a circular stage he was ushered on to. "Alright, Name and show us what you can do for the audience, kid." He blinked gormlessly into the bright light, before shaking his head and gritting his teeth.

"Uh...I'm Okuyasu Nijimura." Taking a deep breath, he hopped back and brought forth his Stand in front of him. The currency themed psychopomp grimaced and posed in front of the camera, before it raised it's right hand and clenched it visibly. "And I'm going to wipe away the competition with my Stand, The Hand!"

It swiped, and he zipped forward in the blink of an eye, zooming right up to the lense and throwing a mock punch, leering at the camera.

After that, he was shuffled off the stage into yet another line, forcing him to seethe with the excitement that had built in front of the camera.

And just as his stomach was starting to complain about being empty, he reached the front of the line. Another circular stage awaited him, and he looked at the bored looking technician, who answered in a monotone. "Just step on the circle, man."

Okuyasu complied, shrugging with confusion. "Wait, so like, is it a -"

KZZZZZZZZZT

He disappeared in a flash of light.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Mickey Mouse had been up all night. He’d slept for maybe a wink when suddenly he bolted awake and, wholly losing the fight to actually get some freakin’ sleep before sign-ups the next day, scurried to the barracks’ common area and plopped down on the couch. On his way inside earlier in the evening, he’d spotted something truly special. The mercenaries that comprised New Abraxas’ makeshift defense force had somehow managed to snag an artifact that required the mouse’s eyes. It necessitated further investigation, and sinking into the middle cushion of the burgundy sofa, stained with Gosh-knows-what, Mickey smiled.

So! Many! DVDs!

It had been so long since he’d seen one! The cracking plastic cases, the slightly dusty discs, the cute little booklets that listed the scenes… it brought him back to movie nights with his honey bun, snuggled up on their own scarlet sofa back home and popping something they’d rented from the local video store into the DVD player. The mercenaries’ selection was far less copious than any of his kingdom’s extensive film libraries, but he’d come into this room in the middle of the night looking for more insight on a specific subject, and he hadn’t been disappointed.

His choices splayed out on the coffee table in front of him, he selected one and popped it in. As the blue-ish glow of the television set flickered on, he thought he caught Mugen’s silhouette slipping into the bathroom, and he scoffed. The raucous ronin had been drinking all dang day, and now he probably found himself with a bit of a peeing problem. The mouse king would not let any vices like the young man’s lust for drink get in the way of his newfound fervor for this competition.

If he was gonna really embrace this new world, and really throw himself into Dante’s Abyss in a way he hadn’t during either of his previous run-ins with Mr. Jakity Jak, then he was gonna have to put in the work.

As the title ‘Rocky III’ flashed on the screen, he cracked his knuckles.

Let’s get down to business.

The sweaty boxer dude’s training regimen left the mouse in awe. Lifting weights, jumping rope, walking dogs! Somewhere in the common area, he uncovered a notepad and pen and began jotting down tips and tricks. After a marathon sprint through Rocky III and the training montages of Karate Kid and the first Rocky film (and a brief experience with Rambo that ended very quickly when he realized how violent it was), Mickey’s rounded handwriting was scrawled on too many pages of the notepad to count. Before the sun had even peeked into the windows of the barracks, the mouse king had tightened a red bandana around his head, swiped a bow and quiver of arrows from the mercs’ stockroom, and headed out into the yard between the barracks and New Abraxas’ town center.

Light had just barely started to spill through the canopy of the trees when the high-pitched sounds of the city’s newest resident shouting his tiny little face off echoed through the collection of repurposed ruins.

“Wax on! Wax off!”

He echoed young Ralph Macchio’s movements, swiping right and left with his gloved fists. Imaginary blows bounced off his skinny forearms as he held strong against his invisible assailants. No doubt this multiverse’s warriors would prove worthy challengers, but the mouse had been through all this hullabaloo before; he’d be ready for them this time.

A large, stone column rose out of the ground near the spot where Syntech had started to construct makeshift registration booths in Kraw’s ‘capital.’ Several bystanders sporting deep purple t-shirts with the Syntech logo on them paused their work for a few moments to watch the mouse king shoot an arrow toward the peak of the column. They stifled giggles as it bounced off the stone structure, and the intense, in-the-zone mouseketeer turned to them and glared.

“Still gonna climb it!” he announced proudly, and so he did, bounding off the grassy ground and almost sprinting up the side. With no shirt on, the Syntech employees — and their cell phones, which some of them had already unsheathed — could clearly see perspiration dripping off Mickey Mouse’s fur as he clambered up the structure, gloved hands gripping tiny cracks and small ledges as he went. He hoisted himself up onto the top and plopped down on his butt, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he took in Kraw’s air from new heights.

These folks had heard of ‘Eye of the Tiger,’ maybe, but had any of them ever heard ‘Eye of the Mouse’?

He landed with a thump on the ground in front of the registration booth, which, during his homemade training montage, had already attracted a few competitors. The blonde girl leaning on the stool behind the table tip-tapped at her mobile device as Mickey stood and placed his hands on his hips proudly, waiting to be acknowledged.

Several seconds passed and the girl didn’t look up. What the heck? Did these Syntech employees not recognize a Dante’s Abyss celeb when they saw one?

“Ahem,” Mickey shrugged nonchalantly, averting his eyes from the registration booth. At long last, the girl’s attention refocused onto him.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Mouse,” she smiled. “So good to see you again.”

Mickey couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, yeah, he’d hated every second of his past two tries at this competition, but hey — it was nice to be noticed.

“I’m Melissa,” she chirped. “We’ve never met, but I’ve seen your archives and I’m a big fan. Everyone is! I just posted your cute little pole dance on my Terragram and wow, it already has, like… ten likes.”

Mickey’s brow furrowed slightly at the word ‘cute,’ but he tried not to show his frustration. He didn’t know what half of the other words the lady had said were, but at least she’d recognized the technique. Pole dancing was a fighting style he’d read about extensively in Play, Boy! and he was happy to have his hard work in the form acknowledged, even if he still had quite a ways to go before he was as good as the girls in those pictures.

“I assume you’re here to sign up, then?” Melissa asked with a grin, holding up a clipboard. “Everyone back on the Comet will be just lit if you do.”

Mickey let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t believe he was about to freakin’ do this again.

“You betcha.”

And with those words — and a quick whirl through a wacky teleportation machine — Mickey Theodore Mouse was swept away from the planet Kraw, once more diving deep into the gruesome playground of Dante’s Abyss.

Mickey's outfit during his training/initial registration. He'll probably change back when he arrives on the Comet.

 

[Kopaka]

The shuttle from Erde Nona to Opealon took a few days, at least by Kopaka could track. Things like day and night did not necessarily apply to space travel, which the Toa found to be rather enjoyable despite his recent awakening. Though he had no memories of his time before the desert, he recognized internally the sensation of a novel experience. He spent many long hours aboard the small vessel looking out at the turning Worlds and stars beyond them, contemplating his place in the grand scheme of the Crossroads. The Orc priestess had explained much to him, and encouraged the android to let go of his past. Despite this, he still felt his thoughts occasionally returning to the snippets of memory that skirted the boundaries of his conscious mind.

He was also becoming acutely aware of the fact that his personal configuration was an anomaly, in contrast to the majority of Crossroads denizens. Almost all of them were primarily organic, in contrast to his heavily mechanized body. He felt their stares and heard their idle gossip and wondering from the far corners of the observation deck, and resented it. Kopaka did not consider himself particularly prideful, but it occurred to him that he deserved a tad more respect than being some crass distraction or sideshow.

Thankfully, at least, the other passengers seemed too intimidated to approach him. This was acceptable.

After the third day of transit, the Toa of Ice got to experience the glory of re-entry. There was a furious whirling of heat, air and power as the World itself pushed against the screaming descent of the vessel. A nearly endless sprawl of shimmering ocean stretched to every horizon, intersected here and there by airborne islands. The floating motes of earth were connected by glittering bridges that reminded him of...something from before his Sleep. He could not place it, but opted to turn his gaze from the spectacle due to growing frustration.

The flight attendant in the cabin who had been urging him to buckle up for landing was summarily relieved when Kopaka complied with her pleading and, shortly thereafter, disembarked.

The spaceport on Opealon was a sweltering, bustling place full of rustling palms and keening seabirds. Despite having been in the desert a few days ago, the warmth on this flying island felt much more aggressive. Suffocating, even. Or, perhaps it was the thronging crowds milling around him. Each conversation was individually scanned for relevant topics and disregarded, but it soon became too much even for his synthetic processors to keep track of. Kopaka walked numbly down the smoothly paved street in a daze, trying to focus on his next objective but too overwhelmed to be able to focus. At least, until, one particularly loud voice cut through the rest.

"Whoa! Lookit this guy! Hey! Hey! Uh, robot man!"

Kopaka turned slowly to regard the source of the hailing, and squinted fiercely at the purple-glad organism standing behind a small fortification of some sort. The Toa scanned this entity, and similarly uniformed creatures in the tent behind him. They seemed organized and well equipped, but Kopaka did not detect any sort of weaponry on their persons. Still...

Kopaka drew sword and shield and approached the entity that had called out to him. It was an organism he had heard described as a 'human'. This particular specimen had dark brown skin, a tall face, and several rows of neatly braided hair. He seemed to shrink back slightly as Kopaka approached, and held his hands up in what Kopaka perceived as a sign of surrender. It was acceptable.

"Easy brother! Didn't mean anything bad. I thought maybe you might be the right kinda body for a Syntech Dante's Abyss challenge, eh?"

Kopaka took a moment to consider this, and decided to continue speaking. He kept his weapons drawn, however.

"What is the nature of this challenge?" he spoke in his buzzing, calm voice. The human relaxed his posture and spread his arms out wide.

"Ahh, you must be new in the Roads, eh? That's alright. Dante's Abyss is the ultimate survival challenge, kickin' up with the strongest bodies in the Crossroads." he said eagerly. The human brandished a pamphlet in Kopaka's direction, and the Toa found that he was completely unable to read it. This had been a problem for some time now, ever since trying to board a shuttle on Erde Nona. The notion that he may be illiterate in this strange new world was deeply unsettling. The human in purple seemed to pick up on this discomfort, and gingerly took now frost-coated paper out of the cold, metal fingers.

"Heyy man you have some kinda ice power? Can't believe it..." the human said, shaking his long, black braids, "...you're gonna be perfect on the island."

The human seemed extremely enthusiastic not only about Kopaka's participation in this challenge, but also the Toa's specifications as a whole. It was encouraging to hear, but Kopaka was still not willing to commit himself to some sort of isolated survival challenge on vindication alone.

"What is the benefit of my victory?" he asked dryly. The human blinked and grinned before leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner. His next words were in a hushed whisper, as if the prize was some grand secret.

"Anything you want. My man, Karl Jak, is the real MVP of the Roads, my guy. Jak-man can set you up with whatever you need. Think on it."

Kopaka did think on it, and glanced around the balmy, tropical surroundings. What he really needed was information, and a direction. This challenge had put itself directly in his path, which certainly provided a direction. But did it resonate with the voice inside of him, as the shaman had suggested? There was too much noise here to know.

"I will accept this challenge." Kopaka said solemnly, finally putting away his weapons. It was, of course, at this moment that the human lunged at the Toa. Kopaka nearly sent a blast of freezing energy into the human's ribcage, but stalled the elemental energy at the last moment. The Syntech attendant ushered Kopaka past the other entry booths with a hearty clap on the back.

"You really are an ice-cold contender, eh? You're gonna do great, mon. Just stand in front of this camera here, and we'll get you on your way. Good luck!" the human gushed. Kopaka turned to watch him leave before facing the person manning the recording station. It was a different organism than a human; colorful and covered in shining scales. Kopaka was curious, but now was not the time.

