Day 1

[Kayleigh Eudora]

Kayleigh's long legs carried her through the rough terrain. The other participants weren't the only obstacle, merely surviving was an actual concern. The terrain was starting to take its toll on her ankles. She figured it's best not to risk a sprain before encountering any enemies. Kayleigh kept her eyes open for a decent spot to set up camp for the night. It wasn't long before a nice secluded spot presented itself.

Exhaling a sigh of relief when she finally sat down. Her feet immediately started to feel better, even more so when she took off her boots. Massaging them back to healthy condition.

Nightlife critters set a calming atmosphere, chirping, howling in the distance and some kind of humming she couldn't quite place…

"Hmmmm".... There it was again. Doubts about the origin of the humming were born within her mind. Letting go of her foot she got up and stretched, allowing her to glance around without arousing suspicion. "Hmmhm"....There, from those bushes, Kayleigh was sure of it.

In one ember fluent motion Kayleigh swirled towards the source, sending her fiery fist forward aimless. "Oh fucking hell!" Shouted the voice veiled in darkness. The fist got planted in the ground, a shadow was seen dodging to the left. Eudora pulled her fist out and the light of the flames revealed the culprit.. "You?!" A confused maiden asked. Standing in front of her, trousers on his knees was none other than the infamous Victor Wolfe.

"Careful with that thing unless you plan to use it for more..explicit purposes." Victor's eyebrows wiggled seductively. Kayleigh recognised the jester from the barracks, Cho's companion who made her an offer. Knowing fully well where she was, Kayleigh kept her guard up.

"What deformaty of the mind ails you, miscreant?! Does desire to embrace death hold such strong grasp?"

Wolfe took his time to buckle his belt after pulling up his pants, "Oh, don't get so worked up. It's been a few hours you know, i'm doing the best i can." Carefree words painted Victor as a harmless. A dangerous assumption knowing he managed to sneak up to her without being detected. "Do you happen to run into Cho? Would love to see how the boy is holding up."

Eudora shook her head, "The boy's location is unknown to me. Why have you hold your attack?"

"Not sure" An aloof shrug assisted the word's meaning, "It's not my first Karl jak rodeo, having an ally does help survivability out here. I mean, have you seen some of those weirdo's? I'd much rather stick with someone….easier on the eyes."

A cold shiver shot down the woman spine. Never before did she meet a person like this. Face of a man, tongue of a snake and paws of a kitten, a dangerous individual indeed. On top of all that it was a grade A pervert.

"You suggest we forge an alliance?"

Victor nodded as he sat down at Kayleigh's campsite, "Indeed i do. Afterall i did offer you to be part of something bigger, this will give me a good idea what you're capable of."

The offer was tempting, even if it came from someone like him. "Very well, i accept your offer. But heed words; touch or cross me and suffer concequences. I hold no interest in-.... What in the god's name are you doing?"

Victor was laying in his 'french girl' pose, waiste covered with some sort of cloth, "You're pretty when you are angry like that, with your flaming fist."

Kayleigh's face turned red, either anger or shame took over. Douseing her flames, left them in the dark. The sounds of nights once again took over the, the chirping of crockets, howling of wildlife and...whatever Victor was doing.

 

[Fenix]

Suwako gave a very un-froglike growl. The feeling of being temporarily disrupted - the idea that a very small part of her essence had been erased - crushed her spirit and touched her essence in a way she wasn't used to. after the pain coming from the strike, she was pretty sure she didn't want to.

Fine! If this jackass wanted to play with Magic...

Suwako Brought a hand forward and Brought up a series of ornate Paper cranes formed of Rocks, the little creatures soaring from behind her to strike the exposed teenager. she didn't have much range to her weakened powers, but Okuyasu wasn't that far off. Even so, she saw that invisible force come back to life, and suwako could only see the barest bits of energy to tell her what her opponent was doing.

"...Back in my day, I recall a few humans using something... funny, like this. Invisible... an entity, sometimes. Many used it to exorcise youkai. What are the kids calling it nowadays?"

Okuyasu gave her a grin. "What? you don't know about stands? Well, tough! I'm not telling you anything about 'em!"

"So they're called stands now?"

"..."

Okuyasu stamped his foot in frustration. "damn it!"

