Day 1

[Victor Wolfe]

Victor landed onto the island, removing his parachute and approaching a nearby cliff The waves sent white sea foam splashing up to the sheer edges as Victor tossed the likely useless parachute over the edge, watching it disappear into the seafoam as he scanned his surroundings. Thankfully the drop had been a smooth one and no one was around to instantly get the drop on him. Looking up at the helicopter he dropped from Victor sighed.

“You know, for someone who is all about no expense, why is he still using helicopters and airdrops when he clearly has teleporters, and this world has interplanetary travel with ships. Did he spend too much on the wine he sucks at drinking? I guess we will never know.” Victor chuckled to himself as he moved away from the cliffs, not wanting someone to get an easy victory and just throw him over the edge.

Taking stock Victor sorted through the supplies, some of the godawful field meals that tended to hit the stomach with all the subtlety of Ahana on a murder spree. Water, probably the second most important thing in the pack and finally his weapon… Where was the weapon?

Pulling out what appeared to be a standard container Victor closed his eyes holding the bridge of his nose.

“Ok, What in Diablo’s burning underverse is this? Who knows, maybe when opened it heals all wounds or summons that creepy guy with the mask from a few years back. Shame if it doesn’t, violent shy boys certainly qualify for my strike zone” Victor said, licking his lips as he packed away his supplies.

“Well, may as well see just what the collar will allow this time. If only I had a target to test...”

Hopping out of its hole came a rabbit, its eyes darting around as it watched out for predators. It hopped forward slowly, nibbling on blades of grass as it went. The emperor sighed as he turned to his side, keeping the bunny inside his view whilst pretending to ignore the creature.

Much like the mouse, a rabbit had been a cause of much embarrassment, managing to avoid his weakened state all those years ago. Now just behind the rabbit’s burrow, Victor kneeled down, the salty wind blowing through the assassins hair as his hands felt the dew-covered grass beneath his fingers. Bursting forwards with frightening speed the rabbit let out a loud screech as it was caught out in the open, trying to rush away Victor adjusted his trajectory and landed a picture-perfect sliding tackle, a loud crunch filling the air.

Scampering to a standing position Victor placed his foot onto the neck of the struggling bunny, the two-inch heel on the back of his boot holding it in place. “You know, I probably should let it go, have a little bit of mercy. But no, vermin like you cause enough problems, plus probably taste better than the MREs.”

The rabbit eventually stopped struggling, awaiting its cruel fate as it stared up at Victor.
“Dang it rabbit, when you look at me like that you remind me of my daughter, so sweet, and short.”

Victor brought the heel of his boot backwards as he crushed the bunnies windpipe with a snap.

“And if she ever allowed herself to end up in such a bad position I might have to kill her for embarrassing the family name!”

Wiping some of the gore from his shoe Victor chucked the carcass of the rabbit into his backpack and looked at his weapon.

“Why after that you could almost say I am a R rated superstar”

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

In the dust cloud and shrapnel, it was impossible to tell which way he was going. He could only cackle. The sounds echoed through the low rumble of shrapnel pelting the pulverized earth.

More. There was SO MUCH MORE.

So close! He was so close to meeting Dolloki again!

Malloki rose to his feet but immediately fell as his ankle simply turned sideways like a crossdresser practicing for a catwalk. The crunch brought another sickening howl to spread through the cloud.

“Again! HAhahaAAA AGAIN!” The burns ached and the dust nearly choked him with each lungful. Still, his fingers clawed at the dirt. He crawled about on his knees, dragging his limp foot behind him at a horrid angle.

The burns covering his chest and spiderwebbing up his neck displayed the tensity of the veins throbbing to his jaw. His grin was out of this world with the venom in each scorched tooth. “More! MORE GAMES! Gotta go on! Gotta play!”

As the dust cleared, he saw no one in sight… so he continued on his warpath.

There was a third blip in that line of fun. Who could it be this time?

Who would finish the game?

 

[Solomon Grundy]

Okuyasu maneuvered over what seemed like a settlement, scanning for movement, but once he got close enough he could see what it really was.

A theme park!

It looked kinda like Lucky Land, and the blue suited youth hadn't seen anyone moving around, so it appeared he had the place to himself. Landing in a cloud of exhaust as his weapon powered down, he hefted the straps and looked around. There was a fun house, a merry go round, a dark and probably unpowered midway...and....a roller coaster!

Okuyasu looked around again as an afterthough, before rushing towards the long, rickety line of fences that made up a queue to the entrance. "Oh man! I haven't been on a roller coaster, in like...gyhhh.....ten years!" He fondly remembered a day in his youth when Keicho had managed to sneak aome cash from their father's wallet, and they took the train to the amusement park. It was one of the few memories of his brother he cherished now that he was gone. The darkness and despair that had taken the elder Nijimura's heart befoee his death had no place in Okuyasu's memory. He looked up at the sky for a moment, a happy look on his face as he hopped into one of the roller coaster cars.

The Hand sprinkled into existence at the terminal console, reaching forth with it's gauntlet of destruction to pull the start lever with two of it's fingers. The chunky, synthetic looking cylinders daintily pushed down, and the coaster started with a lurch as Okuyasu threw his hands up and recalled his Stand. "Hahahah! Yeah! This island is awesome!" Such cries of merriment on a death game were unusual, although more than a few of the viewers watching at home would no doubt empathize with the plucky student's desire to have fun amidst a life or death situation.

 

[Roy Mustang]

“The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Stop trying to cheat and go fight people!” came the automated voice of Karl Jak from the phone’s speaker once again. Mustang grit his teeth, taking the iPhone away from his ear. This “weapon” confirmed for him that Syntech wasn’t all that interested in a contest of skill. They just wanted a good show for their audience.

He glanced up from his map at the dense foliage that surrounded him, thankful for the compass to give any sense of direction. Even the enormous mountain at the center of the island was obscured from this angle. He needed a more open space; it would be far too easy to be ambushed from this position. Mustang slipped the phone into one of his uniform’s pockets, flashlight peaking over the top. At least he wouldn’t twist his ankle wandering in the dark.

The State alchemist moved through the underbrush with a determined gait. As the morning light started to lighten the sky, he left the undergrowth behind him. Mustang stepped out onto a weather-beaten cliff face. A much better view, and despite how visible he likely was out here, Mustang was tempted to wait for the sunrise from his perch.

His attention was drawn however, by a large figure moving steadily across the landscape. He hesitated for a moment, considering letting the contestant pass until he had some weapon to defend himself with. He did, however, have the advantage of not being cornered, perhaps he could work together with an equally desperate ally. If this didn’t work well, he could hopefully outpace the metallic being.

“Hey down there!” Mustang called, picking his way down the cliff face to approach the ten-foot-tall cyborg. Ashe-0 turned, singular eye focusing on him as he descended the slope.

