Dante's Abyss -- The Barracks

[Karl Jak]

At the top of the elevator at the far end of the Lobby is 'the Barracks.' This is the final staging ground for everyone who has applied to participate in Dante's Abyss and been accepted. You may roleplay being approached by a Syntech employee and escorted here, or you may simply head an announcement on the PA system and head here yourself.

The barracks contains a common area for accepted participants to hang out and 'talk shop' prior to leaving for the island. As with elsewhere in the pre-show facility, violence is not allowed whatsoever.

Each contestant has a small room to sleep/rest in (all the rooms have numbers at correspond to a contestant -- just check your profile to see your number). These rooms contain a plain bed and a radio. At the foot of the bed is a footlocker that contains your assigned Weapon/Support Item inside of your Survival Bag. This footlocker will only open up right before the order to embark onto the helicopters to leave for the island. Your room can only be opened by you, in order to give people a sense of privacy if they need it.

Mr. X and Mr. Voorhees are the only contestants not available. Mr. Banner will be heavily sedated, and Mr. Pool will be... well, he'll be Mr. Pool. Guard your valuables.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

To be honest, Arthur wasn’t too sure of what to make of all these new folks. It seemed that the fightin’ place, the Dojo, attracted all sorts, even less savory characters much like himself. By some ineffable stroke of luck, though, he didn’t have to interact with the new arrivals—froggy girl and shadow man—for too long, because right as they arrived a brief, popping crackle came from on high, startling him.

”Attention all contestants: please report to the Barracks at once,” ordered a voice in a dull monotone, disembodied words echoing around the firing range.

Arthur straightened in his seat immediately, craning his neck around to search for whoever’d spoken. Upon not finding them (and noticing that not a single other person in the room seemed too disturbed by the ghost-voice, embarrassingly enough), he settled down again, looking to Kopaka.

“Well, I ain’t about to argue with that. This place is gettin’ to be a little crowded, anyhow,” said Arthur, closing his journal with great gentleness. He got to his feet. “Catch ya later then, partner.”

With a final nod in Kopaka’s direction and a casual salute thrown at Gilgamesh, Arthur sauntered out of the firing range, intent on finding wherever these Syntech folks wanted him to go next. He had a feeling it’d take him a while to find it, so he wanted to get an early start.

Fortunately, for a man who had no earthly idea of where he was going, it didn’t take Arthur very long to locate the Barracks. This was mostly because there were plenty of attendants walking the halls to point him in the right direction, not to mention the various flashing signs posted all around the facility. He was glad for the help, too. Might never have found the place without it, especially since he’d never have thought to try this elevator contraption.

The Barracks, as it turned out, was pretty ordinary. It was fairly spartan in appearance, the most interesting thing about the place being the numerous individual doors beyond the common room, each with numbers written on their smooth wooden surfaces. There were some tables and a few low couches around, but Arthur didn’t care to investigate anything beyond that. The promise of rest was too enticing.

With a slight shrug, Arthur picked out one of the rooms for himself: the one set up nearest to the common room of the Barracks, with a plaque reading “#01” pinned to the wooden door. Figured it would be a good choice; it’d give him a good vantage point to observe the other contestants filing in from if he decided to leave the door cracked, anyway, and it was located right by the common area. He couldn’t‘ve asked for a better spot.

Opening the door revealed a small room with a similarly-sized cot, a neatly-folded blanket that didn’t seem all that comfortable resting at the end it. Some strange device was sat on the side table, which Arthur ignored for the most part upon not identifying an obvious use for it. There was even a little locker placed at the foot of the bed, though Arthur wasn’t too sure what they expected him to store in there. Hell, they’d taken just about everything off his person— he was just relieved to still have his journal with him, now. He tried the latch anyway, but was unable to open it, though he could just barely glimpse something already in there through the mesh-like door— damn thing was probably sealed shut.

Done investigating his new room, Arthur sighed and made for the bed, not even bothering to remove his mud-covered shoes. Lying down across the cot with his boots resting squarely atop the blanket, he tucked his chin against his chest, the wide brim of his hat shading his eyes from the room’s dim lighting as he settled in.

He’d try to get a little shut-eye, ‘least before the rest of the contestants arrived.

 

[Solomon Grundy]

Sigmund and Okuyasu were neck and neck around the corner in the arcade game, the blue suited youth gritting his teeth and exclaiming excitement with each little burst of speed. He liked playing video games, even old ones, but this one was somehow even better that the latest version! "I guess sometimes the oldies are the goodies, huh?" He guffawed, looking over at Ashe-0. She was standing patiently with her arms folded, watching Okuyasu and Sigmund fight over last place.

Then, all the games in the arcade blinked and reset, booting them out of the unfinished race. "Aww, come on! I was gonna win!" Okuyasu grunted, flicking the tip of his pompadour as the tinned announcement droned on about contestants heading to their bunks to prepare. His eyes got big, and for the first time, his bravado seemed to have a crack in it and his face fell. "Well...it was fun. I guess I'll see you down there...hopefully not?"

Slouching off and being corralled to his room by the numerous Syntech attendants, he passed by another bank of drink machines and bought two Calpis drinks, cracking one open and looking at the room bearing his name and number. To his left was Contestant 1, Arthur Morgan. And to his right...

He read the name and laughed. "Ha! Mickey! No way! Well, I guess I'll get to talk to him before he tries to...kill...me?" His brain broke for a second, and then shrugged off the inherent paradox like a dog shaking it's head. The trepidation evaporated as he belched and knocked on the other door. At least "Arthur Morgan" was a normal sounding name, so he was less likely to be anyone Okuyasu had seen in cartoons.

"Heyyyy! I'm your neighbor Okuyasu! Wanna Calpis?"

 

[Cho]

As Cho stepped through the teleporter, all of his senses abandoned him, all aside from the sensation in the pit of his stomach. He clamped his eyes shut as he was thrust through the space around him, his stomach churned and roiled as the unpleasant sensation took hold. But, as quickly as he had closed his eyes, the sensation ceased; his feet hit solid ground once again and he stumbled forwards a few steps, struggling to catch himself. Thankfully, one of the Syntech employees that manned the teleporter noticed and reached an arm out to catch him and give him something to readjust his balance on.

“Hey-up, kiddo. First time in a teleporter?” the man asked, a hint of genuine concern peaked through his halk chuckled question, “Take a second, huh? It’s weird, I know.”