"What'sss yer name, big guy?" she asked.

"I am Kopaka, Toa of Ice." the android said flatly. The reptilian organism scratched down a few notes with a toothy smile, and visibly shivered.

"Oh good! Good. Good. A real hardnose competitor. No nonsssense. Getting the vibe already. Can we do one more take though? Say it again, but put some real...I dunno...danger into it."

Kopaka stared hard at the video attendant.

"No."

The argonian pulled at her collar slightly and blinked. The spot lighting inside the white tent was glaring harshly off of this...thing's metallic body and was making it difficult to find a good angle. She scooted the camera around the set slightly and did her best to smile.

"Okay! Okay sure. Tell me Kopaka, Toa of Ice. What do you bring to the competition?" the videographer asked. There was a tacit note of challenge in her voice, as if she was forcing Kopaka to justify his being there. This confused the Toa, since it was these Syntech people who had sought his attention in the first place.

"I bring my sword, my shield, and the Kanohi Aka-" Kopaka started, before the woman cut him off.

"Oooh, so sorry darling. We actually can't let you take your equipment with you. It's in the rules." she chirped, holding up one of the pamphlets that he could not read. The Toa narrowed his eyes at her in an accusatory manner; he was beginning to feel tricked. The tent began to grow colder. At the same time, Kopaka was more than a simple warrior of blade and shield. The Toa would not back down from a challenge such as this. The reptilian woman swallowed hard and spoke up again, more shakily.

"S-so...what do you bring to the competition?" she squeaked. Kopaka drew himself up and took a step closer to her, and the camera.

"All the righteous fury of an avalanche, which will scour the land clean from darkness and deception." Kopaka growled. A quiet moment passed, with the only real sounds coming from outside the tent.

"G...great! Step over there please!" the woman yipped, pointing at a smooth, white dias. Kopaka moved to where the woman indicated with loud metallic footsteps, whereupon she jabbed the teleporter button as hard as possible...

 

[Gilgamesh]

Gilgamesh looked around at his crew, the men weary from the days of travel and the constant battle against the natural forces of Inverxe. Many of them had deep bags underneath their eyes. It was difficult to sleep, between being constantly woken up from the natural predators and the resulting fear. Additionally, the stench of the burning flesh flooded the cavern and chipped at the overall morale. Even if PJ was correct that someone else here was a Thing, trying to find out who it was would completely collapse this group. The Thing might be able to kill a handful more people here before becoming naturally discovered, but a witch hunt would lead his men to kill themselves. And even worse, they would no longer be under his control. Someone might say that Gilgamesh was the thing and seize the power from him. This situation was entirely fucked. The crew and even PJ looked at Gilgamesh for instructions and his silence was not helping. He placed his fingers over his eyebrow in frustration.

“Alright,” Gilgamesh sighed, relaxing the muscles in his face and bringing his hand to his side. “Even if this ‘Thing’ is still among us, we must press on and find civilization.” The crew whispered amongst themselves and gave each other distrustful, dirty looks. PJ gave Gilgamesh a quizzical look as if she wasn’t sure if he had lost his mind. “Look,” Gilgamesh explained, “If we were to hunt for this Thing, we would die. We have no more wood. Hardly any food. We would starve and freeze.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “If we take precautions, we can survive and reach town.”

“What then?” a dismembered voice in his posse spoke up.

“And what do we do now?” another voice chimed in.

Gilgamesh crossed his arms, “We don’t split up in anything less than groups of four. If it rears its ugly head, we have the chance to destroy it. As for what we’ll do…” the King paused. “It matters not,” he decreed. “Survival now is more important than the possibilities of the future.”

Everyone glared at one another, eyeing each other down. People began to step away from one another. Gilgamesh felt his eye twitch in rage.

“Enough!” he shouted, clenching his fists. “Worry not about the beast. I shall slay the insect before it claims another. However, if I see dissent amongst my ranks, I shall see to it personally that it is extinguished.” A pregnant pause filled the room. Then his men grumbled to themselves before taking a seat near the tainted fire. Gilgamesh pointed to a few members of his retinue. “You four, take the first watch. Stay distant from one another and wake the next shift in two hours,” Gilgamesh commanded. Unable to hide his exhaustion for much longer, he walked to the nearest wall, slumped to the ground, and slipped into a dream with the crackled of burning wood sending him there peacefully.

***

The morning arrived uneventfully, although members of his crew were still wary of one another. Though it couldn’t be helped, as one of their own had transformed into a monster before their very eyes. Though Gilgamesh hoped he had stamped out and thoughts of a witch-hunt before they arrived at their final destination. Though the weather was unforgiving as always, the rest of their trek was uneventful in terms of the various monstrosities.

Dragging one’s feet across the snow was exhausting, and the planet’s ‘night’ if one could call it that, was approaching. “How much longer till we reach something?” Gilgamesh mumbled to himself.

“My old town is nearby,” he could hear PJ speak up, with hesitation in her voice.

“Are you ready for a reunion, Pajamas?” Gilgamesh cracked a frost-covered smile. The harsh wind cracked his lips and coated his eyelashes.

“You know it, Gigasaurus Rex,” PJ groaned.

Almost as if on queue, small, flickering lights appeared through the snowy-fog. And after that, the shadow of a wall. Civilization. Gilgamesh sighed in relief. He waved his arm to his retinue. “Let’s go! The promise of warmth awaits us!” he cheered. Eventually, the group drew closer and witnessed the dome that was once PJ’s home. Yanking open the metal door, a burst of warm air escaped. Gilgamesh and all the others hurried in and quickly shut the door behind them. Gilgamesh was in ecstasy as the ice retreated from his hands.

This was short-lived, however, since a gun was then pointed to Gilgamesh’s face. An angry “Who are you?” and “What are you doing here?” was barked by a man in military gear. Gilgamesh was about to speak, but before he could PJ stepped up. “Stand down. They’re with me.” The soldier stood, mouth agape. “Yes, ma’am,” he stood at attention and opened the entrance to the town open.

As Gilgamesh and his crew strolled in he spoke with a half-smirk, “I didn’t know you could pull rank, Pajamas.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled. “Now we have the real problem, trying to find a way off this asinine planet.”

As if sent by God, Gilgamesh heard something that perked his ears.

“Come Sign-Up for Dante’s Abyss! Spectators and Competitors welcome!” he heard an enthusiastic voice shout.

“No,” Gilgamesh’s voice trailed off.

“Given to you by the one and only Karl Jak! Think of the glory, the gold!” The voice continued.

“It can’t be. Is it really here?” the Monarch shook his head in disbelief.

“What is it?” PJ asked, but her words fell on deaf ears. Before she could ask again, Gilgamesh took off towards the caller’s voice. Through the bustling crowd, Gilgamesh eventually found a booth, run by a suave-younger man.

The young man looked directly at him in the eyes, “You there. Wouldn’t you like to compete in Dante’s Abyss.” He then pursed his lips together and squinted as if trying to remember something before it struck him like a brick. PJ and the rest of his crew caught up to him. “Oh my god. Gilgamesh. The Golden Tyrant! You’re a fan favorite.” He paused, “Well, a fan favorite to hate.”

Gilgamesh cringed a little at the statement. He wouldn’t let the opinions of sheep affect him. The man stood up from his seat and rushed up with a clipboard in his hand. “Would you like your shot at redemption in the newest Dante’s Abyss?” The man raised his eyebrow and extended a pen.

“That hellhole of nothing more than pain and strife,” Gilgamesh sneered.

“Yeah that's the one! See, you remember!” the man gleefully continued. “Think of the prize. The glory for when you show everyone who’s King. Pun intended.”

The thought of seeing Karl Jak’s face when he, Gilgamesh, would win the whole thing left him with a giddy smile on his face. Though he shook his head to bring him back to reality. He turned to his crew and let out a sigh. “Although I would love to show Karl once and for all how powerful I am, I have other responsibilities to take care of.” He nodded at the man and turned to leave, satisfied with the knowledge that Karl was here on this plane as well.

“What are those responsibilities? I’m sure Syntech can take care of all of your problems.” The man continued with his forced smile.

Gilgamesh stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head. He hadn’t realized that he had found the solution to his problems. He turned around and stood, with a more confident attitude. “I forget how powerful Karl is. I suppose then it would be no problem to provide my friends passage on this icy planet.”

The man’s eyes darted from Gilgamesh to the crew behind him as if he had noticed them for the first time. “Karl is a powerful man but you may be overestimating his generosity,” he cheered, that creepy smile never fading from his face.

“What did you tell me earlier?” Gilgamesh toyed with the man, “That I’m everyone’s favorite villain. I’m sure that Syntech can afford a few spaceship tickets to guarantee a better show,” he snided.

The man handed Gilgamesh the clipboard and pen, “I’ll see what I can do.” Already accustomed to the questions the Syntech had asked, Gilgamesh quickly filled out the form.

“Now if you’d please step on the platform,” the syntech employee grinned.

“Karl Jak, I’ll show---” and in a flash of light, Gilgamesh had been cut off and teleported off of Inverxe.

For the first time, the Syntech agent let down his happy facade and let out a sigh, “Asshole.”

 

[The Future Warrior]

After she had departed from the odd garage, Ashe had spent no small amount of time simply...existing.

No set destination or goal in mind, she had just wandered. Doing her best to remain unobtrusive as well as her size allowed, and remain out of trouble and avoid being a nuisance. It was not the easiest task in such a large and well-populated city, but far from impossible.

More than once she had inadvertently caused some small problem or other, and been roped into helping fix it by the general angry air of the one wronged by it. Not that she ever really minded or opposed such a thing, given her lack of anything really better to do. And it did provide some...interesting insights into the way of the city, and a keen learning experience.

At least...in a given manner of speaking.

She had managed discover that this world was called Erde Nona. This city was Arcadia, and had once been the capital.

History of such a degree was largely unimportant to her, and she cared enough only to file it away as passing information should it become relevant.

It took longer than two days to fully complete her repairs, even with her minimal activity and devoting all excess power to the healing and recovery process. There was far more damage than had been reported on her readouts and diagnostics. It was worrying, given that it made one thing very clear to her: her internal scanners and sensors were not foolproof, or even close to it. They had completely failed to report on something as important as her power core being damage. And given the proportion of recovery it had displayed, it had been grievously damaged. At less than 50% capacity, given how much of it went to simply sustaining her regular functions and the slowed pace of repair.

Perhaps that damage in and of itself was the reason for the lack of full damage readouts. She was far from an expert in her own internal makeup. but it made it not even slightly less worrying.

* * *

Four days after her original meeting with Okuyasu and the unexpected assistance with her repairs, she had taken a seat for the moment. The days had been what most would call boring, she supposed, but an uneventful time after the horrid stress of the last two planets was a welcome change. It made her grateful she did not sleep as most did; she simply knew she would be haunted for many years by the events in the depths of that haunted ship...

She was drawn out of dwelling on such negative prospects by a commotion nearby. Slowly her eye swiveled over toward the scene. Some sort of wooden building...or at least it looked like it was made of wood, but she strongly suspected it wasn't. Positively brimming with activity, and no small presence of camera (and painstakingly obscure and nonchalant security) all focused in, on and around it. The labeling on it all was 'Syntech', which she could only assume was the company overseeing it.

It wasn't hard to overhear all the chaos and excitement surrounding the place. Piecing anything coherent together out of it was where the challenge lay -- some kind of great convention or gathering of some sort, she managed to piece together after no small amount of time and effort. A very famous event, which seemed to take place on....a comet? Or was it a meteor? It seemed to travel through this region of space every year. Such a regular schedule for a celestial body was baffling to her, but she wisely chose to just let it go as she had so many other things since waking up here.