“You chose not to strike from surprise, and I see no weaponry. Are you unarmed?” she asked with a typically flat tone.

“You might say I have a most intricate and expense hand-held projectile” Mustang responded, halting about twenty feet away and holding up his new iPhone with a small shake.

“I see. I am similarly lacking in weaponry” she responded, letting her defenses drop slightly.

“This looks like it’ll be more of a war of attrition for either of us than any sort of swift victory. Any reason not to have another set of eyes to look out for the big threats until we’re able to fight them off?” he asked with a shrug. Mustang stowed the phone away and put his hands in his pockets. “To tell you the truth, I don’t much like the idea of hiding in a hovel until somebody finds me.”

Ashe-0 did not immediately respond as she assessed the alchemist.

“Very well.” She intoned eventually. “Follow me, I’ve a destination in mind.”

 

[Pecan]

And there we were. Man, it was almost too much. Just breathing in the air of that sweet sweet abyss. There was an almost kind of electricity in the air. You know, the kind of feeling you get moments before a good date becomes a fantastic date. That’s what your boy Pecan was feeling. There I was, hanging out in the Arbiter-damned Abyss. And, yes, that is Abyss with a capital “A”. This was big leagues, and here I was, fresh and ready to get my toes wet. I’d be a fucking liar if I didn’t say I had at least a half-chub.

That is disgusting

HARMONY’s voice called to me, like a nun scolding a prep school kid for eating glue. She really had a way with words. By that, I meant her words had a real good way of fucking up my mojo. One minute I’m sitting there fantasizing about all the horrible things I get to do to people, and sure as shit, here comes HARMONY to rain on my parade. Honestly, of all the rogue A.I.s that could’ve gotten stuck in my head I ended up with the White Knight of Fucking Lame-Os.

Very mature, Pecan, I’m sure your mother is proud of you.

You’re damned right she is. If Mama Pecan wasn’t deaf, blind, and extremely dead she’d be beaming ear-to-ear about her baby boy finally becoming a holotube superstar. At that thought I could practically feel HARMONY rolling her nonexistent eyes at me. But, what the hell does she know anyways? Plus, this was my time to shine like a motherfuckin’ diamond baby. The silver collar around my neck was my ticket to unrestrained bloodletting. HARMONY could try her best to keep Ol’ Pecan’s sticky fingers from the proverbial murderjar, but here in the Abyss she had no power over me. Not a single thing stood between me and indulgence besides distance, and baby, I had two good legs.

So, you could imagine what I did from there. I walked. At night, there was nothing to guide me besides starlight. Murky rock formations passed me by, like big dumb ships in the night. For the first time since I had arrived in the Abyss I truly contemplated just how much walking there would be. Way too much walking to be exact. Whatever happened to the simple good ol’ fashioned death cage? Two psychopaths enter, one psychopath leaves. Hell, sometimes neither of them left. Pure and perfect murder, distilled into an easily digestible format. Well, it was too late now, I was in for the long and hopefully bloody haul. Besides all this walking gave me time to rifle through my pack and silently thank Karl for the gifts I had received. Most of it was mundane crap like food and water, but at the bottom of my pack was two little beautiful gifts from the big man himself. They were nothing like my scrap grenades, they lacked that certain homemade “arts and crafts” vibe my little balls of gunpowder had, but they had a certain charm to them. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not whip them out right then and there, but this was the big leagues. I couldn’t just blow my load in one go. What would Karl think of me then?

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#06 Ashe-0 & #07 Roy Mustang vs #25 Pecan
​

Karl Jak yawned. It wasn’t because of boredom. After all, much like Mama Pecan’s Baby Boy, he sported a half-Chubbs during the majority of this competition. Nor did he yawn out of need for sleep, because he had left those goofy needs behind with the assistance of a fifty-caliber pistol. It sure as hell would have been strange to come from being king of a castle to having to eat, sleep, and piss like a regular person.

No, he yawned because the man next to him had done so. Even to a cosmic space god, a yawn was still a deadly contagious thing.

“Get out of here, Kevin. Go get some sleep, because if you make me yawn a second time, I’m going to put you on island clean up.”

The redheaded man sat upright in his chair at the sound of Karl’s ‘stern’ voice, and with just a simple nod, he excused himself from the observation station.

“Now then,” Karl Jak spoke to the remaining crew. “Where were we?”

***​

Roy Mustang and his large robotic companion had spaced themselves out to cover more ground and to allow themselves to better scan their surroundings. Despite being strangers to one another, the combination of military experience and robotic acumen had allowed the pair to mesh rather effectively ‘on the battlefield’.

As they traversed a particularly large ravine, the two kept their eyes peeled on their ‘noon’ and their ‘six’ throughout the journey. Both of them had noticed that the sky was starting to lighten from an endless black to what could best be described as a deep purple. It appeared that they might even be able to observe the sunrise at the end of the ravine, if not for the fact that neither of them likely had an interest in any such frivolities.

For all their calculations and clever savvy about traversing the terrain, neither had bothered to take into consideration the fact that the island was full of many ‘variables’ that didn’t necessarily follow what made the most sense.

One such uncontrolled variable was Pecan, who had stalked the pair from atop the tall walls of the ravine. Said variable proceeded to dive down from the wall of said ravine and land on the back of Roy Mustang with enough force to crack the dried earth beneath them.

“Holy hell, no splat? The fuck is this… let’s add some red,” Pecan smiled like a boy in a candy store as he grabbed a fistful of Roy’s head and slammed the alchemist’s face into the ground. The splat and the splash of blood from the man’s nose widened his assailant’s grin. “THAT’S the goods!”

Before Pecan could continue to tenderize Roy’s face, his vision was stolen from him as a translucent sack closed around his face and tugged him backwards. While he was pulled from his position of dominance over the small man, Pecan regained his senses quick enough to grab a fist full of bag and tear it apart, freeing his face back up to the early morning air. “Is this shit a fucking plastic baggie? Who the fuck?” Pecan turned around and found himself staring at the abdomen of a ten-foot woman. Lifting his gaze, he found himself being stared down at by a cycloid Amazon with fucking elf ears and too many arms.

“What cheat codes did this asshole over her use to unlock you?” Pecan asked before he had to dive to avoid a pair of robotic fists. Scrambling forward, he threw himself – shoulder-first – at the woman’s leg. On impact, he felt the limb shudder, but he also felt a distinct metallic thud as pain blossomed out from his shoulder and down into the tips of his fingers. Even as the hands closed around his shirt, Pecan couldn’t help but sneer. He had been right all along. This was going to be some of the finest killing he’d done in a good, long time.

Ashe-0 hurled the man against the wall of the ravine, and without missing a bit, the towering war machine stepped forward, grabbed the vertical rock wall, and wrenched it downward.