Cho glanced up at his support, one eye open. He wheezed a little as he spoke, “Yeah, thanks. Not used to this kinda thing.” Having allowed his vision to focus on the employee, the Earthbender turned his attention to the vast building he now found himself in. His senses began to return one at a time, he grew intensely aware of the distinct and varied smells that permeated the room from the various food establishments. He released his apparent titan grip on the employee’s forearm, a handprint remained for a moment until the blood returned to the area.

“What’s the deal, then? Where am I supposed to go now?”

“Oh, well, you can head over to the barracks now, if you want. They just put the announcement over the P.A.” He outstretched an arm to lead the Earthbender in the right direction, “You’ll probably be one of the first if we head over there now. Not hungry or anything, are you?”

Cho considered the question for a moment. He shook his head a few times, nervous nausea emanated from the pit of his stomach, his ears burning and his heartbeat still pounding away.

“Alrighty, then. Let me show you over to the Barracks, then. If you got any questions, ask away. You seem a little green to have signed up on your own, you got friends in this already?” an arm snaked its way around the small of Cho’s back, gently guiding him in the right direction.

“Yeah, couple people, I think. One definitely.” Cho began, he peered from left to right and from ceiling to floor over and over, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the area, his attention clearly not with the employee as they wandered through the lobby, “He said something about a death game, I dunno what he means, but I can only assume it’s gonna suck.”

The employee chortled heartily, “Yeah, we get that a lot. It might suck while you’re in there, but imagine coming out on top as the champ. Eternal bragging rights over your friend, hell, you’ll have all the fame and glory. Just don’t choke and you’ll be great. Plus, I dunno what you’re packing, but everyone loves a good underdog story.”

Cho snorted and rolled his eyes at the underdog comment, as if that was supposed to make him feel better; pinning him as the underdog only served to make him that much more nervous.

“Mhmm, we’ll see. Either that or I’ll have my head caved in within the first few minutes and be done and dusted.”

“Aah, don’t be a negative nancy, we’ve seen plenty of craziness. I’m sure you’ll pull through.” the employee forced a grin down at the Earthbender and finally gestured widely as they passed the threshold to the Barracks.

“And here we are. This is the common area. You can have a nice little chat with the other contestants before you smush their brains in. There is a little room for you off to the side there, in case you need a little private time. All your supplies and stuff are in there as well, so make sure you have a rummage around before you head in, alright? This is where I leave ya, kid. Genuinely though, good luck. Don’t choke and we’ll see you on the other side, alright? Oh and don’t mess with that collar, you’d lose your head.”

Cho forced a smile and nodded a few times. He turned to watch as the employee left, half contemplating just following him and stepping back into the teleporter. He reached up to scratch at his jaw, finally realising that he was collared. He tried to jimmy a finger in between the collar and his neck but his better judgement caught him and he let the collar be. He gave the barracks a cursory glance, electing to ignore the group of contestants that had already entered, not in a particularly talkative mood. He muttered a few more curses under his breath, barely able to keep a hold of his vaguely calm demeanour. Every inch of his body screamed at him to just high tail it out of here and never look back. His mind raced, the thunderous rhythmic beat of his heart dominated his hearing, the other contestants’ conversation reduced to little more than a garbled white noise.

He inhaled deeply, sighed heavily and took up position in the direct eye line of the entrance to the Barracks, arms crossed against his chest and just waited for the only person he knew would eventually walk through the doors.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Arthur jolted awake mid-snore, hat nearly toppling off his head as he made to sit up. The room was dimly lit around him, though he could see a thin beam of golden light shining under the door. Still drowsy and blinking the sleep from his eyes, the ex-outlaw listened as the boisterous knocking on his door petered out, replaced by an equally excitable voice.

”HEYYYY! I'm your neighbor Okuyasu! Wanna Calpis?"

Rubbing at his eyes, Arthur slid his boots from the bed with a thump. Swaying from side to side a bit, he stumbled over to the door and yanked it open, leaning heavily on the doorframe to look out into the hall.

His visitor was an oddly-dressed young person. With one hand thrown back behind his head into his slicked-back hair, the other grasping onto the necks of two bottles, the young man struck a dramatic figure in Arthur’s doorway. His blue clothing, in some artistic move that Arthur wasn’t too sure he understood, had golden dollar signs printed on it. Two belts hung low from his hips, apparently not really meant to support the kid’s pants at all.

Arthur took all this in within about five seconds before glancing up at the kid’s face. Two fine lines marked an ‘x’ across his features, an expression of mingling shock and awe growing there as he stared at Arthur (or more specifically, his hat) right back, jaw dropped.

“Partner,” drawled Arthur, cocking his hip against the doorframe. “You did not just offer me cow piss.”

“Cow p—“ the kid burst out laughing, nearly whacking the side of his own face as he waved the bottles around. He held one of ‘em out for Arthur to take, sniggering. “Nah, nah, NOooo. Calpis.”

Arthur took the white polka-dotted bottle, studying it from every angle. Sure enough, the bottle didn’t read ‘cow piss’ on the label. Huh.

“Mighty kind of you,” said Arthur, glancing over his shoulder and into his room. The narrow cot stared back, dirt strewn across it from his boots and some flecks of dried blood from his shirt dotting the pillow.

Stifling a yawn into the back of his hand, he looked again at the kid, whose eyes glittered as they lingered on Arthur’s hat. Funny kid, thought Arthur, but with no real aggression behind it.

“The name’s Arthur Morgan,” Arthur introduced himself, extending his hand for a shake. “I’d invite you in for a sit-down, but there ain’t much room for it, I’m afraid.”

Arthur’s eyes slid over to the sitting room, contemplative. He noted with a slight furrow between his brows that someone was already lurking about in there, pointedly ignoring the two other contestants.

Seemed that whoever they were, they’d have to tolerate some extra company hanging around.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Mickey Mouse wasn’t this game’s ideal competitor. He may have been a trained warrior, but fighting and battle weren’t in his heart. He tried his darndest to refrain from killing anyone or anything. He preferred talk to action, diplomacy to war, words to weapons. He knew he could hurt or heal just as quickly with words as someone else could do with a Big Freaking Gun.

Victor’s words stung. The Mouse had long swelled with some sense of regret over the part he played in the hostile takeover of the assassin’s home city. He’d reckoned with it for a while, and Victor’s tirade — long and dramatic as it may have been — struck something in the mouse that relegated him to silence until the speaker system blared throughout the vaguely Italian restaurant and ordered the would-be warriors to the barracks, signaling it was almost time for the real show to begin.