Suwako chuckled. "Well, looks like you did a fine job of it. you remind me of-"

Suwako's eyes widened, and she suddenly remembered that she, in fact, did have a kid this age.

Sanae used to bring people around the shrine, when she was a little younger and they were in the real japan, and Some of them wore a similar - if less flashy - outfit.

"God... damnit, Sanae!" Suwako grumbled. She probably wasn't watching, and on the low chance she'd somehow have met this dude, she probably wouldn't remember him. And even if she was, she'd have no right getting mad at Suwako for defending herself when her life was on the line. She couldn't root for some scar-faced idiot over her own goddess. If anything, it'd d be best if she didn't actually wait and got rid of him now, in that case. Rip that band-aid now and teach her descendant a life lesson.

...Damnit.

"...Hey, how 'bout we leave it at that, kiddo? 'fore I drop a daruma on your head?" Suwako asked, forming an adorable frog out of the earth around them as she had it sit idly in her hand.

"Give me one good reason not to drop you with Za hando!" Okuyasu yelled.

"I know where the popcorn is hidden."

"That's one damn good reason!"

And with one quick motion, the frog disintegrated into the earth below, and Za hando retreated back into it's users body.

"Suwako Moriya. Pleased to meet you."

"Nijimura Okuyasu!"

Suwako sighed, dusting off her stockings. All because she couldn't hurt someone who reminded her of her great-great-great-grandchild. what a rotten kid.

She gave a small smile, as she looked at the guy. "Well, that's the first proper name I've heard since I've got here, Nijimura Okuyasu."

"Heh heh heh! I think that's the first compliment to my name I've gotten since..."

Okuyasu's face turned from an idealistic smile, to a neutral expression, to a grumpy frown as he ticked the time down.

Suwako just took the chance to snicker in response.

 

[Cho]

Cho grimaced and rubbed his temple. He’d spent the better part of a couple of hours, at least, nestled between the rocks, straining his eyes against the darkness to try and spot anything untoward. The consistent thrum of his heartbeat in his ears had subsided, considerably, though replaced by a vague throbbing behind his eyes.

“Shit. Shit, okay.” Cho slapped his knees and went to push himself up, steeling himself against the horrors that may lie in the dark, “If I can find Victor or that High Priest.. even Kayleigh, I might be able to make it through this shitty night.”

He finally took a step, crossing the threshold of his little bolthole and stepped out into the deep dark of the night, tentatively. Another step after that and almost in an instant, his entire being screamed at him to run; to just break into a full run and get to the next hiding spot. Thankfully, his better judgement remained intact and he continued to walk at a tentative pace. The terrain shifted as he descended the sloped, sandy path, eventually coming across a vast and humid forest. The trees loomed far overhead as he approached and took up position on the treeline, one hand rested on the bark of an outlier. He peered into the jungle, as best he could, the cover of night only serving to hinder his sight. Cho could tell, though, that this jungle was very much inhabited and very much alive. A cacophony of nocturnal critters called out into the jet black night, perhaps calling to others of their kind or warding off any would be predators. The occasional rustle of leaves up above begged for the Earthbenders attention, not that he would indulge whatever creature was stalking over him. Not without some effort, Cho swallowed, his mouth gone dry.

A few moments of hesitation passed as the youth weighed up his options. If he went through the jungle, he had some cover. But if there was already someone in there, so would they, not to mention the untold variety of beasties that lay in wait for a particularly unfortunate and ill advised explorer to pass through. Traversing a jungle this late at night with no idea what waited for him in there, the very thought churned his stomach; a feeling he was growing increasingly fond of, as that usually meant whatever he was about to do was a bad idea. He dug his nails into the bark of the tree and huffed.

“No cover it is.” He muttered to himself lowly as he set off, keeping in line with the treeline, at least they’d obscure his profile somewhat.

He trudged the treeline for what seemed like hours; it felt like an eternity in the deep, dark night. Eventually he came upon the sound of running water, a river up ahead. Cho froze, again, a thought crossed his mind which wracked him with nervous energy yet again. Predators tend to stalk watering holes, their prey usually drops their guard when they stop to drink… or was that just animals?