For his part, Pecan was mobile before he could be crushed underneath the avalanche, but the man still absorb a handful of blows from falling debris as he was forced to backpedal away from the groaning soldier and his metal Amazonian.

“Are your injuries critical?” Ashe-0 asked Roy as the machine stared through the mass of stones and earth brought down by the rockslide. She doubted that the manic human could scale this mess without alerting them to his presence and leaving himself open for attack, but the current situation dictated increased caution.

“I’ll live,” Roy Mustang grumbled as he stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes. The man’s face was bruised, and blood caked its lower half. Even still, he managed to restore himself to his standard military posture as he gestured for Ashe-0 to follow him. They were nearly out of the ravine now, and there was no telling what else might be lurking in the shadows up above them.

Results

29 Contestants Remain​

Roy’s face is bruised and his nose is broken (Minor Injury)
Ashe-0 has damage to her leg that will be a lingering nuisance to her (Story Injury)
Pecan has a variety of scrapes on his body (Story Injury)

Pecan used one application of Focus

The Plastic Bag is destroyed

Roy Mustang, Ashe-0, and Pecan are on a 12 hour cooldown where they cannot be in a F2F, unless they waive this right by PM'ing me.

 

[Kefka Palazzo]

“Ow.”

He blinked.

I’m on the ground? How odd.

How odd, indeed. With a groan, he pushed himself up off the ground. Everything hurt.

Everything hurt?

“Interesting and unwelcome,” he growled, observing a little crimson stripe open across his otherwise blemishless flesh.

He was hurt. He could hurt. What delicious unexpectedness. What wonderful happenstance. What inconvenient blasphemy.

Whoever stripped him of his godhood, he would teach them. After all, he’d had to earn his apotheosis once already.

He would simply do it again.

“A god,” he paused, letting out a shrill, whooping chuckle. Oh, he was a god, alright. God of divine punishment. And evidently, punishment desperately needed meting out.

A vast jungle stretched out before him, and a glittering sea danced behind his back. He could hear the sounds of insects, birds, the rush of rapids or falls.

He looked around, unsatisfied. This wasn’t his World of Ruin. This was all… lush. And green, and- and- …alive.

Kefka growled, feeling the weight of the collar around his neck. He grabbed at the heavy, metal object and tugged. It held fast, as he’d expected. Perhaps it was responsible for his lack of godhood.

He trudged ahead, toward the noisy, life-infested jungle, already irate about the fact he was about to get his clothes dirty – and likely he’d be the victim of insect bites.

He hated insect bites.

And insects.

“Well,” he mused, unable to stop the bubbling laughter from coloring his words. “Omnipotence was… unstimulating. Perhaps this is just what I needed.”

He clapped his hands together and gave a quiet cheer. And slaughtering those responsible will be the icing on this little kidnap surprise confection.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Two feet behind the mouse, a craggy cliff portended a steep drop in altitude. Two feet in front of him, Gilgamesh’s weapon aimed to trigger a steep drop in temperature. Neither option seemed ideal.

Mickey’s small chest heaved up and down. The Kings’ eyes locked on each other, each of their scowls unmoving. Naturally, Gilgamesh was the first other competitor Mickey met; it made perfect sense when he thought it through. Karl Jak wouldn’t settle for anything else than an incredibly dramatic start, and this certainly fit the bill.

Yet the Golden King hadn’t frozen him solid — yet. He scrambled for a plan.

Gilgamesh’s eyes darted toward Mickey’s duffel at the sound of the zipper. The Babylonian’s brow crinkled nervously as a gloved hand slipped inside. He couldn’t see what it grasped, but he wouldn’t let the rodent get the best of him. His finger slid back to the trigger—

“Catch!” Mickey shouted, and suddenly, Gilgamesh fumbled. The freeze ray fell haphazardly from his hand as he maneuvered to catch the strange metallic object suddenly flying towards him. His fingers closed around it, and he took it in, realizing it was some sort of sword hilt without a blade. Mickey watched carefully as the other king examined his weapon, then turned his gaze back to the incapacitated mouse.

“What is this, rodent?” he asked, his voice a mixture of frustration and apprehension.

“Flip the switch, pal,” the mouse urged, waving a hand commandingly in Gilgamesh’s direction.

Gilgamesh gritted his teeth at Mickey Mouse’s insolence but followed the orders nevertheless. His armored fingers brushed over this ‘switch,’ and suddenly it hummed to life. An unstable beam of crimson energy burst from the hilt, just as some smaller, identical ones erupted from the crossbeam. Gilgamesh held the energy sword away from his body so as not to singe himself with the flickering blade.

Mickey, too, eyed the weapon curiously. He’d only tested it once in his climb down the cliff-side to this plateau and this ill-fated reunion, and the way the red energy danced in the darkness still fascinated him. He wasn’t quite sure what it… did, exactly, but he knew one thing about it: when he’d held it earlier, the blade radiated heat. Gilgamesh looked back at the mouse quizzically, and Mickey nodded toward his frozen leg.

“You wish me to release you, mongrel?” the golden-armored boy scoffed. “After all the torment you’ve caused me these many years?”

“Let it go, Blondie,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Geez.”

Gilgamesh huffed, and Mickey sighed. So this would be harder than he thought, then.

Mickey Mouse fixed his stare at the king before him, his scowl growing deeper. For many moments, the two kings remained there, gazes locked. The gentle, low hum of the lightsaber melded with the chitter-chatter of nocturnal insects, a symphony orchestrating the sweeping score of their staring contest. Until finally, Gilgamesh’s nostrils flared and he let out a frustrated grunt.

“So be it.”

He pressed the lightsaber’s blade gently against the ice encrusting Mickey’s leg, and in the blink of an eye, it melted. After a small inspection, the mouse determined that Gilgamesh’s freeze ray hadn’t caused significant damage (aside from being heckin’ cold, of course). Before the golden boy could react, Mickey leapt for the freeze ray and scooped it into his hands, pointing it at Gilgamesh’s chest. The King of New Babylon dropped into a fighting stance, brandishing the lightsaber.

“You show your true colors, cur,” he growled. “I should’ve known you could not be trusted.”

“Oh ho,” Mickey scoffed, “you can trust me, sonny. I’m still figuring out if I can trust you.”

This standoff lasted a much shorter time before Gilgamesh acquiesced. “I will return your blade if you return my gun,” he oozed slimily, reaching out with his empty hand and opening it. Mickey didn’t verbally respond, but he lifted the freeze ray up and gently placed it in his rival’s palm, letting go only in the exact moment he’d wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the lightsaber.

The weapons had been traded back, but neither king abandoned his fighting stance. Years of hatred and mistrust had been woven into their messed up bond, and one heart-to-heart above a treacherous canyon wasn’t going to heal all that damage.