The risk of burning out her processors trying to solve it did not appeal to her.

More than the bizarre convention, however, was the other event she could catch whispers of. Some kind of special event set center-stage among it all. Snippets here and there of prizes...and of some kind of huge survival game.

Curious.

The prize itself was barely enticing to her. But the concept itself... It might just be the key to getting more of her dormant functions kickstarted again, if it was at all an arduous experience. Weighing and debating her options in this matter was a process that took a number of hours, before she finally reached a conclusion.

She hauled herself upright, and plodded her way toward the still-large gathering. The light rumble in the ground her simple paces caused drew attention readily, and the excited noise of the crowd lulled slightly as she reached its edges. Peering over them all, and then down at them, she simply peered curiously in silence. After a few tense seconds she was ignored again, and the usual thrum of chaos resumed.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! You!" A voice suddenly called out, piercing through and rising above the general hub-bub and chatter around with surprising ease. "Heeey! Yeah, you; the big giant lady!" It drew Ashe's eye over the crowd, peering curiously for its source...and she didn't have to search long, for its owner was positively bouncing up and down in place behind a counter, waving a hand excitedly in her direction.

The eager display couldn't help but draw the towering war machine right to it, and she slowly picked her way through the crowd, which quickly parted upon sensing her continuing motion. Once near to the excited one, Ashe slowly dropped down to a knee, crouching to get a closer look at them. Female. And bearing an odd resemblance to....something canine. A corgi, perhaps. A tail, not difficult to gather as belonging to her, waved in a furry blur behind her. "Heya! You're really big."

"Yes. That is correct," Ashe stated in response. It was a simple fact, after all.

"Are you plannin' to join Dante's Abyss? Cause if you're not, you really shooouuuuld!" She smiled widely, not even pausing for Ashe to interject before continuing. "'Cause I can tell just by lookin' at you, you'd do great on camera. Heck, it'd be hard not for you to, considering you'd be all over 'em, big as you are!"

"......" The war machine was silent, just staring down at the odd canine woman. Just after a pause long enough to be almost uncomfortable, she finally spoke up again. "Dante's Abyss. That is the event at the center of this....convention?"

"Yep yep!" She nodded quickly. "That's the one. It's a big deal, everyone loves it! I hear there's even been a couple old favorites spotted around to participate this year, so it's gonna be extra exciting!"

".....then yes. I am here to sign up for this event." Ashe's voice continued to lack any clear excitement, but it had at least lost some traces of its flat, dull tone.

"Uh...great! So, here's a couple things you should proooobably check out!" And she fished out several papers in a small bundle, offering them up. "Aaaand a couple forms to make sure you fill out before the deadline. But you can do that whenever!"

"Understood." She took the papers as they were presented, and veeeery carefully so as not to tear them she quickly flipped through them. With all the speed of someone riffle-shuffling a deck of cards, she had completed the task. "This event is not without its risks," she noted. "Though the prizes seem to match the danger."

"Wow. You read fast!" The corgi was, to her credit, only taken aback for the briefest of moments. "But yep! Lotta risk, lotta reward! Whenever you're ready, let's just get you to step up here and head inside. They'll get you all situated and signed up!"

"Understood." She turned aside and proceeded toward the building in question. The doors were a momentary issue, but one she navigated with more ease than usual. She had gotten frustratingly used to squeezing through human-sized apertures of late.

Inside, there was a considerable line. But her patience was equally considerable, and the wait was one she endured without complaint.

At the front, when she finally made it there, she was ushered up onto a large stage which was littered with cameras pointing at it. It groaned worryingly under her weight, but held up without further complaint. Impressive.

"Alright, big girl. Let's have your name, and show us what you can do!" a voice rang out beyond the glare of lights bombarding the stage.

She was unperturbed. "My designation is Ashe-0," she said. Despite putting in no more effort than usual, her voice rang out clearly as if at full shout. It had a deep impact to it, which was exactly what was intended. "I am a war machine. Intended for search-and-destroy operations, to leave nothing standing." She peered intently at the central camera. "I think it wise to not display my capabilities here, and leave them a surprise for the actual event."

"Ooooh. Spooky," there was an amused tone from the same speaker as before. "Right, then. And who's your target this time? Who are you gonna 'search' for?"

She paused at that, carefully considering her words. Logically, she had no answer to that. She had no target. But it was a survival game, so...

"The other entrants."

That drew a series of quiet mumbling, some in amusement and others in approval, before she was quickly shooed away and shuffled off the stage. "Great, super, fantastic. We got all we need from you now; let's get you to the event proper! Just step up into the line there."

Her lack of enthusiasm remained as profound as ever, as the android parked herself in the rear of another line. This one, thankfully, seemed to move along much quicker. She reached the front, and was directed to "Just step on the circle, would ya?" by an impressively monotone-voiced technician.

"Affirmative."

She did so, and didn't even have time to turn around and voice a question before there was a crackle of energy, a flash of light, and she was gone.

 

[Orion]

A huge castle loomed on the horizon. Cream coloured with waffle roofs on its towers, Ellie was certain it was made from assorted desserts as well. It had remained on the horizon for some time despite the length of their trip. This world had so much to offer, it seemed. Trudging off forever to see a princess that may or may not appreciate Ellie’s presence was beginning to feel like a waste of her time.

The banana guards led her through a copse of trees and into a small clearing. A number of booths had been set up, each with lines of candy people waiting to be served. The diversity of these dessert people was astonishing; candy canes, gobstoppers, donuts, wafer biscuits, milkshakes, fudge squares... all with faces and limbs, standing around like normal people. It was like a cartoon.

Above each booth there was the word ‘Syntech’ in bold blue letters. Ellie frowned. What was this? This didn’t seem to be part of this delicious world. In fact, it looked like many stalls she would normally see at a physics convention.

The lack of a candy aesthetic to the booths piqued her curiosity. She had to know what was going on there. The banana guards still walked in front, every so often looking back at her to make sure she was compliant. She doubted they would be difficult to lose.

As they walked past the closest booth, Ellie took in the length of the lines. It seems a great many of these candy people were interested in these booths. She sighed. She hated waiting. Maybe it wouldn’t be worth it after all.

Ellie noticed the gumball person being served had finished and started to walk away. A devious thought flashed through her mind and Ellie smirked. She made a fist with her left hand, activating her Elorium Gauntlet, the blue lights glowing softly. As the next candy person in line walked forward to be served, a human-sized apple pie, Ellie thrust her hand forward and opened it. In that same second, she Skipped, swapping places with the apple pie, leaving no hint of movement other than a fast fading white-blue light.

The light of the Skip must have caught the attention of the banana guards. They turned around, staring at a confused apple pie.

“Wait! Wasn’t she a human before?” one guard asked.

“Yeah!” the other said. “Oh no, wait! Maybe she’s changing shape and trying to trick us!”

“What?” the apple pie said, arms thrust at their sides. “What is going on? How’d I get here? I’m not a human!”

“That’s exactly what a shapechanging human would want us to think!” one of the banana guards said, seizing the apple pie by an arm. The other banana guard followed suit, hoisting their new captive off the ground. Its legs whirred about uselessly.

“This is an outrage!” the apple pie shouted as the banana guards carried them off. “I’m not a human! Put me down this instant!”

Ellie snorted. There was a giddy thrill that came with getting up to mischief, especially if she got away with it scot-free.

“Next!”

Ellie turned to the Syntech booth. A young man with a comb over and a security card dangling on a lanyard from his neck gestured for her to approach. Ellie strolled up to the booth and put her left hand down on the table.

“So! What’s this all about?” she asked, staring the man in the eyes.

He began his pitch, apparently having been too caught up in his work to see Ellie’s switcheroo. “This is the sign up booth for Dante’s Abyss, the most exciting and revolutionary game of survival to ever be televised!”

“Survival, eh?” Ellie said. She was nothing if not a thrill junkie. “Go on.”

The man’s eyes lit up, apparently excited at the prospect of someone interested in what he was selling. “Yes! Dante’s Abyss tasks competitors with surviving by themselves on an island, dodging all manner of threats and dangers, while at the same time trying to eliminate each other! It’s the ultimate rush!”

Ellie’s anticipation grew. Any type of competition got her excited, and the more difficult the better. “What sort of danger can I expect if I sign up?”

“Well, you must find shelter, ration your food and water supplies, avoid injuries, and outlast your competitors to come out on top! Of course...” The man coughed, lowering his voice, “...the other people on the island are your biggest threats.”

Ellie cocked an eyebrow. “Why so serious all the sudden?”

The man sighed. “This is where we lose a lot of potential sign-ups. In order to win this competition, or even get out alive, you’ll need to... kill the other contestants. There’s also a chance that you might die as well.”

Ellie furrowed her brow. Murder wasn’t an activity she actively sought out, and it wasn’t often pleasant on the rare times she had been involved in it. Plus the chance that she herself could be killed wasn’t appealing. But such cautious thoughts were infrequent in Ellie’s mind, and they found themselves being submerged beneath the potential excitement the situations would bring. Dodging swinging knives and diving away from gunfire? Defeating a foe with her intelligence and cunning with everything on the line? That appealed to her very much.

It would also give her an opportunity to test a valuable function of her Elorium Gauntlet.

“Pretty straight talking for something so grim,” Ellie said. “I give you points for honesty. But I wonder... do people have ways of coming back from the dead?”

The man frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out as he caught Ellie’s raised eyebrow. “I... uh... sure? I mean, yes, I’m sure some... all of the contestants have some way of resurrecting. I mean, why else would someone enter such a tournament? Right?”

As much as Ellie was playing this up, there was probably some truth to his words. She had a backup. Why was it impossible to think that other people didn’t? Hell, she was standing in a world of literal candy. She had warped through space and time. What really constituted possible?

Ellie nodded. “That makes sense to me. But with all this danger, I expect there is some sort of wonderful prize at the end?”

The man nodded eagerly, apparently seeing a chance to sign up a new recruit. “Oh yes! It’s being kept a secret right now, but rest assured it will be beyond your wildest dreams!”

Prizes as well? How could she say no?

“You know what? I will sign up!” Ellie said. “Show me where to sign my life away!”

The man handed her a clipboard with a form attached and a pen, his face beaming. “Fill this out and we’ll have you on your way to Dante’s Abyss!”

Ellie ran her eyes over the form. She placed the pen on the booth counter. “I won’t need that.”

She laid the form down and lifted her left arm, pressing on her gauntlet. A holographic screen rose, shining from the large blue orb on the back of her hand. A moment later it fuzzed and became solid. Ellie pressed and swiped the screen of dense light, then leaned forward over the form. A flash of yellow light lit up the form and in its wake, all fields of the form had been filled out, the answers burned into the paper.

Ellie smiled. “You’d be surprised how often I get asked the same questions over and over.”

“Very impressive! Now if you’ll stand on the teleporter to my side, we’ll get you to Dante’s Abyss!”

A cylindrical glass tube stood beside the booth. The door hissed open and the man motioned for Ellie to enter. She shrugged and walked in, the door sealing behind her.

This is going to be fun.

 

[Roy Mustang]

Roy mustang stood with his arms crossed, tapping a finger impatiently against his forearm. The line stretched nearly around the block, packed tight with all manner of cyborgs, drifters, and fools. Roy looked among them with a frown. The idea that so many people would be eager to enter such a morbid contest gnawed at his brain in a way he could ill afford. He knew well why they stood in line to die. When desperation grows severe, when you reach the breaking point, even the faintest promise is enough to hang yourself with.