“Shit.. fuck.. Okay..” Cho grumbled to himself and broke into a full sprint. As he went, he raised both fists into the air. A chunk of rock, a few feet in diameter, emerged from the shore of the river. Cho jumped atop and thrust his fists forwards. The rock lurched in the same direction along the surface of the water. Below, the rock seemed to move in a wave, rising up to replace the rock behind. It propelled the initial slab of rock and kept the Earthbender aloft, allowing him to traverse the river with relative ease.

As he reached the other side, he dove from the rock and burst away for the first sign of cover. He dove behind a tree that sat a few hundred feet away from the shore and pressed his back up against the bark. His tentative gaze passed around the area, barely taking in the scenery as he scanned for potential threats. He exhaled, loudly and quickly, apparently unaware he’d actually been holding his breath the entire way. Cho struggled against his breathing, fighting to get it back under control. He stopped, again, taken in awe by the sight that thrust itself on him.

A vast city sprawled out in front of him, dark and silent. “Might.. Be some cover in there.. Or someone else. Shit. Fucking stop it. Man up.” He growled to himself, bracing himself as he set out for the city.

 

[Karl Jak]

Day 1
(Morning Phase: 0600 to 1200)​

“Rise and shine, everyone down there! It’s your host, Karl Jak, and I’m here to tell you that everyone has survived to see the first dawn. Yay, how… positive.”

The executive snickered softly as he peered at a map of the island.

“The following danger zones will activate at high noon, so if you want to stay alive, you best avoid staying in these squares:

F10
J3
F3
D4
A8
G6
D8.”

Stepping away from the comm station, Karl turned his attention to the crew from the labs. “Is it ready to go? I think the audience is ready for a little real action.”

“Oh, it’s ready to go, Sir. Like you said, we were able to modify its biochemistry to suit your new parameters.”

Karl grinned like a child in a candy store (or a Karl in a Cabana Boy store) as he plopped back down onto his command chair and mashed the button. “At high noon, we’ll be dropping a package onto the island… right into the heart of File City at square, uh, F6. Don’t worry, your collars are programmed to offer you a two-way trip to the spot if you’re interested in trying to claim the Easter Egg. Trust me, this is one easter egg you’ll want to retain for the long haul.”

Out-of-Karl Bulletin (READ OR DIEEE)[/b]

• I will say this (I hope) in Discord as well. If you are moving with a partner, one person can send me PMs for both people – I recommend making a new PM ‘Conversation’ for this titled like ‘Proto Man and Mickey Mouse Movement’, that way these movements can be seen and verified by all parties (and naturally, let me know privately if you want to go against your partner’s wishes).
• Anyone who is solo – you can continue to just reply to our current PM Conversation – I do really like this feature of xenforo, because it helps me easily track movements on my end
• Please review the above danger zones and avoid being in them when the next cycle starts, Next cycle begins tomorrow July 16th at 1000 AM Chicago Time.
• Tomorrow, Thursday (at the start of the next phase), we are having our first Easter Egg special event.
  • You enter this event by messaging me (PMs for this). Even if you are in a partnership, I need both people to PM me (again, you can use your movement Conversation for this).
  • Once you send that PM, you cannot back out, even if you later find out your most hated and feared foe is there.
  • You can enter an Easter Egg alongside your active partner, but if an IC friend joins from another square, you are still competing against them.
  • Likewise, if people go out of their way to mass up prior to the event, be aware that the Group Handicap will apply (yes, even if you already have a Joke weapon or no weapon – big groups are lame ). Let me know if you need to know more about this.

 

[Aku]

Aku screams from this new pain he felt, surging into his leg. He hunches over while falling upon the grass-filled ground, grabbing his injured leg immediately that has fractured.

The stench that belonged to Malloki was putrid to smell. Humans have had terrible smells before, but this mortal reeks with decay.

Disgust spells out across Aku's face with a big frown and half-opened eyes.

From this moment forward for the rest of the game, the rotting mortal, Malloki will be put upon Aku's list of people to release his wrath upon their pathetic lives.

In Aku's mind, no one shall lay a single finger to hurt his perfectness. If so, they will experience the pit of hate and eons of torture.

What disappointing outcome, Aku did not kill his first blood for the game and everyone to see at home.

The fractured leg pulsates with pain, a soreness he has never felt before in his entire immortal life. As his injury throbs, so does his ego that builds the great name of Aku. That self-esteem is starting to dwindle with frustration that rises inside him. Now, the shogun of sorrow must limp around and has no choice, similarly to a useless mortal.