But in Gilgamesh, Mickey Mouse saw the hint of familiarity he’d been searching for when he entered into this competition. Deep inside the mouse’s heart, he’d been searching for a reason to let trust take the wheel this time, in this brand new universe, and what better opportunity did he have to take a leap than with this young man with whom that trust didn’t come so easily?

He’d been searching for purpose. For the next adventure. Was Gilgamesh it?

Or at least the beginning of it?

The lightsaber’s blade shrank back into the hilt, and Mickey relaxed his fighting stance. “Look, fella, if we fought now, we’d kill each other,” the mouse king shrugged. “I don’t know practically anyone here or what the heck’s happening. The least we can do is help each other not die for the moment.”

Gilgamesh sneered as he considered this, tentatively lowering the freeze ray. He turned his back on his diminutive rival, stepping toward the edge of the cliff face and gazing off at the rest of the island. Mickey saw through the thinly-veiled test. Would the mouse go for the easy kill, now? Or would he leave it be?

Moments passed, and Gilgamesh glanced over his shoulder. “Hm,” he mused, “Mickey Mouse. Are you taller, rodent?”

So… that was Gilgamesh’s way of saying ‘yes,’ then? A smile crept its way onto Mickey’s face against his better judgment. He supposed it’d be too much to ask the King of Heroes to be outright friendly, so this would have to do.

“Collar, pal,” Mickey tugged at the uncomfy neckwear. “It’s weirder this time.”

“Undoubtedly,” Gilgamesh scoffed. “I am not your pal, rodent. You will address me as your Majesty.”

“Ehhhhhh,” Mickey giggled, “maybe let’s meet in the middle, huh! How ‘bout… King of Pals?”

 

[Kopaka]

After his run in with the Malloki human, Kopaka briskly made his way deeper into the refuge the map had indicated. The city began abruptly, exploding out of the ground like a fungus made of twisting pipes and churning gears. Tall stacks of riveted iron loomed gently, with steaming vents in place of windows. It reminded Kopaka very much of what the inside of a Toa might look like, and the thought was cloying.

The sky was beginning to turn from a ruddy purple into warm peach-tones as he strode down the lonely, loud streets. His mechanical steps began to fall naturally into rhythm with the city's heartbeat, and he idly spent time wondering at what the overall function of this artifice could be. Kopaka shook his head, and caught his thoughts before they could wander too far. For now, his lymphatic systems were beginning to feel strain, and his frame needed to rest.

Two swift kicks managed to smash in the bulky door of what appeared to be a power substation. In a few moments, he had welded the door shut with a coating of ice. There didn't appear to be any rear exits or means of entry, which essentially meant Kopaka was trapped.

But quite comfortably so.

The bionicle dropped the bag from his shoulders, and slid his back down the wall until he came to a sitting squat. A few orange sulfur-bulbs shed dirty light across the clanking machinery in the room, and seemed to create more shadows than actual light. The Toa spent some time trying to assess the function of the various pistons, governers, and motors, but eventually gave up. It appeared to be nothing but loud, well-arranged nonsense.

Kind of like the entire competition, he noted.

Kopaka wearily glanced over at the duffel bag and pawed around in it for one of the ration packages. He carefully unwrapped the frozen meal into individual portions, and activated his mastication array. A sound equatable only to a garbage disposal began to whir forth from his opened mouth, grinding the solid nutrients loudly each time he popped a frosted morsel into his mouth.

It was inglorious, to say the least. The taste of the MRE went largely unnoticed, but then the bionicle spied one of the sauce packets inside the rucksack. He delicately unwrapped the slushy wad of seasoning and regarded it with a cold stare before sucking it down.

"Hmm." he murmured, entirely in spite of himself. These sauce flavorants were...good. He stared at the crumbled plastic in his hand, and then looked back at the scattering of filled packages in the bag. His aesthetic sensibilities told him that they were worthless, in every practical sense. And yet, he was glad to have them now.

It was at this point that a faint, red blinking caught Kopaka's attention from across the room. He increased the exposure setting on his electronic eyes, and was barely able to discern the outline of a closed-circuit camera. An observation point for the thrilled audiences of the Crossroads no doubt. It made his supper, and subsequent appreciation of Karl's joke that much more humiliating. A thin coating of ice spread out across the wall from where he sat, but Kopaka remained motionless.

Well, if the spectators wanted to be such persistent voyeurs, then they could simply watch him nap.

The android rested his head against the metal wall with a dull thud, and put his higher functions into sleep mode to let time pass...

 

[Arthur Morgan]

As he watched the retreating ronin’s form scamper off into the woods, Arthur felt something deep down inside of him take special notice of the injured man’s flagging steps, his obvious hurt. That something, which was far too keen, perked up in interest. It was an ugly something, twisted and dark as pit-smoke, and it was positively ravenous.

Arthur had fed that beast of the soul, once or twice before. Knew that it thirsted for blood. He could, potentially, track the other through the midnight woods… and kill a man who was just barely scraping past the cusp of adulthood, judging by that scraggly little beard.

But, something else inside him, a far nobler creature, drew him back to himself— prompted him to entertain second thoughts about chasing down a man who’d already fled for his life, to reconsider tearing him out of whatever hidey-hole he’d made for himself and brutally murdering him. Thinking about morals only brought on another reason not to continue the hunt: that the ronin might yet have something to attack Arthur with, to turn the tide of battle in his favor.

Lowering his weapon at last, Arthur decided that he had already come out on top in the deadly ambush. He could afford to wait around awhile and rest. And if the little feller came back, well… Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to shoot first.

Abruptly, Arthur smiled, stifling a chuckle into his shoulder.

Bastard thought he could rob him.

Shaking his head at the foolishness of young folks, Arthur stowed his weapon in his bag once more, then turned to survey the area with a critical eye. There, resting on the ground a few feet away, was the piece of fruit Mugen had hurled at his head.

Naturally, Arthur went over and picked it up. He couldn’t quite make out what it was in the dark, but judging by the firmness under his questing fingers, it wasn’t rotten. He could probably eat it, save himself the trouble of preparing one of those MREs and sacrificing a day’s worth of food.

Rubbing whatever dirt might’ve been on it off on his shirt (again, dark), Arthur brought the fruit to his mouth. It felt… smooth, slightly damp against his lips. As he bit into it, succulent juices dribbled onto his chin, sugary-sweet around the bitter taste of the fruit’s skin—

Arthur nearly spat that shit out, because it was a damn mango. He didn’t want to waste the food, however, so settled for chewing on it sullenly until all that remained was the sticky pit.

Casting the pit aside with a vengeance, Arthur took a much sterner gander at his surroundings. Seemed he’d left most of the misty forest behind, and all that lay before him now was the craggy slope of the mountain. It towered above him, a ringlet of pale clouds gusting around the peak, the eastern face seeming heavy with snow as opposed to the west. High-speed winds wrapped around its form, creating a chorus of discordant howls as they whistled through the many ridges of rock stacked up against it, while at the base of the mountain only the occasional breeze strayed down to tousle Arthur’s hair.