To their credit, it appeared that Syntech was not simply looking for any blood they could get their hands on. For every potential contestant that was ushered into the tent behind the stands, several more were rejected out of hand, sulking away into the early morning light. They were the lucky ones, though they likely did not realize it. A death match with some of the Crossroads most dangerous murderers? it would take more than a prosthetic limb or two to win such a battle, and very few of them would have the slightest chance of revivification when they failed. A man who could afford such insurance would not be attempting this gambit in the first place.

"Ooo! Grab that guy with the military uniform!"

The shrill voice stirred Mustang from his contemplation. The woman approaching him had a series of cybernetic modifications built into her head, ridges arcing back along her bare cranium perhaps evocative of hair. The ridges glowed with neon lights, cycling through the color spectrum as she reached out a metal-plated arm to pull Mustang out of the line.

"And you're a looker to boot! That'll help with ratings, just try not to get hit in the face too much out there, yeah? That's your money maker. One side, meatheads!" The woman flashed a Syntech badge to several scowling candidates, dragging Mustang along with her to the front of the line.

The two of them stopped beside the booth, a small bald old man with drooping eyebrows glanced up from the form, adjusting spectacles as he examined Mustang with a faint humming.

"This one's special, got an official endorsement and whatnot from 'The Man'." the woman said, miming quotation marks. "Plus! Check out his smolder! Bet he'd look great on a calendar."

Mustang grinned, slightly off-balance with the whole situation. "Well I'm flattered, you're not so bad yourself. This the place to sign up for The Abyss, right?"

"That's right, sonny." the old man said after a moment, humming to himself as he filled out a form. "name?"

"Roy Mustang... Major." he added hastily, almost as an afterthought. The man looked up from his form with a distinct air of disapproval, staring Mustang down as he crossed out the line and grabbed another paper from his stack.

"That you're last name? Or an honorific? Or..." the old fellow began to drone, but the woman cut him off.

"He's in the military, that's his rank, probably. Wait, doesn't that make you an officer?" she looked slightly surprised at Mustang's nod of affirmation, "I was gonna suggest you ditch the uniform once you're done with the photoshoots, but maybe not. You got a sleek angle going here!"

"Perhaps I'm in the wrong place." Mustang said, regarding her with a hint of sarcasm, "I'm looking for the interplanetary wargame hosted by Syntech?"

"Well, yeah. But nobody get's anywhere in life with an ugly mug." The woman replied without missing a beat, "If you can't get the viewers to root for you then it's only a matter of time before..."

"What's your name?" The old man spoke again, this time over top of their conversation. The question had only the slightest semblance of interest at this point, his patience clearly already thin.

"Roy Mustang. I'm a Major." the state alchemist said, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

"What are you bringing to this event? Don't tell me, tell the camera." The instructions came in a single breath. Mustang turned to follow his pointed hand, smirking as he faced the array of waiting lenses.

"It's maybe not in the best taste, but I'll bring the heat." Mustang held a gloved fist up to his uniform with a cocky grin. The old man burst out in a fit of laughter as Roy was ushered away to the teleporters by another attendant. The woman looked at him slightly confused.

"So, is he just eye candy then? I guess he's got military training?" she pondered, idly glancing at the line of hopeful entrants waiting.

"Eh. The military just wanted to send a real killer in. Wanna show what they've got on their payroll." The old man replied, already humming again. "Any normal fellow wouldn't be that composed after signing their life away."

 

[Jester Lavorre]

When Mugen rolled out of bed at dawn he found company scarce in the barracks save for the changing shifts of patrolmen - those returning for patrol, and those setting out for it. He took his morning leak, a particularly long one due to his indulgence in drink the day previous, and snagged something for breakfast from the mess before setting out.

Today was the day. All through New Abraxas sign-up booths punctuated the regular comings and goings of the make-shift capitol.

Fog hung dense in the morning air, and the sun hadn't quite woken up all the way. The streets were dim and the passers-by were few, though there were some other early risers gravitating towards the booths in addition to the few working class populace trundling sleepily towards their places of employment. It struck Mugen how shackled they were even here in the far reaches of the universe on a planet covered in jungle...somehow society still insisted on limiting its people to proving themselves through their professions. That kind of daily grind was in stark opposition to everything Mugen believed in.

The line was short to the sign-up booth, but it gave the lanky samurai time enough for a taste of his sake flask. Today, unlike yesterday, he would not pickle himself with the stuff. He would resort only to only a few sips throughout the day to soften his edges.

Mugen was not the sort to train. He could count only a handful of situations serious enough - powerful bounties, or rivals with Yokai-strength - that had driven him to progress himself. He was perfectly happy to maintain the level of physical excellence he considered himself to have achieved and never climb above that, and he was even happier to leave his rough-shod personality untouched by the tainted influence of self-improvement. To admit that he needed to get better was to decide that he wasn't already good enough. ...and he was way more than good enough.

This competition was a slight exception. For this, Mugen compromised, and determined that he would reduce his drinking in the days preceding the challenge. After all...there wouldn't be sake on the island.

A few unremarkable competition consignees later, the swordsman found himself at the front of the line.

He stood before an old man with a drooping mustache who lurked behind a bizarre looking device on a tripod with a glass lens. It made a low noise indicative of some kind of electrical activity...leaning in suspiciously, Mugen took one more measured sip of his flask and eyed the lens warily. His retina was inches from the glass.

"Sir...SIR. That camera is rolling," complained the mustachio'd interviewer. The old man gave a sigh that belonged to those steeped in a task full of tedium. "Could you please step back a few feet!?"

Unwilling to be told what to do but responding subconsciously to the commanding irritation in the old man's voice, Mugen took a couple of steps back. His bony finger pointed at the camera, and he looked just past it at its operator.

"You trying to tell me this thing is rolling, old man?" the sword slinging samurai demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes! Since before you began imbibing yourself! Now please, state for the viewers what may set you apart from the competition."

In the dusky light of the early morning, Mugen gave the camera his most sinister grin.

"I've done my fair share of killing," he informed the faceless, shapeless audience in a cold tone. "Murdering for money's the closest thing to a job I'll do."

He fingered the hilt of his sword.

The old man clicked something off on the camera, seeming content to have gotten the most manageable pieces of footage he was going to get out of Mugen, and sighed with relief.

"CUT!"

One of his liver-spotted hands drew back a length of fabric dangling from the booth that revealed a raised platform...it too gave off the low hum of electrical activity. Before he knew what was happening, Mugen was being pushed onto the platform by the exasperated elder.

"Now off and away with you," mused the elder.

"What do y-"

The old man tugged a large switch Mugen hadn't noticed before, and there was a sudden lurching sensation the samurai was unfamiliar with. The colors of shapes of early dawn New Abraxas morphed into a shapeless blur, and everything began to spin.

...then he was gone.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The waves of orgasmic delight had yet to leave his nerves. Normally, Malloki would just laze in the sensation of a well played game. This time was different; there was another game to begin. Eyes rolled down to focus on the ship’s blood drenched crew and other attendees. Of all the ocean in Opaelon, how lucky was it for Malloki to land upon the starting line of a new game?

Bare feet slapped against the cleaner parts of the deck, squished in others. Malloki had to resist the urge to splash primarily in the puddles he had helped create. “Salutations!” He greeted with a polite wave. He thought he might as well put on a nice smile and professional attitude. Maybe they didn’t notice the carnage?

They did, of course. They noticed quite a bit about this man-once-puddle. In turn, Malloki noticed a bit about the crew as well. Most of them wore matching uniforms with similar logos. Those that did not wore at the very least badges to reflect their current employment. It seemed that some of the employees were temporarily hired locals to help with the application process.

Immediately after the bright deduction, Malloki released an untimely giggle as a particularly sharp bone shard stabbed into the bottom of his foot.

No. Focus!

“I’m here to sign up for this Dante’s Inferno game!” He chimed with glee.

“You mean… Dante’s Abyss?” The question came from an older man behind a desk. He was in the process of wiping off the splattered brainmatter from a stack of applications and muttering a request to his assistant for more copies from below deck. “Well, you’re in luck.”

“We normally ask the contestants what they can bring, but the cameras were rolling for the… previous contestant…” He gestured to a sobbing mass buried beneath the half-remains of one of the islanders. Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?” The gesturing hand turned towards a camera where he simply flicked a bit of goo that hung over the lens.

“Right-O!” With a sharp turn, Malloki turned his wide eyes into the Camera and revealed that truly manic grin. “Malloki Tuwile! I love games!” Like a child picking up his favorite toy, the man leans down to pluck boot near his own foot. Tipping it over in front of the camera, the mangled, crushed foot nearly sloshed out. “And even when I lose, I always win.”

The older gent with a “My name is Gary” nametag just deadpanned at Malloki. It would seem he had seen it all before. Just another psychotic mess making literal messes anywhere and everywhere he goes. “Thank you for that opening statement. We have a few forms for you to fill out, including a waver which you will be expected to complete in full.”

An assistant offered a red dyed paper package with a quivering hand. This young woman could not be more than a year out of her teens. She, apparently, had not seen it all before. Malloki was a monster in her eyes and she was glad she was not participating in this event.

With a polite bow completely misconstrued as a curtain call to the nightmare of a performance, Malloki exited stage right. He chose one of the empty seats that had formed a puddle of goo with the least amount of solid bits. The feel of once-people squishing betwixt his bare cheeks was an uncomfortably delightful experience.

Most of the paperwork was straight forward, with everything else being filled in via illegible scribbles to appear somewhat complete. In essence, the bloodied mess was back up and practically dancing over to the table with the complete form in record time. Gary expected no less of the eager warmonger.

The man pointed with a sigh towards a small door labeled Transporter. “Through that door. Stand on the circular pad and make sure all of your limbs are inside the yellow circle. Wouldn’t want you going into the games with a missing limb.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t that make it EXTRA fun?”

Gary just stared at Malloki with the look of Why do I even bother? “Right. Well. It’s protocol to mention such things. Please make your way quickly to the transport, we need to clean up before we can proceed with the other contestants.”

Ahh, I should really stay to clean up my play area! The Good Doctor always hates when his toys are left messy… The thought of scalpels covered in blood and other grime came to mind. “If you--”

“No. Please proceed to the next area for transport. We have everything covered.” Gary’s voice was both firm yet exasperated. “Thank you for your application. We have everything from here.”

Oh well. With a delighted smile, Malloki stepped into a pile of goopy mess and pushed off. He slid most of the way before having to walk to the door. With a flourish to throw it open, he stepped inside and into the circle.

…. Maybe just one finger. Slowly he lifted a hand towards the edge, pinky finger extended. Before he could dismember himself, Malloki was assaulted by a weightless sensation and flash of lights. His eyes closed for just a brief second. When they opened, he was in a whole new location with all fingers intact.

One peek at his fingers left Malloki deeply disappointed. “Aww, man.”

 

[Jak]

After another night of literally screwing off in an illegal racing bar and a relaxing training session with his newly found pal, Daxter. Both of them traded high fives as the ottsel walked with Jak toward the gaudy looking tent.

“So this is where they sign you up, huh, Jak?”

Mar was awkwardly silent for the time being and cleared his throat “Yeah, Daxter, just like every year.”

The eco warrior moved toward the tent as a man looked bored out of his mind, waiting for the next challenger in the famed Dante’s Abyss competition. Oops, I meant Dante’s Comet.

The man looked up from having his hand on his cheek, he checked his watch a bit before yawning “Yeah? Are you here to sign up for Dante’s Abyss?”

Jak smirked “Of course I am, just… not Daxter.”

The ottsel fidgeted with his goggles on his head, fixing them to look for the television cameras. He knew the pictures were coming.

“Name?”

Jak turned toward the cameras flashing “Name’s simply Mar.”

“Huh? Wait.. hold on, uh huh, yeah..”

“Oh! You must be the infamous Dante’s Abyss long eared man named Dynamite kid, right? Your reputation follows you everywhere, you know.”