Mickey and Mugen walked together to the barracks, the samurai stealing glances at his newly despondent friend as they went. They traveled through the preshow mostly in silence, until the elevator doors shut, leaving the pair alone, and Mugen knelt down so he’d be almost on Mickey’s level.

“You good, Mick?” he asked. Mickey met the boy’s eyes and could tell the question was genuine; he’d admit he found himself consistently surprised at just how much he liked Mugen, given their first impressions. The reckless, drunken samurai boy had quickly become a close companion — one Mickey Mouse was glad to have.

“I’m alright, pal,” the mouse replied unconvincingly. Mugen was his friend, but what was he supposed to say? Especially since the major details of his feud with New Babylon were events the ronin wasn’t exactly privy to.

The elevator beeped along its path as Mugen regarded him. “Listen,” he smirked, “that guy seemed like a real, capital-A asshole. Sorry for the language.” He winked at Mickey, whose eyes had already snapped into scolding-mode at the sound of the curse. The samurai’s apology relaxed the mouse’s stern demeanor, and unexpectedly, he started to laugh.

That guy really was an a-hole, wasn’t he?

The elevator doors whizzed open. Mickey and Mugen stepped cautiously into the barracks, taking note of the various competitors who’d already arrived. Arthur the Cowboy clinked bottles nearby with a quirky-lookin’ young man; Mickey and Mugen offered him a smile and a curt nod of acknowledgement. In the sitting area, another man seemed to have his eye on the elevator. Waiting for someone? Mickey couldn’t tell, but he knew he and Mugen didn’t fit this guy’s bill, as the stare didn’t budge upon their entrance.

“I think that’s your room right there,” Mugen extended a long, clumsy arm, pointing towards an entry-way with a big ‘#03’ posted on it.

“Hm,” the mouse sighed, “nice. So I’ll be seein’ ya?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the ronin, who for once seemed to be in a relatively serious mood. Mickey Mouse blinked as once again his friend knelt down to meet him.

“Mick,” the boy warbled, “let’s… not be seeing each other on that island. Yeah?”

Mickey frowned. He knew what the boy meant: this wasn’t a friendly game. He hoped past hope he’d be able to make time for fun adventures, but he also knew how Dante’s Abyss worked. The island manipulated every mind that set foot upon it into a cold-blooded killer. Mickey himself wasn’t even safe from it. And he wondered… did he wanna be?

In Dante’s Abyss, it was kill or be killed. He wasn’t much for that type of atmosphere, but he was here, and winning the thing and getting to Karl might be the only way he would find out what the heck was happening to him.

Did he have the guts to take down the people around him? He figured they were mostly bad dudes, so why shouldn’t he bring them to heel? Serve justice upon them and get answers to his burning questions all in one fell swoop?

He placed a hand on Mugen’s shoulder. “No worries, bud,” he smiled, however forced it may have been. “I’ll meet ya at the finish line.”

“You’d better,” Mugen smirked, slapping Mickey lightly on the back. “Don’t hold back on these losers.”

“I won’t,” the Mouse promised.

Would it be a promise he could keep?

“Let’s check out your digs together,” the ronin offered. Mickey smiled a bigger, more genuine smile and turned on his heel, sprinting off into his room. Mugen followed quickly, clumsily tripping over himself just a little bit as he burst through the door of room #03.

The decor was as sparse as Mickey had come to expect. The footlocker at the end of the bed undoubtedly contained whichever one of Karl’s toys he’d bequeathed to Mickey for the event, and upon a quick inspection, it was locked. Mugen let out some curses, frustrated they wouldn’t be able to mess around with their cool weapons yet, which Mickey uncharacteristically ignored. His focus had been stolen, as it happened, by the window just above his cot.

He clambered up onto the metallic, uncomfy-looking bed frame and peered out.

Holy heck.

He’d heard they were on a comet or meteor or something but he hadn’t really fully believed it until now. Outside the window, endless space stretched out before him. At first glance, it looked a lot like the night sky, but painted with purple nebulas and huge planets of all colors whizzing past them as the comet followed its trajectory through what Mickey could only assume was the Crossroads.

He’d never really seen space before — sure, the paths between his Worlds in the Disney Realms wasn’t unlike the great vacuum, but on a much less grand scale. Mickey watched as an emerald green planet that must’ve been Kraw zoomed past his field of vision, and looked off in the distance to see others: one blue-and-green, one murky and silver-colored, one a deep reddish orange. Some were close, some were far, but in the weirdest way, all of them felt within reach. He felt so small, but so… connected, at the same time, in a way he’d never felt in either of his previous universes.

It was only after a few minutes of staring into the stars that Mickey noticed Mugen had stuffed his own face up next to him. He supposed the samurai boy hadn’t really seen anything like this ever, either. The slim young man jostled with a little nudge for more face space in the window, and Mickey obliged. As Mugen scooted, his knee must’ve knocked the radio on the side table, because without warning, music began to play.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,
When you’re fast asleep…
In dreams you will lose your heartaches,
Whatever you wish for, you keep…”

Mickey’s smile grew big.

“Song’s kinda slow for a pre-battle jam, huh?” Mugen mused, plopping down onto the bed.

“It’s from my homeland,” Mickey noted, idly.

“Oh? Hm,” Mugen nodded. “Guess this Karl guy really thought of everything.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “He usually does.”

And this time, I will too.

 

[Gilgamesh]

Gilgamesh seemed to attract the weirdest companions wherever he went in the pre-show facility. Though he thought that the shooting range would be the least populated area of the Dojo, he was sadly incorrect. Though he did not mind the presence of the cowboy, the appearance of the ice robot, the shadow demon, and the frog god had been rather unexpected. Though he would ordinarily be irritated with the numerous presence of lesser beings, he could tell that he had garnered the interest of the being named Suwako. Her eyes lingered on his glorious form for more than just a moment. Perhaps she could sense Gilgamesh’s power? He could perhaps make an ally of her yet. Though his time to sway her was cut short by the dull voice from the speaker.

“Attention all contestants: please report to the Barracks at once.”

The cowboy quickly excused himself from the firing range, either to get away from this mixed bag of contestants or to simply be by himself, though it could always be both. Though to Gilgamesh, isolation did not sound like a bad idea. For every contestant like Arthur or Suwako, that showed decency and respect for the King, there was a contestant like Okuyasu and Malloki that got underneath his royal skin.