Adjusting his pack on his shoulder, Arthur reached out and wrapped his fingers around the first handhold-sized outcropping of rock, steadying himself as his boots slid across bits of shale and cast-off sediment.

If he hoped to get anywhere without venturing back the way he came, he’d need to do a little climbing.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

The crunching of sand beneath Sigmund’s feet quickly faded, replaced with footfalls muffled by soft grass and soil. Since his first outburst, the mad priest had held back the urge to shout his observations to the people at home, waiting for the right moment. He glanced out into the darkness of the woods, idly wondering if someone was watching him from the shadows. In fact, he turned to the tree line and almost shouted for whoever was there to show themself, just to see what would happen, but he decided better of it.

“Perhaps I should have dressed lighter.” Sigmund mumbled. The heat didn't bother him so much, but he was sweating profusely in his robes and his mouth was bone dry. The cultist almost reached for one of the water bottles in his bag before pausing. He had made a point to stay close to the river to save the precious liquid, but as he approached the gently gurgling stream he wondered if he was far enough from the sea for the water to be drinkable.

Taking a glance behind himself to ensure that no one was going to smother him in the riverbank, the cultist knelt down and cupped his hands in the water before raising it to his mouth. Sigmund swallowed it down before smacking his lips a few times. Satisfied that it wasn't sickeningly salty, the psion shrugged and took a few more sips before continuing on his way. He briefly considered fishing one of the food packets from his bag too, but he decided that after his big meal in the pre-show, eating could at least wait until dawn.

Time passed, Sigmund’s idle thoughts interrupted by nought but the distant burbling of the river and the sound of steel on steel as he impatiently toyed with his weapon. Humming a little tune to himself, he pulled the map back out. The scholar already had a destination in mind, he just had to find it first.

“Hrmm… Damn you, Jak.” The cultist mumbled to himself, gingerly tracing his finger along his collar as he glanced around in an attempt to orient himself. It seemed as if the forest continued on forever, even the river was far out of sight. And how long had he been walking since he took his drink? Minutes? Hours? Cursing under his breath, Sigmund stuffed the map back into his bag before pulling out the compass. After a confirming glance, he noted that he was at least going in the right direction, even if he couldn't see his destination. As if in response to his annoyance, the verdant maze began to thin before ending altogether.

“Praise Gal’skap.” The high priest grinned to himself as he entered the clearing, finding a dirt road beneath his boots and the shadow of a great abandoned city in the distance. He managed to stop himself from breaking into a run, eager to find any poor souls lost in the city but painfully aware that he was far from being in shape enough to sprint the distance.

“Soon, Sigmund, soon.” He assured himself. “Then, it'll be time to go to work.

 

[Aku]

"Oh, my head…" grumbles Aku from a forced nap made by Karl Jak by sedating the "lucky" contestants.

His eyes are currently halfway open as Syntech agents drop the godlike being into the hostile environment Karl Jak has made.

The island.

They drop off Aku into a savanna environment that barely had trees and no natural water source. The helicopter roars as the rotors spin at extreme speeds. It fills the shogun of sorrows ears with a cacophony of sounds as the chopper hovers over him. Aku's body falls toward the earth, faceplanting into the dry dirt. The impact of the fall awoke the master of darkness out from his slumber.

As he awakens, dirt fills the mouth and makes the body react by spitting it out. The helicopter drones away from Aku's landing site, making the night silent as it moves further away. Something felt off with the master of darkness' anatomy, a strange feeling he has not felt before in his entire immortal life. A sense that he dreamed of as a nightmare in his sleep. Aku picks his head up to apprehend where he settled.

Landmarks are not visible because he fell into a tall, dry grass field that blocks his vision. He got on his knees and brushed the dirt off his face before rising above the sea of grass. The grass's height reaches to his waist, brushing against his body from the calm wind. Still, it seems off how his body feels after being kicked out of the chopper. No injuries were made upon impact because the company calculated the height not to kill any competition yet.

The shogun of sorrow examines his arms and hands to see if anything happened to them. They appear normal as the black color of his skin matches the darkness of the night.

Passed his arms, the eyes of Aku widen into a shock expression with his beady black pupils growing small. He has legs connected to his torso that have actual feet with toes.

How could this be? There is no memory of him shapeshifting half his body to have legs.

There is a tight contact that feels around his neck, mimicking a choker wrapped around it.

A collar that controls Aku's fate if he makes a single mistake involving the device. Another strange sensation awaits at the top of his head. He tugs at it and realizes that it is his hair, tied up in a ponytail. His hair's color is red to match his bushy eyebrows and full-grown beard that replaces his once signature thin beard.

No, it can't be, how in the world did he transform into his human form. A body that Aku despises and instead takes a transformation of an animal or mythic creature.

The worse part for him is that he can feel nerves all over his own body, resembling a mortal's system. To give it a test, the confused master of darkness had to pinch himself.

Sure enough, he did, and the results come back with his nerves pulsating while the pinch felt like a sting.

Aku's worse nightmare comes to real-life; he lost his perfectness godlike immortality. His hands ball up into a fist as anger arises in him.

"CURSE YOU KARL JAK!" the shogun of anger screams atop his lungs, raising his head toward the sky and arms.

Small nocturnal creatures were frightened by his cry within the vicinity.

A price comes when one stubborn person does not read the fine line of a contract. Aku was unaware of the rules, stripping away his substantial powers.

He tries to grow in the colossal form that he loves to intimidate pests in his presence.

It slightly worked, but it did not please him at all.

His fiery breath and laser eye beams feel excellent as from before, putting relief upon his shoulders. Speaking of joints, the mortal of darkness feels a strap around his body. A duffel bag hangs behind Aku's back with survival supplies. Anxious to see what he had to use in this game, the shogun of sorrow opens the fabric material. Four MREs, four twenty-ounce bottles of water, a map, a compass, and a strange capsule that Aku cannot read it clearly with no light source.

This survival kit will last a couple of days for him, so he needs to gain ground quickly to find more supplies to aid his path toward a victorious end. Aku closes the bag and swings it behind him, tightening the strap that grasps the duffel bag against his back.

"WATCH CLOSELY VIEWERS AT HOME AS I AKU, THE FUTURE RULER OF ERDE NONA WILL SHOW YOU THAT NO ONE CAN DEFEAT ME! HAHAHAHAHA!" the master of laughter chuckles in his prime time, thinking that hidden cameras are watching every move he makes.

The shogun of sorrow walks through the field of grass, disappearing into the deadly first night. Darkness is his ally; he was born in it. The tour of victory has commenced, consuming the island in the name of Aku. An evil dark cloud is appearing on the horizon for this island's future.