Mar made a wincing face at the nickname he’d earned during Dante’s Abyss 15’. He remembered killing a lot of folks with just dynamite in his hands.

Daxter placed a hand on his friend’s back “Huh? I thought you’d soak up the fame that came with that name, “Mar” as once Daxter mentioned Jak, it would bring cameras to his face.”

The eco warrior rubbed his neck, rather shying away from the attention many people gave him.

Daxter smirked, rolling in the fame “Yeah, that’s right folks, Dynamite kid is here to stay! We are coming!”

The eco warrior sighed and pulled Daxter from the picture crew “Dax, find a place to watch me and make some noise for me, got it buddy?”

Daxter screamed “HELL YEAH!”

Once Daxter turned to pretend to go away, Jak felt more confident to walk up to the man and describe his reasons for being here.

“Name’s Jak, Son of Damas, Prince of the House of Mar.”


“I’m here because fame entices me and the excitement of the crowd begs me to continue what I’m doing.”

The man sighed “Good luck, Dynamite Kid.” Mar shook his head “Dynamite man. Get it right.”

The knife eared eco-warrior stepped onto a familiar transport pad and watched himself get whisked away from Daxter, yet again.

The ottsel smirked as he yelled “GO JAK! GO DYNAMITE MAN!”

 

[Victor Wolfe]

Leaving the eldritch temple behind, the emperor scanned his city from atop the pyramid, taking in the sight of the mix of architecture, from the stone and golden dwemer houses and gates, to the white marble steps leading up to the replica of Gilgamesh’s palace. He had met some old friends and made some new; his vision for the future was coming together in front of his very eyes and few roadblocks remained.


What Victor did not expect to find was another set of new arrivals so soon after the last. Observing the city below, he could clearly see a tent being set up in the town square. A queue of people had formed, waiting to find out what this new and exciting addition to their town was trying to peddle to them. Speed-walking towards the tent, Victor noticed some familiar initials and corporate branding, the blue logo of a certain carbonated product he considered the epitome of diabetes in a can, and the initials that Victor cringed to see again. DA.


Dante’s Abyss.


A scowl forming on his face, Victor turned pointedly away from the tent and began to head towards the palace and the feast that awaited him. He let out a sigh. This year, the fools that wished to chase Mr. Jak’s promises of riches and fame could all die without the assassin’s help. Dante’s Abyss had been the start of many a problem for the Nippurian state, and this time around he would not be drawn away to allow a disaster to befall his people once again. The last thing New Babylon needed was to be making powerful enemies over their leader’s actions in the yearly tropical island deathathon.


“Oh, Victooooorrrrrrrrr!”


Victor winced as another nuisance that had long outlived their usefulness appeared to hinder his trip back to the palace. Turning to face the source of the call, Victor felt his will to live drain from his very being like blood being drawn out through a syringe. The person he had made Military General of Nippur was now being carried on a palanquin by eight of her most loyal soldiers, the elevated chair appearing lavishly decorated and altogether far too big-headed. The soldiers were likely the very same that he had read about in the reports: General Ahana’s elite guard. The ones tasked with investigating the missing miners… which had, puzzlingly, only lead to more missing miners. Their glares drilled holes into the emperor.


“Good afternoon to you General Ahana, and your... shirtless, aggressive, bald men?” Victor drawled, making direct eye contact with each of them. “Please, boys, direct that killing intent somewhere else. I feel embarrassed from all the attention.”


The comment clearly took the death squad by surprise, as they soon found other places to turn their attention.


“So, will our brave, fearless leader be entering this tournament that everyone is talking about?” The bunny girl had a sparkle in her eyes. That little spark of cunning almost succeeded in creating the illusion that there was something behind those scheming eyes, as if there was something resembling a coherent plan forming in the mind of someone who he had previously believed was in possession of the smoothest of brains. Shaking off the notion that someone like Ahana could somehow, as if by magic, develop competence, Victor deliberately shook his head.


“Unfortunately, no. I cannot afford to leave things here on their own for too long; after all, I have far too many irons in the fire as it is My experience with this particular event in the past has proven that things tend to go horribly awry when too many individuals of below-average intelligence are involved. Speaking of… why are you not jumping at the bit to participate? Surely this would be an ideal venue to test out your powers, see if anyone can actually hurt you, perhaps inflict untold suffering with zero consequence? Seems to be right up your alley... plus, think of the glory you could win us!” Victor said with a grin, planning to cajole the bunny girl into departing He was eager to avoid needing to plan around her constant cavalcade of diplomatic incidents.


“No, seems like a lot of work when I can accomplish two of those three things here,” Ahana said, and then paused for a moment as the emperor’s eyes narrowed to slits, his head cocked to the side.


“Oh really? And what have you been doing that allows you to perform, what was it again? Two of those three actions...? To examine your own words further, are you saying that you have been able to test out your powers and inflict torment? Because other than my own daggers, I have not received any reports of anything else being able to seriously hurt you. And I have not heard any reports pertaining to military incidents... why, it almost sounds like you have been testing out your abilities on the citizenry!”


Ahana spluttered, the rabbit ears on her head flattening in sudden unease.


“Of course not! Why, I just forgot to file the reports, it’s a big border to guard so we don’t report every little skirmish! Just some of those black monsters and mind flayers! Crushed them to death in the name of Nippur!” Ahana blurted out, desperately attempting to cover her tracks.


Victor hummed, eying the rabbit girl and her entourage closely. “Mm. We might need to have a word about this at a later point, dearest general. I would be very interested to find out exactly how much you have not mentioned in your reports. Perhaps after this feast, we can have a long discussion in private. I might even need to have private discussions with each of your men, too, to make sure we get a concrete report!”


Ahana and the crew carrying her started to sweat-- and not from the volcanic heat that filled the cavern, either. The twinkle in Ahana’s eyes implying a level of higher thought returned as she softly coughed, putting on her best polite act. “We can have that discussion, but I am surprised that our glorious emperor is not entering this tournament, as surely it would be a good chance to show not only our people but the entire Crossroads what you can do. After all, as our big shot leader shouldn’t you lead by example and show what you can do against more than nameless mooks?”


Ahana challenged him with a smug grin. The debate between the emperor and his leading general had attracted a sizable crowd, the gathered onlookers whispering as they watched. Ahana’s voice grew louder to play up to the crowd. “Why, for someone who has travelled dimensions, and is ostensibly such a powerhouse, it should be easy to finish highly in such an event, no matter the challenge. Although, if you are too frightened at the prospect, perhaps I thought too highly of your abilities.”


A cold sweat rolled down the back of Victor’s neck as his eyes darted to the crowd and back to the bunny girl on her portable throne. Not only was she challenging his authority and power, but the abominable rodent was doing it in front of a crowd. He had underestimated his foe and walked straight into her trap; if he backed out he would be seen as a coward, and if he entered he could suffer a similar fate to all those years ago, a lucky punch and then strangled to death, a pathetic fate. Whichever path he chose, his reputation and the fear and respect he used to rule could be damaged. It was a devastating quandary for Victor, the equivalent of a snake turning to bite into its own tail to prove its ferocity.


His heart pounded, his breath quickening as his head seemed to spin, time slowing as he thought over the situation. Fear and panic burned throughout his veins for the first time since he had left his homeworld. Never had he faced a question he could not answer.


Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Victor mentally struggled with the one question that had constantly plagued his mind since taking on the mantle of emperor. What would Gilgamesh do?


Unfortunately, Victor knew the answer to that question. The noble golden king would never back down from such a brazen challenge, especially when it was made by someone as infuriating as Ahana. With a sigh, Victor amped himself up, slapping his cheeks. His red eyes turned up, seeming to glow with some inner fire as he stared into Ahana’s.


“You know what, you are right,” said Victor, much to Ahana’s chagrin. “I plan on at least making it into the top nine this year. After all, given the circumstances, I might meet some old friends… or perhaps those that require introducing to the business end of my knife. That insufferable Mickey Mouse might even be there.”


Victor froze for a second, all dialogue ceasing abruptly. If Karl Jak was up to his usual tricks, then there was the possibility that not only would the best pin cushion in the world be attending, but perhaps some other individuals of interest. Perhaps even...


Victor shook his head. He had all but given up hope of meeting his former master in this world, and even then it would likely just be one of this world’s cheap imitations.


“I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day,” stated Victor, growing more emboldened by his own words. “I will be attending this event in the interest of obtaining new allies, and if I do find them, putting our state’s old enemies to the sword. Perhaps I will need Sigmund to help with this task. Of course, that would mean that for a temporary time, you will be in charge. Your chief priority in my absence will be to keep our people safe, naturally.”


Victor said this with a knowing grin, internally jeering as Ahana maintained eye contact.


“Of course I will, hurting our people is my least favourite thing to do,” Ahana lied.


Shaking his head, Victor walked away from the procession as he pulled his data device out, summoning Dave the guard to his location and sending off some messages to his other companions. He was sure to explain his plan to Sigmund and Cho, requesting that they both sign up and meet him inside the lobby area.


Whilst waiting he proceeded to summon up a small desk, quill, and paper. Taking a moment to think out the words he would need to use, Victor wrote up two letters in his finest handwriting, placing them both in envelopes and summoning a red wax seal over them. Reaching into his inside pocket, he removed a stamp and sealed each letter with the wolf's head, the official stamp of the former diplomatic branch of Nippur.


At that very moment, Dave announced his presence. Victor looked up to see him, pleased.


“Ah, good timing. I need you to deliver a letter for me. Know that it is very important that this reaches the right person; no one else is to see this letter and no one else is to know of it even existing. It is no lie that many lives may be at stake if this does not reach its intended target.”


Dave fidgeted, tense. “Lives are at stake for not delivering a letter, sir? That sounds... exaggerated.”


Victor only laughed, shaking his head. “Dave, my friend, you know better than most here what I can do to people that I actually like. Now imagine what I would do to someone that has failed me and harmed our reputation. Just, think about that.”


Dave let out an audible gulp as he took the letter and hid it inside one of the pouches on his belt.


“Good man. Now, deliver that to that giantess, Morag? Moron? Morene! That one, after that I feel that things will work themselves out quite nicely for us. In fact, once you do that, take a vacation. One of my subjects following simple orders is such a novel concept that you will have earned it.”


With that, Victor stuffed the second letter into his inside cloak pocket and proceeded to the Dante’s Abyss sign-up desk.


Tapping each of the people in line on the shoulder as he strolled past, they started to move out of the way once they realised who was behind them, allowing Victor to proceed quickly to the front. Finding himself at the front of the booth, Victor stood proudly, chin tilted imperiously up as he made eye contact with the booth’s attendant.


“My Name is Emperor Victor Wolfe the first. What I bring to this tournament is my mischievous nature, my potential of being the best antagonist this event has seen in years, and this handsome and marketable face. Can I take the form and head to the teleporter?”


The Syntech employee handling registration froze for a moment before laughing. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of their eye, they handed the form to Victor with little fuss.


“I take it this is not your first time?”


“Honey, you have no idea,” Victor said, winking at the cameras and giving a leisurely wave as he walked off to the teleporters.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund’s quill flew across the page as he glanced between the Manic Codex and his notes. He was recording the effects of a potent hallucinogen, extracted from a mushroom and tested on himself. This, sadly, meant that the notes were far from concise.

“Cordie, how should I transcribe ‘I see everything! The gate swings wide and madness spews forth?’” He asked his subordinate. When the high priest glanced over to the chair she had been sitting in, however, she was nowhere to be seen. This was hardly a surprising development, she had a habit of vanishing when you took your eyes off her, so he turned back to his work, chewing his lip idly as he puzzled over his chaotic notes.

“Sigmund!” The priestess suddenly cried, wobbling dangerously as she apparatated on top of the chair. “There's a perfectly generic man in the temple!”