“Alas, I believe I shall retire to the barracks as well,” Gilgamesh sighed, placing his hand behind his head and rubbing his hair. “I apologize that we could not speak more,” Gilgamesh nodded to Suwako. “I did actually enjoy your presence. I pray we do not meet again in the Abyss,” Gilgamesh remarked with a sly smirk. He walked towards the exit but paused as he opened the door. Without turning, he made a snide demand, “As for the rest of you. Be sure to kill one another before deciding to face one such as me.”

With that, he left the rest of the group in the shooting range before walking over to the lobby. If Gilgamesh remembered correctly the barracks were at the top floor, only accessible by the elevator at the end of the lobby. He assumed that he had remembered correctly, as many other figures continued to walk in the same direction. As he reached the barracks, he remembered how simple and pedestrian they were. The Golden King rolled his eyes. Karl Jak spares no expense for the pre-show facility, but the living quarters seemed to belong to an army base, with minimal amenities. Taking no time to fraternize, Gilgamesh ignored the common area and walked straight to the personal rooms. The room labeled ‘five’ automatically opened as he walked closer to it. He looked down the long aisle to see many more rooms. It seemed that this competition was as popular as always. What a shame that he must personally get his hands dirty, though it would be the only way he would be taken seriously.

He entered the room, noticing the one thing that gained his attention. On top of his rickety bed, displayed his wonderful golden armor. Louis really had outdone himself. Gilgamesh changed from his casual attire, ruined by a certain contestant, to the more fitting golden suit he was used to fighting in. Now, those who gaze upon him would know their place, beneath his metallic boot. He then sat upon the bed, the tough mattress and rusty springs were unworthy of his royal ass. Hopefully, he would not be required to be here for long. He glanced towards the metallic locker that would decide how difficult this competition would be. Though if his previous encounters with the Abyss were any indicator, Karl had planned to give Gilgamesh another joke. For just this once, Gilgamesh prayed that he was wrong.

 

[Jak]

The knife-eared warrior wigged his thumbs as he spent time finishing up his light meal of yakow streak, medium rare, some warm glass of the creamiest oreo cow he could run across and a beer called Syntech Best. He was still shocked that they offered the whole meal on the house due to the eco warrior being a contestant. When the others disappeared from the bar, the man took the opportunity to eat lightly before staring up at the television.

Mar looked up as he stared at the bartender who was busy finishing clearing the last of the contestants glasses.

The eco warrior wasn’t usually this pleasant when it came to a death tournament but in this little bit of piece, he eyed the man.

“Have you heard of these new contestants coming in?. The determined eco warrior moved closer to the television set. “Some of these names are new to me?”

The athletic man who looked like he should be running a marathon instead of working as a strapping bartender eyed the curious contestant.

“Hm? You haven’t heard of a few of these names before?”

Jak felt sweat drip down the back of his neck “Yeah, a lot of names are familiar from the last time but I guess things change every year.”

As the Dynamite kid turned, a lone man popped up to take a picture “Huh?” The eco warrior scoffed at the lack of privacy in which he promptly sighed. “Yeah, it’s me Jak/Mar. Dynamite kid.”

He shrugged and signed his name on the camera film “Here.”

The man seemed excited “Hey, thanks pal!”

The bartender lightly smirked “Can’t get away from people, huh Dynamite kid?”

Jak wasn’t paying attention as he continued watching the television set for information and interviews with everyone with renewed interest.

It was then the television sets clicked as a rather loud announcement came booming from the speakers

“All contestants, please come to the Barracks at your earliest convenience.”

A touch from a fuzzy friend reassured him “Go get’m, Mar.. Ooops I meant Dynamite kid…”

Jak smirked as he felt Daxter’s paw on his shoulder “Dax, didn’t I tell you to go home? How did you dodge the traffic? The people here?!”

Daxter smirked “You know me, now go before you miss your barrack time.”

The ottsel began to yell praises and encouragements “GOOD LUCK OUT THERE BUDDY!”

Jak just lightly shook his head and turned, moving toward the lobby as so many others were doing.

Moving toward the barracks in such a packed space was beginning to annoy the supposed man but it was all part of the Dante’s Abyss experience.

The door was opened enough to move inside to see the barrack’s actual area. The place looked fairly familiar, Karl liked to keep things mundane and simple so it seemed in here.

The eco warrior looked at a slip of paper a kind guide had given him which specified a number which said number #18 on the door as he sighed and looked around at the various contestants around him.

He basically sighed as he decided to hang outside his door and people watch for now.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

Though his stride was casual, his purpose was clear. In his wake rallied the gaggle of giggling gals that gandered upon his greaser getup. The bad-boy vibe that normally most people avoided due to the insanity in his eyes was apparently more attractive when the attire did not scream literal murder hobo.

It was only as he turned the corner to return to that wooded area that he heard his metaphorical dinner bell. A voice over the intercom called out to all contestants to make their way to the barracks in preparation for the coming event. At least, he assumed something like that came out, after realizing he was being paged to the barracks, his path changed.

A unified “awww” left the painted lips of the ladies as he dipped into an area of the establishment they could not follow. As suspected, none of them were contestants.

Of course, Malloki had a moment of bravado left in him so he tossed a wink and half smirk at the women. The swoon was real… but the moment the door closed the unhinged man flopped against a wall and heaved a sigh.

Damn I’m good!

With the press of a button, the elevator began to rise higher and higher in parallel with his anticipation. He could not wait to see all of the contestants gathered in one place. This would be absolutely thrilling!

Hmm, I wonder which ones I will get to play with! There were no delusions. Malloki knew he would not play with everyone, he doubted he would make it to the end. That was not the point of Malloki’s game. He was in it for the pleasure. That delightful end of his life, when a pawn topples his king.

Bleh! Chess! That army twat had him thinking of the sucker’s game of protecting the king. Such a silly game, wasting so many pawns instead of doing it one’s self.

Nevertheless, as the door opened he came to view the beauty that was the list of contestants. Well, most of them. Maybe. Frankly speaking, he had no idea how many people were competing, if any where in their rooms or if he was even the last one to arrive. As his eyes gazed over those who were present, he nodded in delight at the competent looking gamers.

Some of those present though, did not quite look worth his time.

There was a cowboy present, and he knew all about their rough and tumble ways… if that was even a thing. He looked fun. The dim looking man that left him after the kingly one was already present too, he might have some tricks. Maybe he only looked dumb as a facade?