 

[Toga Voorhees]

Somewhere on the island, a petite, blonde girl slept peacefully. The gentle crash and roar of the waves against the cliffside below was as a siren's call, bidding any listener to slumber and peaceful dreams. The nearby forest gentle swayed in the ocean breeze, accenting the chirp of the cicada.


For Toga Himiko, those dreams mostly involved the visceral torture and murder of handsome boys. Truly, what more could one ask for than to see the inner beauty of a person as their life drained from them. This was when they revealed who they really are. All that skin? Nothing but a mask to hide the true perfection beneath.


Hours earlier, the girl had, groggy and irritable, exited the helicopter and arrived at this very place. And, as soon as she had found a suitable patch of grass, she'd placed her bag as a pillow and went right to sleep. After all, a girl needed her sleep if she was going to spend the day killing people.

 

[Remilia Scarlet]

I dropped down onto the rocky cliff with little in my hands, a single duffel bag of supplies and a single weapon were my only tools I could bring. No guns. No armor. Not even a helmet to play Fortunate Son before I was kicked out of the helicopter like an unwelcome guest. I was effectively naked, and had to survive with my wits and whatever object the laughing buffoon above us saw fit. My purpose was to kill every last thing I saw, at some point or another. My motive was my own selfish desire, and all thoughts were clear save how to accomplish the utter destruction of everything that was in my way towards victory.

Well, that, and how damn cold it was up on that cliff face.

I rubbed at my arms as I watched over the side of the stoney face, the full moon above offering a little light to see what transpired below. The view was incredible, the stars in the sky a dazzling array that populated the night. The Moon took full presence this night, overcasting the entire island below in a vexing glow. It was a serine scene, unfitting with the chaos and death that was to come. I enjoyed the sight for a moment, let the frigid air steal my warmth for a moment, then opened up the bag to see what I had to work with.

It was the same as before. Enough MREs and water that was just not quite enough to last you if you survived longer than the first few days, orientation tools, and-

“What the fuck is that?” I asked aloud as I held up the remaining item in the bag. I held it aloft in the air, the moonlight illuminated the object and gave me a good view of it. It was not the worst thing I could have gotten my hands on, but I had to seriously question what this was made for and who?

Nevermind, I thought. I had to get down from my current position. I might have been able to see everyone from up here, but I was up with little cover and my height above them did little good with nothing to take advantage of it. I strapped all the lot of items onto my back and began my descent.

The climbing down was horrendous, as snow slick stone constantly threatened to throw me down to the ground in a mangled heap. Each step for some foot hold was a treacherous gamble, every second I hung from a rock could have been the time I finally pressed my luck too far. When I reached an outcropping to rest after a few hundred yards down, I had become extremely aware I now lacked the Omniverse’s second chances. There was no net here to save me, and I chide myself for never getting into rock climbing back on Earth like I wanted to. It was do or die.

The soft ground was a blessing once I saw it, and laid flat upon it to catch my breath once I made the last couple of yards. I took those small victories, because they were going to be harder to come soon enough.

 

[Aku]

Grass keeps waving to one direction by the night wind, cooling the savanna to make it bearable to travel across. While bored and silent, the mortal of darkness began to hum a tune. Crickets chirp throughout the nighttime of the day, filling the barren savanna with life.

AND I THINK TO MYSELF; THIS WORLD NEEDS MORE AKU

Aku sings along with his tune in a cheerful mood to lighten his mood on Karl Jak's ability to take away powers from a god. It helps to keep his temper down as he keeps singing in his scratchy voice. If professional music artists judge Aku's vocals, it would be a two out of ten. However, they would be sent to the pit of hate if judging poorly about the shogun of sorrow.

THERE ARE BILLIONS TO BE SLAVES, BUILDING MONUMENTS OF ME, AND ALL THEY WILL SAY PRAISE AKU

The moonlight shines down upon the master of music as he still hums the tune along with his lyrics.

PEACE AND KINDNESS, IT MAKES ME SICK, I RATHER WATCH PAINT DRY

It is awful to hear Aku sing in person and instead make the listeners want to go deaf. From all the noise commotion he was making, it scared critters away from the area. There are probably most viewers at home or in public places cringing because this guy thinks he is a good singer in his mind. After a couple of more minutes, the shogun of sorrow finishes his song.

I WILL BE VICTORIOUS

"WAHAHAHAHA!"

A laugh comes out from him about remaining as a champion by the end of this game of death. He wishes he came up with this idea from his past, by having the job to select unfortunate mortals that would have to fight and cause fatalities even against there loved ones for entertainment. Maybe Aku someday will host this kind of event, but it would probably be a bootleg version of Dante's Abyss.

His ego remains big even if he lost his immortality, Aku would have to prove himself across the crossroads that he was a force to be reckoned with in this new universe. Only the power of wickedness will help survival.

 

[Gildarts]

The shadow his eyelids cast were no match for the brazen light hovering overhead. A slow movement of the middle-age-mage’s head merely moving to the side caused a sudden churn in his stomach. Immediately he lurched upward and grasped his stomach in agony, all feeling in his hollowed gut was filled as his stomach ruptured. The sandy chafe in his throat was soothed by the sickening bite of bitter bile, which now a puddle in the dirt he’d been sprawled out on.

The mage echoed a weak groan, spitting a dash more out of what had been “left” in his mouth. Puzzles of memories swirled his mind but the clearest had been the woman, the seductive mercenary. He’d last seen her talking to the man who had wanted Gil’s head on a silver platter.

What had been the reason? Something personal. Something about before this realm. Something about-Gildarts stopped, his jaw clenched as though he’d been stricken. There was no moisture on his tongue to follow the gulp of shock he forced down. He had realized why the man had wanted him dead. The face of a crying little boy came to mind.

After no more than a moment, the face was gone. It had been conquered by the immediate demands of pain and the undeniable inlay of hedonism in his human body. Savagely fighting for control of Gildarts’ sanity was the acidic sensation of thirst. It was burning everything in his mind and refused anything other than what it craved. Unquenchable, his skin was as sensationless as sandpaper. The air sucked into his lungs was too thin for his body to grasp, his teeth were rotting pieces of rock, and his lips had been wet only by the taste of his own putrid bile.

Animalistically on all fours his fists clawed across the dimly lit earth, he couldn’t find the balance, nor the humanity within him to stand. Willpower grappled with his muscles, his torso and feet dragged beneath him. His eyes twisted in every direction, ferociously searching for any colors that indicated life.

It didn’t take him long to pinpoint the only vivid splash of color against the brick-colored backdrop. It set itself apart from the rest. A lumpy, bright green half-tree, half-bush with little colorful spiked orbs hanging from the branches.