“Uh, noted.” Sigmund said, raising an eyebrow. “You seem far too disturbed by this.”

“He says that he's brought a gift on behalf of the Emperor.”

“Ah, that is disturbing. Tell him to wait in the main chamber, I'll be out directly.” The cultist said, repressing a little sigh as he closed his tome and shelved his notes. Sigmund made his way through the familiar halls of his temple, wondering with a vague sense of dread what Victor had in store for him. When the high priest arrived in the main chamber, he found a rather plain-looking man conversing with his eccentric subordinate.

“You look like a Dave.” Cordie said appraisingly, stroking her chin thoughtfully.

“Uh, thanks? You look like a Cordie, I guess… That's an interesting name, is it short for something?”

“It is, actually.” She replied, visibly perking up. “It's short for Discord.”

“O-Oh.” Dave said. Sigmund would have figured that after serving under Victor, anything else would pale in comparison, but he seemed decidedly uncomfortable in the temple.

“I'm here. I hope my follower wasn't bothering you.” The high priest said, grinning at Dave and extending his hand. The man took it after a moment of hesitation.

“It was no trouble, really.” He said, though he was visibly relieved at the formality. “I have something for you, from Emperor Wolfe.”

“I have heard as much.” Sigmund said, giving the man a suspicious glance. “Well, go ahead.”

Dave handed him an odd little rectangle which the cultists peered at curiously. When the high priest touched the glass side, it lit up, displaying the time, day and a text box informing Sigmund that he had an unread message from Victor. The cultist took to it quickly, with the help of a little pamphlet that Dave produced from his pocket, unlocking the Dataverse device and reading the message while the man excused himself, mumbling something about making another delivery.

“Sigmund,” the message began, “an interesting… Let's call it an opportunity, has reared its head in the middle of our humble empire. It's a lovely little death game, I'm sure you’ll enjoy it. Come to the town square and sign up in the booth that has been set up there, I'll see you on the other side. P.S. Don't bother bringing any weapons.”

“Interesting.” The high priest mumbled to himself. A death game? He didn't know what Victor was thinking, but the prospect was oddly enticing. The opportunity to see people pushed to their wits end in a raw life-and-death situation wasn't one Sigmund was often presented with and he wasn't about to pass it up.

“What does it say?” Cordie asked curiously, attempting to peer at the message over her boss’ shoulder.

“Victor wants me to participate in a death game.”

“Ooh, sounds fun.” She said, grinning eagerly with a hint of envy.

“Apparently I shouldn't be bringing a weapon, though, so can you take care of the Manic Codex for me?” Sigmund asked, holding the tome out for her. The priestess stared at the eldritch volume reverently as he handed it to her, carefully handling it as if it might break.

“I'll defend it with my life.” Cordie said. “Good luck in the death game, bring some spines back for me.”

“I'll keep it in mind.” Sigmund said as he turned to leave, making his way out of the temple and to the town square. He felt oddly light without the familiar weight of the Codex in his hands, but tried to push it out of his mind as he found himself in the town square. Just as Victor had described, a booth had been set up in the middle of the square, a curious crowd gathered around it. The cultist briefly considered waiting for the crowd to thin, but his patience quickly wore thin.

“Pardon me, empire business.” The high priest said, nudging the person in front of him. The man in front of him turned curiously before visibly paling at the sight of Sigmund’s gold and blue robes.

“Of course, high priest.” He said, stepping aside. The people in front of him, hearing the title, followed suit, letting the scion through. The booth attendee, however, had no such fear or respect for the cultist.

“Name?” They asked, hardly looking up at him.

“Sigmund Vrell, eighth Scion of Gal’skap.”

“And what will you bring to the competition?”

“I'm here to bring people slowly, inexorably to the edge of madness in this life-or-death nightmare, then drop kick them off.”

“Okay. Head on through.” The attendee sighed, jabbing their pen towards a small pad nearby. Curious, Sigmund walked over and stepped on it before the world seemed to collapse in on itself as he was sent to Dante’s Comet.

 

[Remilia Scarlet]

Mary tapped nervously at the card table beneath her as she watched the anxious men around her. The booth had been set up with a promise of greatness, only for those around seems only interested in a moment’s respite from the malaise that infected those who lived in this horrid nightmare world. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered what the manager had told her. “We need your expertise” she imagined that hollow grin of shining teeth again. “Only you have the ability to draw the talent out of the rough on Inverxe.” He had said. Now, having lived the experience for a few days, her only conclusion was that someone at Syntech wanted her dead. She had lacked any real sleep since coming here, always subtly aware of something watching her. Getting under her skin. The people here did not help in the slightest, something always slightly off about them. One constant participant arrived more desperate every time he arrived, and the muttering under his breath got worse the next day. Mary could only pray this gig ended soon, and she could get back to shuffling papers in the back room pretending to work.

Her eyes caught a sudden movement as one of the miner’s head shot to look towards one of the armored windows. Most choose to ignore the slits that looked out into the poorly atmosphere landscape, the wasteland outside only reminded the inhabitants of the looming despair of this planet and the eventual end to those who suffered it. It was bleak, to say the least, and Mary wished she didn’t have the “honor” of having a room with one. The miner stood up, glanced out into the open, and scrubbed his sole eye from his grubby fingers.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Bob?” Another of the blue colored workers asked. Bob and Kevin, two workers who arrived at the booth to “see who’d do it”. Mary suspected they were here just to talk to her out of loneliness, but what they talked about only made her wish they’d go anywhere else. It was bad enough she she only had an idea of what was out there.

“Though I saw something move out there” Bob answered, and the entire room tensed. Movement meant nothing good when it was out in the “wilds” of this blasted hellhole. Those that laxed now suddenly stood straight, the wandering eyes now focus on the man weaving in front of the glass. Whispers of doubt began to circulate between the crowd, and Mary was suddenly acutely aware that the room next to this one had an airlock.

Any flick in hope of the man’s visions being merely impaired by senility was squashed as klaxons began to sound out in the compound. Whispers became shouts and cries of dismay as people began to filter towards the safety zones, as an announcer called out the warning.“

“This is a yellow level alert please follow the signs to the designated safety zones.” He called. Mary thought back to the pamphlet she was given to her that Yellow level meant a large group was coming to the sector. Not a full on incursion, but something that could slaughter everyone here if it wormed base the defenses. “Please move in an orderly and calm manner.”

No one was calm or orderly.

The panic started to build as people got closer to the safety zone, heavily fortified rooms encased in plasteel walls and double thick blast doors. Made for protection, not for comfort. Once people were getting inside, claustrophobia settled in. Self preservation seeked to overthrow ideals of the greater good, and those already inside eyed the door’s controls in silent debate. Mary knew this could only end in tragedy, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere by here.

Strong hands grabbed her, and her imagination built something horrible in her mind. The man seeking to ask if she was okay could not get an edge in as her screams filled the air.

Dead silence followed after, terror clutched at the hearts of everyone as they feared the sound would travel and alert the horde.

What happened next left the survivors wondering if it had been an unreal dream.

The sounds of combat broke the dread, bullets scraping off of concrete. Everyone was left stunned as they heard the raging storm of gunshots outside. All but one, who took this opportunity to slam the close button down. With a woosh, the blast doors locked down, and those still in the hallways knew they were doomed. Now their only option was to wait for what stalked outside.

An explosion rocked the building, and the sound of air rushing out into space rattled. The airlock had been breached. What it was, it was inside. Gunfire grew closer, the whirlwind of combat became louder. An electric whine of a plasma weapon sounded, soon a bestial growl joined it as the battle neared. The orchestra of battle became more complete as the people huddled in the corner. They heard the splatter of meat dropping to the floor as something tore through bodies. A raging buzzing of some high power weapons scattered bone and plaster under a hail of bullets, soon followed by the methodical bark of a shotgun hammering it’s target. But it did not stop, whatever was out there did not stop, and soon no guns were heard. Only the wet crunch of melee followed suit, and those left outside the vault became disheartened as they knew the defenders could only be dead.


“There’s someone out there!” Kevin yelled, as if he knew something else. Believed, perhaps, but no man could fight toe to toe with the being that prowled the underground lairs. Kevin got up from the huddle in the corner, but he was quickly dragged back.

“Fuck you, get back down.” Teeth filtered anger rose in the man’s whisper who held Kevin, and everyone remained still again.

Flesh tore and bone snapped outside the last door, their last barrier, as if something was being torn limb from limb. A shriek pierced the violence, before the roar of a chainsaw answered back and inhabitants were shocked before everything went silent again. The pause was agonizing, all eyes on the door.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Mary asked, unsure. Hoping it was wise to hope.

“It’s a trick.” One teen answered “Get an ax.” Not that anyone here believed the fireman’s ax store in the emergency boxes would be any help here.

Soon the mounting questions were answered as a thud slammed into the door, as if something heavy was being pushed into it. A few more times more, then silence again. Until the gears of the door started to grind as it was pushed open. Hopelessness finally clawed its way until everyone, and they awaited what laid beyond the door to break through.

Before them was not some monster, but a man. Green armor slick in gore, behind him the ruined bodies of the creatures he had slain. His super shotgun broke open, spewing two spent shells out onto the floor, and a satisfying click followed as he inserted two fresh buckshot into the barrels and sealed it shut again.

“What does a guy have to do to get a cold one around here?”

---

“So, mister...” The woman in front of me trailed off again as she seemed battered by confusion in the moment. The two of us sat in the ruined Syntech stall as janitors worked to mop up my previous battle. A red slime of gore covered everything, high power weaponry didn’t give much for clean afterwork. My helmet was left to sit on the remains of a table, it’s visor glared into one of the walls where bullet marks poxed the drywall. I tried to remain steady with my responses and avoid anything flippant, but you’d be surprised how many times this situation has come up for me.

“Doomguy” I answered, and looked over the form put in front of me. It was one of the few that remained intact, only a few drops of ickor ruined a corner. I glanced it over disinterested, my other hand popped over a beer can with a flick of my thumb. I deserved that one. “Listen, I know Karl Jak has a file on me already, so go tell him to go fuck himself and let me in.”

“I’m sorry, uh, mister Doomguy-”

“Look, just call me Flynn if you’re having problems with it” I admit, my time in the Omniverse had relaxed my precaution with hiding my name.

How did I get to that point, what happened in the Omniverse, and how did I get here? Sorry, that’s a story for another time.

 

[Toga Voorhees]

"So, I was wonderin' why a pretty little thing like you was interested in being a contestant on Dante's Abyss."

The balding man behind the counter, asked Toga this over his shoulder, as he gathered up the documents he needed her to sign. Eyes staring off into the middle-distance, Toga thought back to that morning. The gentle chirping of the birds greeting the dawn. The sunlight splashing against her eyes from the window. The stench of death in the air.

"Oh, you know..." Toga replied with a wide grin, "I just broke up with my boyfriend and, like, I figured maybe I could find someone new here."

His brow crinkling in consternation, Greg, as his name-tag stated, handed over the paperwork to the young lady and gave her a quick look over.

"Look... kid. I get that break-ups are hard, but you sure about this? You could die out there. In fact, you probably WILL die."

With a soft laugh, Toga twirled a pen from the cup on the counter and began filling out her information, saying, "Yeah, I know. That's what makes it fun, right?! What better place to find true love than when you're fighting for your life?!"

"Besides... " she continued, the distant sounds of a siren in the distance perking her interest. "I could use a change of scenery."

Moments later, the paperwork was complete and the attendant was giving them one last, quick perusal.

"Alright... ya know... we ain't really 'sposed to do this, but Mr. Jak has these clone tanks or whatever. Makes us pay him an arm and a leg to use them, but if we die they just pop out a clone with all our memories and shit and it's like we never died at all. I'm gonna go ahead and..."