Then there was a weird dude with big ears. Like really big ears… “Woah… Hey! Hey!” He called over to Jak even as he started moving in with that same maddening grin and wide eyes. “What happened to your ears? Someone dunk your head in the taffy puller? Hey, ever thought of putting some foil around those and seeing what channels you pick up?”

Yet another innocent soul assaulted by the oddity that was Malloki's odd sense of small talk.

 

[Kopaka]

Kopaka regarded the intruders with grim distaste. A thin coating of ice crackled over the table, just after Arthur tucked his journal away. The Toa mostly disregarded the small, strangely outfitted human-type entity. Her words seemed as vacuous as her boundless enthusiasm suggested. As for the other figure, Kopaka was immediately on his feet. The Toa of Ice stalked closer to Aku, and narrowed his gleaming eyes.

"Shogun of Sorrow. I am Kopaka, Toa of Ice." the android growled. His footsteps rang loudly on the concrete, and drew his face within inches of Aku's widely grinning grimace. "Know that I shall be your undoing. Darkness will not stand while I draw breath."

The shadowed demon, blinked slowly, before grinning even more hideously. Aku began to bark out in a loud, boisterous cackle.

"HAAA HA HA HA HA. GOOD! I WAS BEGINNING TO WORRY THERE WOULD BE NO HEROES TO DESTROY IN THIS CONTEST. NO, TOA OF ICE. I AM AFRAID DARKNESS WILL DO MORE THAN STAND. HAAA HA HA HA HAA." Aku beamed. His shoulders shook up and down with utter glee, which was far from the reaction Kopaka had been hoping for.

"This is no game, fiend. You will be vanquished." Kopaka seethed, prodding Aku in his soft, shadowy chest. The Shogun of Sorrow suddenly adopted a quizzical expression.

"BUT...THIS IS A GAME, TOA OF ICE." Aku bellowed, before reverting to his dark smile, "A GAME. OF DEATH. HAAA HA HA HA."

Kopaka hissed with a blast of supercooled mist, and shouldered past the fiend with a grumble. Talk was cheap, and he had allowed himself to suckered into banter. Justice would be carried out in the arena. For now, Kopaka followed the broadcasted instructions to move to the Barracks. A few of the other competitors were lingering around in the hallway, but the bionicle chose to disregard them. He was, however, glad he had put such an effort into learning the common language of this world; otherwise, it would have been very difficult to find his room.

Kopaka sat down heavily on the cot, and sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Names crossed his consciousness.

Arthur Morgan.

Mickey Mouse.

These two entities had been deeply helpful to him, without asking anything specific in return. Kopaka had to consider the ethical implications of having to kill them. It was possible that he would not have to fight these specific entities, but if he did have to encounter them, what were his prerogatives? Kopaka had to consider his motives for being here. They were ephemeral, to say the least. Predicated almost exclusively on a gut feeling. Losing the competition indicated that he would be killed, but Kopaka could also rely on his reconstruction protocols to mitigate any critical system damage. Did Mickey or Arthur deserve to win out of deference for his ability to reanimate?

The Toa then considered that all of these competitors had indeed signed up for this challenge knowing that it would come down to a life or death situation. Going easy on them would be doing them a disservice, to an extent. It was also worth considering that Mickey had knowledge of who Kopaka was and where he came from...to an extent. Was it worth walking back into the Barracks commons to talk, socialize, and potentially form alliances?

No. Kopaka was indebted to Arthur, and Mickey knew of his history, but they had not gained his trust. He could not let his guard down, not under these circumstances. Karl Jak had promised them 'anything' as a reward; this was more valuable than choosing to trust people he had met only a few hours earlier.

The Toa opened his eyes. The room was completely frozen, with icicles creeping down the walls. Better yet, the door was sealed shut with a thick coating of frost. He had to presume the glittering ice was creeping out into the hallway as well.

Good.

Kopaka closed his eyes again, and prepared himself for the challenge ahead.

 

[Kayleigh Eudora]

There she appeared -- from the portal Kayleigh stepped forward, setting foot in the area referred to as the barracks. The final staging area before Karl Jak's spectacle takes place. It was also the opportune time to scout out the competition. The number of combatants were higher than she expected, as were the amount of 'dubious types' amongst the lot. Several seemed to be getting along rather well, which during the trial could work to her disadvantage.

From the corner of her sight she noticed a young male, keeping to himself and keeping a sharp eye towards her general direction. At first Kayleigh figured it was one of the syntech employees, however he was lacking the uniform. The duration of the stare borderlined creepy, "Avert gaze or see ability of breathing waiver, boy." The fire maiden spoke with a firm voice, wondering how alpha the young boy would present himself.

"E-excuse me, I wasn't really looking at you. I do apologise, but I am waiting for a friend." The adolescent male's unexpected words were coated in both innocence and insecurity, it was kind of endearing. Not the kind of person one would expect to attend this kind of event.

“You are to partake in this spectacle of blood?”

The young boy nodded, and with slightly more confidence he answered her question, “I am, yes! Are you?”

Kayleigh nodded, still processing how this semi-child was here wandering amongst these other, slightly more intimidating individuals. “ I too will be upon the battlefield, though thought of combat against lesser experienced fighters holds no honour for me. You need not fear me upon the field.”

“Oh yeah...that’s so nice of you! I’m cho by the way.” The young man extends his hand which was grasped by the gloved hand of Eurora.

“Kayleigh... “

 

[Jak]

As the strange man in the leather black coat stared at not the eco warrior himself but his freakishly large ears, the eco warrior crossed his arms and lightly scowled. “Those are my normal ears, pal. All of my race have them.”

The man in front of him seemed to want to start trouble, but the eco warrior stood in position while leaning against the wall.

“You must be a contestant in Karl’s “esteemed” death game as well, I presume?”

The Wastelander wasn’t really a talker as he eyed the various rooms both next to him and besides him.

Inside Jak’s mind space told a very different story.

He was standing nearby while his dark king form stormed through his head “Come on, Jak. Say something. He’s insulting your ears for Precursor’s sake.”

The nobleman stood behind Dark and placed a shoulder on the bothersome king. “I’m sure whatever is thrown his way, we can handle it?”

The knife eared Wastelander was hesitant to share anything with anyone in this death game lest it be used against him in the death game this year.

“Who are you, anyways?”

The emboldened eco warrior, Mar looked into Malloki’s eyes. Usually the eyes were a picture into anybody’s soul.

 

[Victor Wolfe]

“Well would you look at that, my boy is all grown up... and he’s even talking to girls!” Victor crowed with his usual sarcastic smile, eyes narrowed calculatingly as he announced himself to Cho and his new companion.