Man’s thirst continued, amplified with each drag, stealing his energy and draining his fatigued limbs. He’d made a slither-patterned trail in the dirt behind him, but as he finally reached the fruit-bearing tree, his body grew limp.

So close.

Desperation infused by pain allowed Gildarts the final push, he couldn’t untangle his fingers from the earth below, so instead the disheveled man simply lifted his torso up and angled his teeth into the fruit. Harshly he drove his jaw down.

Immediately his tongue received the crisp, cool, satiating sensation of a quenching gush. Everything that his dry, weak body couldn’t have imagined was gifted in this small little package. Driven by this sweet pleasure he could do nothing more but chomp deeper. Each fruit had a bit of a liquid in its belly, he slurped it up and eagerly licked his lips. The sedative he had been given had made it so his muscles felt like floppy unused noodles and just so very dehydrated. The roaring scream that was his headache began to melt with each succulent bite and the moon's vivid glow subsided into its soft silver hue.

Finally, the mage had swallowed his mushy fill of the fruit. Subsiding were his instincts and carnivorous thirst, allowing for the flavor of the fruit to settle on his tongue. It was a subtle earthy mixture of grass and honey. He moved his tongue around the top of his mouth and took a breath. The headache he’d received from his tranquiliser dully gnawed the insides of his skull. Yet that was the least of his worries.

Gildarts only remembered the woman. There was no climate such as this in the lands he’d traversed to reach her. Lazily, the mage propped himself up against a large boulder and gazed up at the sky. His eyes slowly blinked, the moonlight glittered on him, slowly the cool rays felt heavier and heavier on his skin. The burning turned to a pressure lulling him into a sleepy calmness. A feeling the mage fought, he was in an unknown land, with no way of knowing how he’d gotten there nor if it was dangerous. His head nodded down but he’d quickly jerk his gaze up. Twisting his jaw stubbornly, he refused to... succumb to… This enchanting feeling.

Gildarts felt his body tingle, he pulled up on his hand of flesh and it felt like he was pulling strings that had no attachment. They wouldn’t move. His real fingers. Gildarts felt his head fall to the side and his eyes stared helplessly straight and watched as the final half-eaten fruit slowly rolled out of his hand.

Little did Gildarts know that this particular exotic fruit he had found in the middle of nowhere had “special” properties. These properties were composed of special psychoactive chemicals and hallucinogens were naturally-occurring and Gildarts had just eaten a bush full of fruit to soothe his thirst.

He didn’t know it and wouldn’t know it but he’d be tripping his way off this island.

 

[Fenix]

Suwako Moriya's body lay half-consumed within a large white bin. Half of her body was sticking out, unmoving, legs fully off the ground, while another part was fully pulled into the bin before her. With little movement, all that could be heard was a slurp, slurp, slurp as the little creature's body was pulled further and further into the large white container of faded wood and paint.. One could be forgiven for thinking that, perhaps, some monster - potentially a psychotic clown demon - had already given the little Frog an untimely end.

The reality was unveiled as a small hand pushed the top of the bin up, and The trash-goblin was revealed, Head face-first into a giant barrel of cotton candy as her tongue extended in and out, froggy slime pulling all the delicious candy into her mouth in what could only be considered a gluttonous display.

Eventually, Suwako lazily, slowly, edged herself away from the bin of candy, a slight bulge in her belly as she processed what was probably close to a lethal dose of Sugar running through her veins.

"...Yeah. that Crash is gonna suck."

The Frog girl rests for a moment, rubbing a tummy filled with empty calories for a few moments as she waited for the will to move. Looking over the rest of the park, the goddess idly thought about what else she might find in this god-forsaken excuse for an amusement park.

She was content with resting for a moment, observing the rides... which...

Funny. The rides were moving even now. Or at least, one of them was.

Suwako blinked a few times, before giving a smile.

---

Okuyasu was having a blast. The Roller coaster speeding along was quick and amazing, and he didn't have to pay a dime. the lon trips up a track, like the one he had to do now, were a little more of a problem, but hey, they gave him a bit of time to appreciate how far he was in the air.

"Hey! I should take Jousuke here one of these days! I'm sure he'd love it here!" Okuyasu yelled to the air.

"Oh? Well, that might be a problem." a feminine voice replied.

"Eh? Who's there!" Okuyasu yelled, looking around for this mystery Voice with za hando already materialized behind him.

With a simple 'tick tick tick', an old wooden rollercoaster located conveniently next to the more modern version Okuyasu sat upon ticked up into his vision, Suwako standing on top of the old model Ride with a Wicked smile on her face and her arms crossed in front of her. Gazing at him, the two's eyes met as both coasters hit the apex of their journeys.

"See, I plan on taking Sanae here... And, well, only one of us is surviving to take anyone to anything." Suwako replied with a smug grin, licking her lips. "So I'm going to teach you exactly why amusement parks are so dangerous."

 

[Orion]

A stiff breeze blew over Ellie’s skin as she stood in the swaying, thigh-high grass. She rubbed her hands over her forearms, trying to smooth the goosebumps from her skin, as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the island. The rhythmic crashing of waves from the edge of the cliff face fought with the wind to overwhelm Ellie’s hearing.

She stood, her mind… strangely blank, her eyes on the dark waters far in the distance. Normally her mind whirred, calculating and cogitating, driving her on to action. Yet now, in the blackness of midnight, it barely turned at all. She expected she would be scheming instantly, thinking of plans to outwit and outsurvive her opponents.

Instead her brain had quietened. Perhaps it was the reality of the situation – finally standing on an island, where she could quite possibly die – sinking in and paralysing her. Fear was not an emotion she was familiar with, yet she couldn’t say that was what had frozen her in place either. She shook her head, trying to lose the malaise. She had more important things to be focusing on.

For the time being, she needed to move somewhere with more cover. She had been dropped off in the middle of a field. The darkness likely cloaked her from any of her competitors, but she had to get going. She had to start working out her plans.

She frowned. Or did she? Maybe her overthinking was the cause of her mind drawing blanks. Instead of letting it tackle the situation naturally, she overloaded it with unknowns. Perhaps a laid back, carefree attitude to a death tournament was what she needed.

That thought made her smile. Do the opposite of what everyone expects. Find joy in the little things, the excitement.

She nodded to herself, deciding that even in this situation, where her life was on the line, she wouldn’t take it seriously. After all, who knew if she would make it out alive?

Ellie bent down to grab her duffel bag and lifted. The bag barely shifted, pulling hard on her shoulder. She shouted at surprise at the weight, then slapped a hand over her mouth, a little late to stop the sound. Why was the bag so heavy?

Crouching down, she unzipped the bag. Bottles of water, some MREs, a map she couldn’t read in this light… she shifted the contents around. Her fingers quested further down, past her sustenance, until she encountered something cold, smooth and hard.