Without warning, the surprisingly quick bastard stuck Toga's finger with a small needle, just as quickly making it disappear.

"Set you up in my tank."

Staring at her still bleeding finger, Toga absently spoke to the man.

"Uh... sure... but why?"

With a gruff grunt, Greg scowls and looks away. "Don't worry about it. You just remind me of my daughter is all..." he finished with a sigh.

"Well, I guess you're all ready to go then. Just walk to the back and get in the teleporter and you'll be on your way."

As the newest contestant of Dante's Abyss started off towards the back, finger in her mouth, Greg had one last question for her.

"So... how'd the guy take the break-up? You don't seem all too torn up about it."

Once again, Toga thought about that morning. As the bird-song and sunlight had stirred her awake, her eyes had opened upon the face of her Silly Billy. His skin was cold, and his eyes glazed over, but the blue of his blood-starved lips was hidden beneath a wash of brown-red blood. Whether he had finally figured out that Toga was never going to let him go, or if he'd just given into despair, she would never know. And even if he was still alive, he couldn't have told her with a tongue bitten in two.

With an even wider smile than before, Toga answered with, "He was speechless!"

 

[Yuuka Kazami]

A flower-colored corpse dragged its way towards nothing in particular.

The beautiful music she had heard earlier now seemed far, far away- as though the player had fled from her. That was unfortunate. She was now alone, crawling through this barren wasteland, and in more pain than she ever had been in her life. Death would have been an improvement, frankly. But she wasn't thinking about that.

The booth on the horizon was initially just an eyesore, one that stood out from the crumbling skyscrapers that littered the sky.

Though, it was an eyesore whose name piqued her interest- decked out in streamers and advertisements for something incredibly familiar. All too familiar, she thought. Wasn't that supposed to have been yearly? How long had it been? And where the hell was she?

The shambling mass approached as slowly as ever, an impressive feat for a woman with about a quarter less than the average number of limbs. To her credit, the dark-skinned woman running the booth utterly no-sold it. Though she did pause a moment to look at the remains crawling steadily her way, she reacted with little more than a tilt of the head. "You here to sign up, or are you just gonna go and die in front of my booth? If so, I'd kindly ask you to please die somewhere else, because I don't have time to deal with that."

"Show some respect," Yuuka croaked, throat bloody and dry, "this exact competition is why I'm like this in the first place."

"And what do you expect me to do about that?"

“Pay my medical bills.”

“No." The receptionist blew and popped a bubble with her gum as she stared down at the pile of flesh and petals at her feet, gaze steely and unwavering. With a huff, she dropped a clipboard covered in about a dozen liability forms and a pen chained to it in front of the former contestant. "No refunds, you oughta know the policy. Sign the form first, and we’ll consider helping you out.”

Yuuka couldn't help but laugh, even though her ribs cracked and stabbed all the while.

“You drive a hard bargain. Alright.”

Not like she read the forms. Yuuka had little time for reading, and frankly the tiny text and big words of the disclaimers made it completely incomprehensible to her anyway. She knew the deal- it was a televised deathmatch, whatever. There was no guarantee she'd get out alive. Frankly it was more likely she'd die again.

It meant nothing.

Bloom, scatter, return to the earth, and bloom again.

Her signature was punctuated with a thick, blobby line of blood from her torn fingers.

Kneeling down, the receptionist nodded along to Yuuka's filled out form, taking the clipboard from her hands and setting it aside, chewing all the while. "Well then, we need to make you presentable for the big screen, now don't we?" She placed a hand between the Youkai's shoulder blades as she spoke, before chanting to herself- "Diarahan." Her eyes lit up a sickening gold as she did, teal energy flowing from her chest, down her arm, and into Yuuka's body.

Yuuka's bones, silently, knit back together- her bloody flesh mending itself. The flowers that bloomed from her wounds wilted away, the silhouette of a human taking form from the bloody pile. She shoved herself up onto her reformed knees, panting as stems and leaves fell from her body and rotted into nothingness all in an instant. While her wounds were gone, she still felt completely exhausted, a deep ache in her bones and the back of her brain. The pain had just numbed her to it before. Finally, she could ask someone where-

But she was unceremoniously dragged to her feet, the woman who ran the booth grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her upright like one would a child. "You know the drill," she said, taking a moment to dust off what was left of Yuuka's clothes. Though upon that inspection she pursed her lips, unsatisfied with the amount of fabric remaining, and took off her own Syntech-branded jacket in order to hurl it at Yuuka. "Put that on so you're decent, then I'll count you down. Name and what you're bringing to the tournament."

The jacket was donned at a reasonable pace, taking the entirety of her worn-down mind's concentration, as she tried to make herself look less dead. (an impossibility.)

"Alright. Here you go. Three, two... one."

"Bet you're surprised to see me again," Yuuka stated, this time with an idle chuckle as her calm smile returned to her features, though this one was far more tired than the one she'd worn last year. "Pepsibitch number two, Kazami Yuuka, here. And I'm here to commit egregious acts of violence and sell Pepsi, as my contract states."

The receptionist rolled her eyes as she flicked the camera off, a deep sigh rolling over her. "Right, I'm not even gonna try to argue with you that outright saying you're advertising is probably the shittiest way to advertise in the universe. That's not my problem. Just... Get in the teleporter."

Wearily, Yuuka obliged, stumbling into the device without so much as a 'thank you' as she disappeared into the aether along with all those unanswered questions- leaving the woman who had healed her alone once more, back to chewing her gum.

What had she even expected from the kind of people who considered 'bloodsport' a reasonable occupation? God, she missed normal minimum wage jobs.

 

[Fenix]

Suwako sighed, waiting on the collection of ships for her turn in line. It didn’t take her too long to figure out that there weren’t actually that many entrants for a tournament like this. It seemed humans had the intelligence to enter giant death tournaments in a trickle, rather than a Deluge. She was frankly a mixture of impressed and horrified so many were jumping into something so…

So…

Entertaining? Yeah, that was the word!

Holding a hand up, the Small goddess slowly strode forward, trying to keep the sun out of her eyes by adjusting her large straw hat, the eyeballs coming up to the front of her head.

The stand she’d found seemed to be well air-conditioned, and that was impressive given it was completely open-air. The bored event staff, however, seemed to have an issue appreciating the gift of freedom from the sun’s hot glare, and as one lazily adjusted the umbrella to sit higher, another sat half-asleep at a desk. “...Sigh…” One of them sighed. “Karl doesn’t really think he’s going to get an entrant, does he?” One of them whined.

“Victor, you gotta focus. We’re getting paid a pretty penny to be here.”

Excuse them, were they missing the cute girl walking down the Wooden board-walk, connected to the greater shanty-town of beautiful 17th century ships lazily crammed together, with an amazing frog-pattern design on her blouse? These were philistines! Heretics! Dorks even!

Suwako cleared her throat loudly, trying to get a response, but the older man just turned, twiddling his moustache.

“But we’re on the surface. My place is up in the heights of the World, with the real power of Opealon.”

“Okay, but the money is down here, and you took the money, Vic.”

“Yes, yes, I understand that, Flynn, but we haven’t seen a single Soul-”

“Ex-cyoooooose me!” Suwako said, putting on her cutest voice in an attempt to rid these men of their ears with the high-pitched squeal. It worked, as both Flynn and Vic plugged their ears.

The two men turned as one, almost mechanically, looking down to the pint-sized pipsqueak, staring around the top of the desk.

“...Can we… help you?” Victor asked.

Suwako sighed. “...Well, assuming this is the right line, I’d be in the DA registration booth, right? I heard about you on account of everyone hearin’ about’cha.”

There was a groan form victor, as Flynn nodded, scratching his beard in triumph as he gestured. “See? We got to do something.”

“Whatever. So what should I have down for you, miss. Name, race… I’m assuming some kind of straw-person?” Victor recited with a bored expression.

Suwako quirked her eye. What was he talking about? Unless…

Suwako looked up to the pair. They seemed to be very focused on something, but it was a little above her. Specifically, about a foot, and they were looking at it like they were…

Oh. Pyon-ta.

“And here I thought eyes were part of the package. It’s a hat, guys.” Suwako added, tongue lolling out as she took off her hat to show them the small god beneath.

“...Okay, cool, so instead of a straw-monster, we get another contestant who looks young enough to be your daughter.”

“Okay, first off, rude. I’m not that short. Second off, I’m old enough to be the girl your grandmother cheated with, Sonny.” Suwako added with a glare.

“Wow, she hits all the cliches of a DA character. What, Deadpool not around so you think you can make your mark in the “edgy chick market?”

Suwako just smiled in response. “Oh, mr. Victor, you sure did peg me. How about we move from this childish conversation and move onto signing me up for the competition.”

Victor sighed. “If you’re sure… I need your name and anything else you’d like to be associated with.”

“Oh, my name is Suwako Moriya, God of Mountains.”

Flynn snickered. “Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Eat me, mortal.”

“Well, suwako, how about you demonstrate some of your powers for the fans, then? Give us some reason to bring you in?”

Suwako would think about that for a second, before bringing out her iron rings. “Uhhhhm…. If you’d like to see me do a cute little dance with these…” Suwako would start off with a cute voice, smiling with a sweet look as she opened her eyes wide, getting a bit of a chuckle out of the two.

‘...Then bring me ten men and I’lll show you how quickly I make ‘em fall down.” Suwako finished, embedding the Iron rings into the wooden planks to the shock of both men.

“Wow wow wow, wait a s-second. Weapons a-aren’t even allowed.”

“Oh?” Suwako would ask, before shrugging and picking the iron rings up from the ground, subtly showing off her own strength with how easily she pulled the rings from the wedge.. “Well, how about this…”

And with a smile, Suwako would bring a tree from the very wood below them, focusing on the feeling of earthiness, feeling that dead vitality, and coaxing it forth. In no time, an oversized miniature bonsai sprouted underneath her feet, the goddess giving a lazy smirk as she laid upon the tree, head resting on her knee as she lazily looked the two of them straight in the eye, now at perfect eye level with the larger men as she lounged cockily.

“...That’s a bit more useful. A-anything else?”

Suwako smiled. With a glance to the area around them, she concentrated, pulling that which was impure from the water and bringing it forth as mud and clay. Swirling spots of brown came to rest in her hand and then spun, Slowly changing and shifting before finally assumin the form of a perfectly made clay pot. “...I have a few things.” she said, before making a simple motion, changing the clay pot to an imitation rowboat, spear, a solid clay brick, and then finally finishing up with a miniature Suwako of earth, which she held in her palm.


“...Okay. That’s a little better. You might actually do fine. You know-”

“Oh! And I’m also pretty fast. You’ll notice in a minute.” Suwako would add with a smirk.

“O… kay.” Victor said, frowning as he tried to get this idea worked out in his head. “...Why don’t you take this form and go fill it out while we get the teleporter going.”

Suwako nodded. “‘Kay.” She said, before heading to a queue filled with a few interested visitors.

Victor turned to his taller friend. “Hey, do you know what the hell she was talking about?”

Flynn shrugged. “Nevermind. Did you know one of the Entrants has your name? Victor… wolfe.”

“Well that would be the exact same, except I’m Victor Baskins. Totally different.”

“Yeah, but it’s the same first name.”

“Right, but Victor’s a common first name. I’m missing the fuckboy look and I got about 30 pounds on the scrawny dude of just muscle, so I’m pretty sure it’s hard to get too confused about. Now if someone joined named flynn, that’d be an uncommon name.”

Flynn shrugged. “Yeah. Suppose you’re right.”