“Why,after that last little tryst with— What’s her name? Katey? Katherine?”

“Karyn,” Cho mumbled, his face turning crimson as one of his most embarrassing moments was brought up on national TV.

“Karyn! Yeah, I figured she was not your type, after all, we all know you are mine,” Victor said with a wink to one of the cameras, causing Cho to ascend to a higher shade of red than was known to man.

“What the hell are you saying!” Cho whispered furiously, dragging Victor by the front of his shirt until they were out of earshot of the girl and away from the view of the cameras.

“Don’t worry my boy, I am doing what I call ‘keeping them guessing.’ You see, fangirls are the most powerful force in celebrity culture, so if we appeal to them and draw in numbers, Mr. Karl might just decide to keep us alive longer! And what drives fangirls wilder than a dangerous cold top with a sweet cinnamon bun bottom! Of course… if you prefer… it doesn’t just need to be a fantasy for the fangirls...” Victor whispered as he nodded in the direction of his room.

“But, I… I don’t! What!?” Cho stuttered, flustered, as Victor whispered in his most sultry of tones. Thankfully, the emperor backed off with a smile and gave him a light slap on the arm.

“Relax, I am just messing with you, having been in two of these going in all worried and tense isn’t going to do you any good. Just relax, remember the skills I have taught you in how to read people and what sometimes needs to be done. And you will do fine.” Cho let out a sigh, mentally exhausted from Victor’s boundless man-slut energy, but glad the advances were made merely in jest.

“So, do we have to kill people here? Cho asked, a genuinely worried look on his face, the massacre of the lock village still weighing heavy on his young mind.

“It is a blood sport, so yes. Do not worry so much, everyone here knew the risks, and there is even an enemy of the state or two here for us to smite! Plus, this would be a first-time death for you so new experiences, it would be my fourth time,” Victor said, smiling as he counted deaths on his fingers.

“Four times? So... what is it like?” Cho questioned, expecting a joke answer. Cho prepared himself for a punch line that never came, Victor was deep in thought, picking up on how much the prospect of mortality was bugging the earth bender.

“Its, humbling, a reminder that no matter how much you struggle, eventually, something is going to get you, be it through suffocation, or being shot in the back, sometimes all it takes is a few pounds of pressure and someone can remove you from existence. I don’t know how it is for everyone, but for me, my spirit wandered, free from my broken body, having to resist fading from existence as my will to carry on sapped... Until I felt that fire in my heart return. Of course, now as a... morbid version of a rodent friend may say, ‘death is an open door’,” Victor said with a sombre chuckle.

Suddenly, he perked up out of his sullen mood. “Oh, right! I did want to try something, if you will indulge me.”

Cho seemed curious, the depressing air lifting as his eyes focused on the assassin, who was standing with his palms up, his fingers curved upwards as if gripping a wine glass.

For once Victor seemed to be in a mode of intense focus, his hands pooling together light from the environment, little rainbows of colour seeming to appear from nowhere and pooling in Victor’s hands. Unlike with his usually instantaneous summons, the light from these orbs seemed much more vibrant and dense. A small bead of sweat dripped from Victor’s forehead as he was left with two perfect glowing spheres.

“Tada!”

“What are they?” Cho stared, his face getting closer to examine the orbs of light.

“I just stole Omni’s testicles!” Victor cackled as Cho hopped back.

“Relax, I just ripped some of my Omnilum away, hopefully, that replenishes over time. If I have made these right, they should act like the fountain in my last world and allow us to return to life no matter how badly our bodies get messed up! Now, don’t start doing a me and dying for no reason, ripping away a chunk of your very body because you don’t want your cute apprentice to get permanently killed takes a lot out of you.”

Victor gasped then as he fell backwards into a chair, a look of genuine exhaustion written across his face.

“The only thing we need now is your DNA.”

Cho looked at Victor who stared back.

“Yes, beat off into the magic revival orb, that is what I was going for, just give me some hair so we can plan our tactics,” Victor said with a giggle. Cho rolled his eyes as he plucked a hair from his head and handed it over to the assassin, who placed it onto one of the glowing orbs, the multi-faceted light quickly absorbing the fibre as the glow started to reflect Cho’s recent memories.

“Keep it and you will be fine.”

Turning to the girl that Cho had been conversing with, Victor smiled politely “You certainly talk the talk miss, but how about I give you the chance to walk the walk, and become part of something bigger than any of us?”

She eyed him up and down, not exactly sure what she had just witnessed as Victor offered her his hand as he managed to drag himself to his feet.

“The name is Victor Wolfe, Emperor of Neo New Babylon, and we could use people like you”

 

[Roy Mustang]

The loudspeaker repeated its call for contestants a third time as Mustang left the library. There was little point in dwelling on it further. Syntech assured people that their participation in this event would not be permanently lethal, but that was not a lie he could hide behind. He was a monster, little different from that blood-soaked idiot, despite his best efforts. Soon he would inflict pain, kill or be killed, for another empty cause. That was what it meant to be a State Alchemist, so he would do his job. Consequences would have to wait, unless he planned to simply lay down on the island and wait for death to find him.

The door hissed open as the human weapon stepped into the elevator. A series of dings marked his movement, the various domes of the comet fell away as he neared the barracks. It was a much more spartan building, the pageantry of the pre-game largely abandoned so the contestants could prepare for the brutality that awaited them during the event. Everyone wanted a show? He'd give them one. Mustang took a deep breath, the mask of easy confidence settled back into place with a comfortable familiarity. The elevator door swished open, Mustang taking in the collection of contestants with a quick glance about the room.

The madman was here. Mustang spotted him down the hallway, his mannerisms betraying him despite the transformation that clothes and a wash had done for his appearance. The hapless target of his focus withstanding his questions with a composure that Mustang would not have expected from his apparent youth. He could hear the shouting of the punk kid from the restaurant interspliced with a much calmer voice that Mustang recognized but couldn't place.

Three other contestants were here in the common room. A blond man was standing quite at ease as he regarded a rather stern looking woman like he was waiting for a response. A third fellow stood off to the side of them, clearly listening to the exchange, but content to remain silent for the moment. Mustang nodded to the three of them as he entered, then settled into another chair, arms crossed. Mustang idly listened to the blonde's pitch about his apparent kingdom as the alchemist waited for any other contestants who had yet to arrive.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund frowned a little as his race was interrupted. He was certain that he would have pulled through on the last lap, but that would have to wait for another time. The cultist wished his new friends goodbye and started towards the barracks. He had been far too distracted to think about the competition, but he was suddenly buzzing with excitement. Though he hoped we wouldn't have to fight any of his new friends, or his old ones for that matter, the prospect of watching people fall to insanity in a death game was far too exciting for him to feel any concern.