Frowning, Ellie grasped and pulled out the mystery object. Even in the limited light of the night, she could make out a reflective surface, like glass, coating the front of the object. She turned the spherical object around, finding its base missing, the inside hollowed out. Wait. Was it…

Ellie took the object and slid it over her head. She could still see clearly through the glass. She burrowed back into the bag, finding more solid objects within, each a different shape. Pulling each piece out, she laid them out on the grass.

“Holy shit,” Ellie said, staring at what she removed from her bag, smiling. “This is going to be awesome!”

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#02 Okuyasu vs #14 Suwako
​

“This is the best place ever!” Okuyasu shouted as he hopped the barricade at one of those shooting booths and knocked over the stack of extremely dense milk jugs. If not for all the endorphins flushing his system, the man would have probably paused to reflect on just how heavy those fucking jugs were, but for now, he just shook his hand a couple of times and started to eye his prizes.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” he muttered as his eyes fell upon a large plush frog. He reached out to snatch the stuffed animal from the wall of the stall when he heard something crunch of the walkway outside the booth. Without moving his outstreatched hand, he slowly tilted his head to see a little blonde girl staring at him down the barrel of a…

“Step away from the frog,” she spoke sternly before yanking the trigger on the nailgun.

For his part, Okuyasu threw himself backwards and scrambled underneath the cloth barrier that served as the back of the game stall. Overhead, nails whizzed through the air, punching into the fabric as the man made it to the rear of the booth and quickly summoned the Hand. The stand manifested and lined up with Okuyasu as he rose to his feet to confront his attacker. Had he been anyone else, the man may have failed to spot the subtle movements in the soil around him, but with the stand out, his eyes picked up the subtle shifting of the top layer of dirt.

“Not this time.”

The stand user swiped in unison with his stand, carving a chunk of the ground out of existence and prompting the child to come spurting up out of the earth prematurely.

“That wasn’t advertised!” Suwako shouted as she rubbed her head. For his part, Okuyasu noted that the ‘little girl’ sounded a lot croakier as she moved to fire the nailgun once more.

Trying not to break his concentration, Okuyasu swung down his hand once again, but the girl was spry enough to hop up out of the crater as she pulled the trigger. The Hand slipped in front of its user and absorb a quick succession of nails, and while the feedback he experienced was anything but pleasant, Okuyasu didn’t succumb. His other hand opened up as the jetpack controls slipped down from his wrist. Mashing the joystick, he moved up as the Hand lurched forward.

Suwako, unable to sense the ethereal entity, kept her eyes up on the hovering man. Her gun’s projectiles trailed him as he went higher.

Just before he broke the range needed to maintain his direct link to the Hand, he swiped once more—this time exacting a physical toll on his attacker, who yelped as her physical form was momentarily disrupted.

Results

28 Contestants Remain​

Okuyasu has a series of wounds across his chest that will bleed for a while (Story Injury)
Suwako has been disrupted, which I imagine results in a variety of small injuries across her body, along with aches and pains (one Minor Injury all combined)

(yes, for the record, all the ‘Weapons’ count as ‘magic’ items for the purpose of dealing standard damage to special entities like the Hand or any other cosmic entity who might be normally resistant to a nail gun or blunt force trauma with something

edit after the fact -- I had a typo on my gear tracker and my early morning brain didn't double check, so I miffed on Suwako's gear, I apologize. I'm leaving this F2F as-is, but I amended the damage appropriately)

Okuyasu and Suwako are on a 12 hour cooldown where they cannot be in a F2F, unless they waive this right by PM'ing me.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#10 Malloki vs #16 Aku
​

Beep.

Aku heard it at a distance. Whatever FOOL approached him had the audacity to have their device at the peak volume? The AUDACITY.

“WHO STEPS UP TO DEATH?” Aku ‘spoke’ as he turned to face the direction of the FOOL’s pinging machinery.

BEEP.

“Just your old boy, Contestant Number 10, Malloki.” A voice calmly replied as a bloodied, scalded human stepped out from the darkness and had the gall to smile at Aku. The human-looking figure was dragging a broken leg behind him, and his body was covered in a variety of burns

INSUFFERABLE.

Without hesitation, Aku snapped his head forward and fired his eyebeams. The pair of beams crashed against Malloki’s bare chest and crushed the man against the ground before dissipating into the black of night.

“YOU ARE…” The dark entity paused at the strange, momentary smell of his own skin being singed beneath his nostrils. Shaking off what had to be lies brought about by the collar, Aku continued. “…IN YOUR RIGHTFUL PLACE!” his declaration had barely faded into glorious memory before he heard what sounded like the distinct sound of human laughter.

FOLLY.

Aku stalked over until his still-imposing shadow fell over the collapsed Malloki. Wreathed in moonlight, the dark entity finally cracked his own smile as the heat started to build up in the back of his throat.

“Y’know,” Malloki quipped as he laboriously pulled himself up into a seated position. “I’m starting to think that my odds of winning aren’t as great as they once were.” The man tapped himself on the side of the head and seemed to stare off at something in the pitch-black distance. “Oh well, the point is that we all had fun, isn’t it?”

With that, Malloki grabbed his own broken leg and snapped the limb backwards until he managed to tear away the flesh and skin as well.

For a brief moment even the dark and timeless evil that was Aku found himself speechless… and then the collared demon felt something so utterly vile and offensive that it would haunt the rest of his morning hours.

Pain. Genuine pain that radiated in fresh, nauseating waves from the point of injury.

The demon’s left leg gave out as the physical form that had been imposed upon him by the Syntech people literally fractured. As Aku toppled to the wayside, he let out a fiery roar that even the barely-sane Malloki had to awe at.

“Then again,” Malloki said with a twitch as he looked down at his twitch stump. “You should always bring an extra life with you.” The human voodoo doll slammed his severed limb back where it belonged, and in a fleeting moment of perfect clarity amid the sea of chaos in his brain, he grounded his thoughts long enough to caused the collar on his neck to beep—a much nicer beep than the GPS, if he had to pick a side.

The beeping stopped just as the scar tissue had formed around the newly hewn limb, and with a giggle, Malloki lurched to a vertical position. “Well, this has certainly been pleasant, right?”

Aku, seething in rage as he sat on his haunches and glared at his wounded limb, replied with a second torrent of flames that sent the now burning Malloki retreating back into the darkness.

Results

28 Contestants Remain​

Aku has a fractured leg (Minor Injury) and a fractured ego (Story Injury)
Malloki’s Major Injury (Broken Leg) is healed to a Story Injury
Malloki’s previous burns have been further aggravated, upgrading them from a Minor to a Major Injury. He now has second- and third-degree burns across his chest and face.

Malloki used one application of Focus to Heal/a unique variation of his Living Voodoo Ability

Aku and Malloki are on a 12 hour cooldown where they cannot be in a F2F, unless they waive this right by PM'ing me.