And with a sigh, Victor turned back to his desk. “Ugh, maybe I’ll figure it out after-”

And then, with a surprised gasp, he noticed something…

A conspicuous gap in the sanctity of his desk, where a small blue lunchbox was supposed to be sitting.

And a trail of dirt leading to the teleporter room.


“Hey wait! No! You bitch!” The Syntech employee yelled, hoping the teleporter staff heard him even if the Bratty little would-be goddess didn’t. He just needed one of them to stop so he could put her over his frigging knee!

To his surprise, Suwako was already in the teleporter itself, looking up with a surprise, before giving an incredibly wide grin. Snapping open the lunchbox, the Blonde girl unveiled her longue tongue, and licked her lips, staring down at the sandwich and mashed potatoes.

“No, don’t you dare-” Victor yelled, edging on desperation.

Suwako was not to be deterred, however. A long tongue slurped at super speed, spreading froggy saliva all across the meal.

“No no no ]noooooo!” Victor cried, as the teleporter turned on, and suwako disappeared - lunchbox in hand.

Flynn walked outside. “Well, look at it this way. Maybe she’ll get killed by the victor participating in this televised deathmatch.”

Victor groaned, fists tightening. “I hope he kills her. Violently.”

“Well, that’s actually pretty likely for this competition. How about we go order some pizza?”

 

[Aku]

Aku had enough of this foolish business that was foiling his plans.

"I AM GOING TO TAKE A WALK TO COOL OFF MY TEMPER. BY THE TIME I GET BACK, YOU MORTALS BETTER SOLVE THIS PUZZLE, OR YOU WILL NO LONGER EXIST ON THIS PLANET! JUST LIKE YOUR OLD MAN DID!" exclaimed Aku toward the archaeologist team that was working to help the situation.

They had no time to reply to their new master since they know it would just be a waste of time. With that settled, Aku began to march off toward the woods with anger that still was rumbling inside him. The shogun of sorrow leaves the site and starts his hike through the wilderness of Erde Nona. His form shrinks to an average size that some humanoid species can reach the height of this form. The altitude where he stands is 7'2 ft.

As so, Aku is as tall as a professional basketball player. Shrubs and tree branches get pushed out of the way with his long arms. So far, there is no other living thing he has come across yet. At least being alone, he doesn't have to keep making sure that his somewhat loyal subjects are at work. What didn't help the situation back there was that Mewtwo wasn't present.

Anyone that leaves Aku will most of the time get put on his "people to unleash his wrath upon" list. Still not particular anything interesting is happening in these woods except the embodiment of evil treading through here. It will not be long until Aku finds at least some civilization after walking through the forest for forty-five minutes. Out of the thick forest, he stands on a dirt road, and across it is a cottage tavern that serves as a hotel and pub. It looks popular too since horses and other aliens/fantasy creatures serve as mounts rest outside of the inn.

Something else attracts his attention that stands out even more than the bland colors of the cottage. An established big lavish tent sat next to the tavern that he witnessed and could tell this tent was catching everyone's attention because of travelers entering or exiting the tent. Aku moved across the ground with his little black darkened tendrils wiggling from movement. He crosses the road while traffic is low in the area. The master of darkness enters the tent along with other mortals that he senses.

Inside the tent, room inside it was significant to match the outer appearance with booths set up at the far another side of the canvas where Syntech Corporation staff occupied. It appears that they were interviewing people that visit. Aku's attention is focusing on the booths that people populate. Still, soon his observation is cut off by bumping into a buffed bald Caucasian male human near the same height as Aku with tattoos that cover most of his body. In front of the man, is a long line that stretched toward the sign-up booth.

"Watch, where you're going, antlers!" spouted the macho man turning around to face Aku with no manners and thinking he was inferior to him.

Thinking that his anger was gone, it soon came back quickly over Aku after what the mortal said. His eyebrows shoot up with intense fire and a nasty, angry face that the shogun of sorrow made.

"ANTLERS? FILTHY MORTAL, YOU HAVE NO MANNERS ON THE FUTURE RULER OF YOUR INFERIOR PLANET!" shouts Aku with his sharp claw hands balling into fists that fill with rage.

"Oh yeah, what you going to do about it, grandpa! We throw down right here and now to show who is ready for Dante's Abyss!" growls the macho man back toward the master of darkness and cracks his knuckles.

This Dante's Abyss sounds like something that is right up Aku's alley, and with that, he's intrigued in this kind of event.

"FOOL! YOU CANNOT HARM ME! FOR I AM AKU! THE MASTER OF DARKNESS!" explained Aku of his all-powerful being that no mortal could hurt.

Before the macho man pulls a move, the shogun of sorrow's eyes light up with white brightness and releases a laser beam from his eyes that reduces the mortal to ashes. Everybody's attention suddenly caught when they heard Aku's power activating and witnessing what happened to someone, waiting in their line. His eyes go back to normal and glare at everyone in the queue.

"I HAVE NO PATIENCE TO WAIT IN THIS FOOLISH LINE! IF ANYONE STANDS IN MY WAY, I WILL RELEASE MY WRATH UPON YOU! NOW EVERYONE, GET OUT OF MY WAY AND BOW TO MY GLORY THAT WILL RULE THIS PLANET MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Aku roars with mightiness that makes everyone in the line not to want to mess with him.

They started to depart and make a path for Aku to take toward the sign-up booth. He moves toward the cabin with confidence while the tendrils connected to his bottom base wiggle across the ground. His eyes shift one side to the other to make everyone tremble with his serious face. The male Syntech employee that operated the sign-up booth was amazed by the shogun of sorrow's presence. Aku arrives at the box and stands in front of the associate.

"I WOULD LIKE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS SO-CALLED DANTE'S ABYSS." Asks Aku with a smile across his face knowing that this participation will be easy since no mortal's strength or weapon could kill him.

"Very well! I see you already fit for the other questions I would ask after seeing what you did back there and told everyone. All I need to ask is, what do you bring to the competition in front of the cameras that everyone will watch across the crossroads?" the male Syntech associate questions about Aku being on a live broadcast in this event.

"AS EVERYONE WATCHES AT HOME, THEY WILL WITNESS THE POWERFUL AND ALMIGHTINESS THAT I, AKU, IS CAPABLE TO PERFORM! YOU JUST GOT A GLIMPSE OF WHAT I CAN DO HEHEHEHEHEHE!" explains the embodiment of evil and in return, hooks the Syntech employee that he is worthy enough to participate.

"I approve of you, Aku! Now please sign this contract with your name, and you will be on your way to Dante's comet." The Syntech associate asks the master of darkness to put his signature on the waiver.

He presents the waiver to Aku with a single sheet of paper and an ink pen to write in. In the article, it had many words that would take a while to read. The shogun of sorrow signed right away without understanding the consequences of participating in this event with the mind that it consisted of mortal things that will not hurt him. His name inked on the paper is now his starting moment of being in the annual Dante's Abyss. The associate grabs the signed contract and rolls it up then stashing it in a folder.

"Please proceed to the next booth to fill the registration out before being transported. Congratulations on earning a spot in this year's Dante's Abyss and good luck!" the Syntech employee explains the next procedure with a smile on his face and gesturing his hand to the registration booth that sits next to this booth.

A wall divides both the booths for the organization. Aku moves over to next door to see a female Synthech employee running the box.

"Here are the registration forms, and please fill out every blank before you enter our teleport booth." the female Syntech guides the shogun of sorrow through the next process while handing him a registration form paper and an ink pen.

He starts filling out the registration form while explaining who he was. It took him two minutes to fill out the piece of paper, and he gave it back to the Syntech associate.

"You may now proceed to the teleportation booth and remember Syntech is the future!" the female Syntech Employee instructs Aku and a Syntech Corporation slogan.

The shogun of sorrow enters the teleportation booth that a male Syntech associate is operating. After a couple of seconds of entering the teleporting device, the employee begins to activate the machine by pressing buttons on the booth's control panel. After the procedure, Aku gets whisk away with the teleportation and disappears from Erde Nona. Now, the master of darkness is traveling to the other side of the crossroads to Dante's comet.

 

[Cho]

Cho backed out of his room and closed the door behind him. He wandered the halls of the Emperor’s palace, his head hanging somewhat, his gaze firmly glued to his feet. The golden halls seemed to blur together as he wandered, hands in his pockets, somehow managing to sidestep around the many apparent hall-dwellers. A few tried to stop him and have a conversation, arms outstretched to catch him and stop him. Deft spins and stooping below the obstacles kept him on track, not that there was any particular direction he was headed in.

Eventually the sprawling halls of the palace lead him outside, into the dry heat of the city which he now called home. Greeted by the same hustle and bustle he was used to by this point, he followed the steps down that lead into the marketplace outside the Palace. Another figure reached out to stop him. He recognised this individual from the ship where he’d first awakened on this snowy hellscape; a friend of the Emperor’s. He was breathing heavily, a bead or two of sweat rolled down his forehead as he reached up to wipe it away before it dripped into his eyes.

“Cho?” Dave asked, still panting for air, “the Emperor said I’d find you here. I’ve got something for you.. From him.”

Cho furrowed a brow and eyed the guard from head to toe before nodding once, holding a hand out to take whatever it was that Wolfe had given him. Dave handed over a small device, hand held and rectangular. He turned it over in his palm, inspecting the dataverse device with visibly apparent confusion. Cho looked up at the guard who, after a moment, remembered the little instruction manual that Wolfe had provided as well. He handed it over and waited patiently on the Earthbender to read it over.

Instructions thoroughly read over, the Earthbender tapped the glass side of the device. It lit up at his touch and displayed the date, time and a little box informing him that he had an unread message from Victor Wolfe. He put a little pressure on the box and it enlarged, revealing the message as he did so.

“Cho,” the message began, Cho grimaced as he read along, hearing it in Wolfe's voice in his head, “an opportunity has presented itself, right here in the middle of our little empire. Come to the town centre and head to one of the sign up booths. We’re entering a little death game and I’d hate to not have you there by my side. See you soon.”

Cho’s brow remained furrowed as he peered up at Dave, “The fuck does he mean by ‘Little death game?’ “

Dave appeared as confused as Cho and shook his head a few times, “I’m sorry, this is a little lost on me as well. It could be Dante’s Abyss, but I’m not sure if that’s a thing here. Is there anything you need me to take care of while you go ahead and sign up?”

“Yeah, please. Go ahead to Grudgir Gritarn’s shop and tell him that the feast is being postponed and that I’ll pick up my suit when I’m back. Oh, and then head up to my room. There’s a girl in there..” Cho screwed his nose up and shook his head as Dave’s eyes twinkled a little, “not like that. One of Victor’s lot. Tell her the same and that she can use my room while we’re gone.”

“Grudgir and girl in your room. Got it.”

“Thanks, Dave. See you around.. I hope.”

Dave smiled wistfully and nodded a few times, “You too, kid.” He jogged away, in search of Grudgir’s shop as Cho turned again to face the town square, his heartbeat seeming to reverberate around his entire body. He pushed through the crowd until he reached the booth that Victor had described in his message. A small crowd was still gathered around, clamoring as a man in blue and gold robes stepped onto a little disk off to the side and disappeared into thin air. Cho clamped his eyes shut and grumbled inumerable curse words under his breath.

The Earthbender siddled through the gathered crowd and shoved his way to the front of the booth and nodded to the attendant.

“Name?” The woman asked, without so much as glancing up at him.

“Cho.”

“Right. And what will you bring to this competition?”

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m signing up to, should hear from someone who’s already signed up. I dunno? I can control the element of earth?” The woman spared Cho a cursory glance, a wide smirk plastered across her face.

“Good luck, kid. Step on through.” She gestured to the same pad that the robed man had stood upon. Cho approached and took a long inhale before stepping onto the pad. The city around him seemed to shimmer and fade before he was sent off to Dante’s Comet.