The barracks were beginning to pick up with activity, the contestants milling about with reactions ranging from eagerness to anxiety. The high priest pushed through the crowd, glancing at the numbered doors of the barracks. When he came to room number 11, Sigmund crept inside, closing the door behind him. The room itself was simple, with only the essentials, exactly how he liked it. The cultist noticed a locker at the foot of his bed, but it wouldn't budge when he attempted to open it. Shrugging, he let it be and pondered what to do next.

Still buzzing with excitement, the mindbreaker decided that there would be no better time to meditate and offer a few prayers before the competition. Sigmund lowered himself to his knees, closed his eyes and laid his hands in his lap.

“Glory to Gal’skap, greatest of the Old Gods. I offer the coming madness up to you. In your name, terror will flay their minds and horror shall strip them clean until only madness remains, until only You remain. Glory to you, oh mad father above.” The cultist whispered, his mind utterly clear aside from his prayers. Complete silence of the soul was something Sigmund hadn't been able to enjoy much since his arrival in the crossroads and he had missed it dearly. The scion slipped deeper into his trance, losing awareness of the room around him. It was only him and Gal’skap now. Listening intently, the cultist could almost hear the voice of his God, ancient and unknowable to those of lesser minds.

Before he could listen to the eldritch whisperings of the Mad God, however, Sigmund was jolted back to reality by the excited ramblings of the contestants outside.

“How annoying.” The psion groaned as he rose to his feet. Suddenly, he realised that Victor had asked him here. “I suppose I should go meet him.”

The high priest rose to his feet, straightening his robes and reaching for his tome before remembering it was back in Neo New Babylon. With a small frown, he left the room and, after a moment of wondering where the emperor would be, decided to check the common area first. Pushing through the crowd of excited contestants, Sigmund spotted Victor speaking to a pair of strangers, one of which looked positively mortified.

“Harassing innocent bystanders again, Victor?” The cultist asked, walking up to the trio.

“Ah, Sigmund.” The assassin said, flashing his signature grin as he turned to the high priest. “It's been too long. Did Dave get the Dataverse Device to you without any trouble?”

“Yeah. He’s an awfully nervous one.” The psion glanced over at the young man and woman standing nearby. “So, friends of yours?”

“Oh, you two have never met.” Victor said. He was slightly surprised but didn't miss a beat as he turned to the man. “Sigmund, this is Cho, my lovely apprentice. Cho, this is Sigmund, my lovely high priest.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Cho.” The cultist said, shaking the youth’s hand before leaning in. “Don't worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Uh, likewise.” Cho responded. The boy wore a look of resignation on his face that Sigmund knew far too well.

“Nice to meet you too…” The cultist said, turning to the woman standing nearby.

“Kayleigh.” She responded with a measured tone.

“I was just offering my new friend here a place in our glorious empire.” Victor said, his wolfish grin widening a little.

“Well, Kayleigh, I may be a little biased but I'd recommend you take him up on that offer.” The high priest said. He hadn't expected to be entering the abyss alone, but he hadn't factored in Victor’s sheer charisma when it came to recruiting some capable friends.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

As the night dragged on, Mickey Mouse went nighty-night far sooner than most other competitors. Near midnight, a strange beeping sounded off from within his bedside table, and he shot up.

Was he already on the island? Were people shooting a big laser gun at him? Was he himself shooting the gauntlet of iron?

...or was it just a cell phone?

He confirmed that by opening the drawer and sliding to unlock the device. He supposed he wouldn’t be able to take it on the island, but it seemed Karl was making sure the more technologically-challenged contestants would be able to read his infamous ‘Power Feelings.’ Mickey didn’t fully grasp what he meant by that, especially since it seemed incredibly different than what Play, Boy! meant by ‘power feelings.’

When the page opened, he skimmed.

“Eh,” he sighed, “no one gives a ding-dang what you think, Karl.”

He tossed the phone back in the drawer and plopped back down on his pillow. It didn’t take long for him to drift back to sleep.

 

[Remilia Scarlet]

The flicker of unreality that hits you when you cross over through a teleporter was never something you quite got over, a feeling like the worst shiver you’ve ever had going across you as your body subtly realized you’re in two places at once and panics. Not unlike when you’re half drunk, watching professional wrestling for three houses straight without getting up, and you feel a jolt because your brain is checking to see if you’re dead. For me, it was something I learned to survive. Too many times did I go through a horrible green flash in some hell-spawned fortress to be on the wrong end of a fireball. You learn to dodge through the nausea, and clear the enemies out before you try and find which way was up again. I came through the end to find myself back in the familiar accommodations of the DA observation platform.

The starting place for contestants to learn a little about each other before they were elbow deep into each other’s entrails, spectators got to learn how strong their nerves were, and Karl Jak cackled like a little boy with ants and a magnifying glass. All from the safety of a mile over whatever soon to be blasted hellhole the battle royal took place. I could guess it would be yet another island. Predictable.

“Um.” My sense were caught by an attendant who looked to me, shakily looking up from their PDA “You’re requested at-”

“Yeah, I know where to go.” I waved them off, and headed off towards the barracks. A beer would have been nice to have before I got back to killing people. I sighed, slightly nostalgic for Guu and her company, and zoomed upwards as I walked into the elevator to the participant section.

The Barracks, capital B there, was exactly how I expected it to look. A sparse main room, doors sectioning off fighters from each other. A last place for everyone to see each before they had to learn how to get their heads between the legs to kiss their asses goodbye. There was a part of me that wanted to just shut myself in my room before the countdown started, but I admit I was a little starved of human interaction. I glanced around the room, seeing the strange collection of people I’d have expected to be here.

Of note, was one of goldilocks flunkies, a schemey little rat named… Richter? Vector? Something. If that golden boy was around here… I can’t lie, a very big smile ran across my face as I thought about meeting that jackass again in battle. This time, he won’t walk away with a bump on the head.

“Can you believe that nonsense?” I said to no one in particular, as I thumbed over to the twit. “Neo New Babylon, sounds like a strip club.”

 

[Aku]

Things were now beginning to get more interesting in this game that Aku found himself tangled. Not only mortals that will participate as he thinks but other beings that evolve over than being simple anatomy. The new little girl's smell was no human, but her scent reeked as a god. This game entered a new level of fascinating in Aku's mind from the first five players he interacted along. The new faces did not make his outer ego drop, but his inner ego is telling him that preparation is a must if everyone will witness the precious fantastic victory in the master of evil's name. Not only uneasiness that enters his mind, but annoyance comes quickly upon the unworthy gun that Aku is operating.

"FILTHY MORTAL-MADE GARBAGE!" Aku rages at the rifle, slamming it upon the makeshift table connected to the booth.

"WATCH THIS AND FEAR LITTLE GIRL!" Aku smiles twistedly, turning his head away after speaking to her.

His eyes glow with white hotness as an eyebeam shoots outward upon the dummy target. The laser hits the target successfully and disintegrates into tiny dust particles. As from earlier, luck is indeed on this demon's side. Thousands of years filled with evil experience and torturing others fuel Aku to live another day. Interruption and his scratchy roaring voice made the tiny goddess want to shut him up.

Kopaka is there to do that job, and the toa of ice speaks his mind out loud up to Aku's face. Though, that didn't help to make him stay quiet as laughter booms from the demon's gaping mouth. Boy, this edgy icicle thing reminds him of Samurai Jack. At least Kopaka will fill out the void that Samurai Jack occupied back in Aku's glory days of ruling earth. He has nothing to fear about ice destroying him.

Really, how is ice going to tear down this manifestation of darkness?

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? GIVE ME A COLD? AHAHAHAHAHA!" the shogun of laughter throws his head back at how this scene is comical in his eyes.

An announcement alerts all players must report to the barracks for the evening. Everyone in the shooting range started to make his way to the door, but Aku continues laughing.

After that, the demon was the only one remaining in the shooting range. The laughter comes to a halt as Aku straightens himself out. He proceeds to leave the dojo and make way to the barracks. Traffic is making a wait time to board the elevator. Seeing half of the contestants now that he will be facing, gives off a mixture of aroma. It contained mortals, supernatural, and godlike that filled his wicked nostrils.

It's going to be confusing on who is who while crammed in the same living space. Aku's arms cross each other, waiting for his turn to get on the elevator. Irritation fills Aku's face about the slow speed of the conveyor. In the next queue of contestants, the dark demon successfully squeezes himself in with the others. The elevator rises to the top, and it sinks a bit because of the weight.

A ding alarm alerts the passengers that they have to reach the floor. Everyone is bustling in the barracks as the master of evil witnesses. People were chatting amongst them as if some appear to be pals. During the matter, Aku had no interest quarreling with the other contestants. Food is on his mind plus something to quench his thirst.

Pepsi and snake vending machines are available in the hallway, facing the doors that had numbers to identify the contestant's living corridor. The shogun of hunger made his way for the vending machines, passing by strangers and five familiar faces. Currency is required to obtain any food or drink but no money in Aku's pockets. An idea pops inside his brain to bypass paying. He reaches down toward the vending machine's opening. His arm flattens out paper-thin to fit in the machine's guts. The master of evil's division snakes around inside the Pepsi vending machine to obtain soda.

Success, Aku grabs a can without paying any money. He brings the soda out from the machine and cracks the can open. The shogun of thirstiness takes a sip to test the taste for his approval. Pepsi tasted sweet yet carbonated inside his mouth. Aku enjoys the drink, proceeding to grab four more cans. He does the same stealing technique as well for the snack machine. Although, the snacks were easy to grasp because all that Aku had to do was bend and stretch pass the glass window.

Aku obtains a bag of jalapeno-flavored chips and one twinkie. Satisfied by acquiring food, the master of snacks proceeds down the hall to find his room. One door, unusually coated in ice, that the shogun of sorrow passes. A dirty smile spread throughout his face, knowing who occupies that room.

"04"

The snacks and four cans of soda were set down, against the wall next to the door. Aku cracks his knuckles before balling both into a fist. Kopaka's door is knocking and banging violently by the master of mischievousness. This prank was to disturb the toa's meditation since Aku found it hilarious. Afterward, the demon grabs his belongings and laughs uncontrollably.
Everyone within the barracks could hear this awful series of laughter, sounding to be an obnoxious orchestra.

The shogun of sorrow makes a quick dash to find his room while hearing a green space marine saying something funny about one of the contestants.

"HA! GOOD ONE, GREEN MORTAL!" the demon chuckles at the space marine's funny remark about one of the contestants

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

Malloki's brow cocked in question at Jack's statement. pfft! Death game! But of course, he was asked a question and it would be rude to deny him an answer. "Malloki Tuwile! And I am indeed a contestant in Karl's happy fun time! Don't worry, they may call it a 'blood sport' but I've played this game on my own with anyone I meet! You just play till someone goes for the long sleepy sleep!" Kawai no Jutsu melting brain cells once again.

"Sleepy... sleep?"

"You don't KNOW about the sleepy sleep?" The unhinged man let out a hearty chuckle. "Well let me tell you about the long sleepy sleep. See, in the beginning there's a mommy and a daddy, and when Daddy gets super drunk and very horny, they make a baby! So for about nine months, there's a short sleepy sleep... and then after you're born and live a while, there's a long sleepy sleep." That was more insight into this man's mind than he wanted.

So much so that Jak turned his eyes away from the glimmering pools of bloodlust and malice that swelled behind those dark orbs. This man thrived on this stuff. This was a competition to everyone else. To the man standing before the eco warrior, this was a derivative of his day to day life. "So I take it you're here to win then? Kill everyone and take the prize?"

"Ehh. I don't think I'll get to play pattycake with everyone, but I'll try for as many as I can! Even if I lose this Carlos guy's game... I still win. ... You know what I mean?" That glimmer of delight, the shiver that visibly shook Malloki and the way his grin threatened to tear his face apart had Jak unsure how to respond for a moment.

"I can't say I do..."

"Ehh, you'll figure it out sooner or later. Anyway, I'm gonna head on to get some rest before the big game!" The chipper voice did not skip a beat as he added, "I hope we see each other there. I'd love to teach you first hand." With that... Malloki departed. Jak had a hand up with a digit extended as he tried to find a response, any response, to the befuddling conversation he had just held.

But nothing came. He was left unsure of who or what he had just spoken to as he dipped into good ol' room number ten... because he was pretty sure that one was his. Then again, he was pretty sure he had changed in the men's room.[/B][/B]