If he were on the spectator side, watching these foolish beings kill each other for entertainment would be humorous. Nothing is comical now having to deal with this injury he cannot control. It's going to be hard getting used to this way of life he deems unworthy. Aku limps forth, away from his encounter, because his challenger disappeared within dawn's semi-darkness that soon will be the sun-filled morning.

Soon as Aku exits the area, that horrible smell no longer fills his nostrils. A breath of fresh air cleans his nose successfully. The woodlands are within his view that ended the dry and drought-made savanna. He can tell the location he now stood is a green valley that connects to a mountain that's geographically risen above the island.

The sight of the rocky peak fills with high and mightiness, two terms that Aku desires to have over this island. The injured leg continues to charge him up with pain that drags down his muscular appearance to his disadvantage.

After traveling a while by limping his body across the forest, Aku needed a break to rest his leg. He found an oak tree to press his back against and slid down to sit upon the grassy surface. To ease the pain, Aku positioned his injured leg on top of the tree's big root that protruded. Curious about healing his leg, the mortal of darkness begins to search inside his duffel bag for something to help.

Nothing. Only food, water, and that unidentified capsule remain in the bag.

Rage boils underneath Aku's skin about the situation he despises to be apart.

Next time he comes across anyone, he will make sure that their life will end even if they touch him. No other mortal shall remain on the list of names that killed him. Only one name remains on that list from his past life. A name that anyone says shall receive punishment immediately. Anytime someone says his name, Aku directly experiences horror filling his mind.

Samurai Jack.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#01 Arthur Morgan & #04 Kopaka vs #09 Mugen vs #24 Kayleigh Eudora & #19 Victor Wolfe
​

Mugen hurt. The samurai with the raven hair lurched up the incline with his eyes set on the high mountain cliffs. If he could get a higher perspective, it was possible that he could get the drop on some of the other contestants. With the wounds still stinging, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long without acquiring some other means of defending himself. The advent of the dawn would only make his position all the more useful in the long run.

Still achy, Mugen moved tenderly as he scaled the incline, which was just steep enough to make require him to nearly walk on all fours to overcome the loose terrain. Pausing at the tope of a small plateau that looked back at the twenty foot incline he’d just ascended, the ronin glanced to the East. The sun wasn’t visible yet, but the first harbingers of its arrival were visible on the horizon.

Unfortunately for Mugen, he wasn’t the only one who had thought it wise to pursue the high ground in this event.

“I’m not a hapless romantic, but who doesn’t enjoy themselves a sunrise.” The dark-haired fighter turned to see a lithe figure learning against a more vertical cliff face. The shadow-wreathed speaker stepped out to reveal a smug, blonde-haired human dressed in black clothing that sported gold trim. “It’s nice how the streaks of red spread like arterial spray across the early morning sky.”

“Sure,” Mugen muttered. “I’m Mugen.”

“Victor. Victor Wolfe. What brings you around to these parts?” Victor Wolfe asked as he flashed a predatory smile at the winded ronin.

“Would you believe me if I told you that it was a cowboy with an energy gun?” Mugen replied.

Victor sneered. “Would you believe me if I told you that there was a dragon-mouthed woman standing just over there?”

Mugen frowned as he turned to see Kayleigh stepping out from the shadows. The woman seemed nearly cute… that is, until she held up her fists and they literally burst into flames. “There’s always something else, isn’t there?”

With that, the ronin opted to throw himself down the incline rather than try and scramble up the ledge and avoid the bursts of fire that lashed at the earth. As Mugen rolled back down the jagged incline, a mildly amused Victor thrust a finger at the rapidly accelerating mass of limbs and uprooted rocks. “Don’t let him slip away!”

As the pair pursued their intended target, Mugen came to a painful and crashing halt on a relatively flat surface.

Now everything hurt the young man.

But as Mugen tried to simultaneously catch his breath and refocus his blurred vision, a distinct drawl pierced through the din of his crash down the hill.

“Been a long time since I saw a human tumbleweed.”

Without being able to see clearly, Mugen groaned. “Is it too late to apologize about earlier?”

A smile cracked Arthur’s visage. “Kid, it’s always too late to apologize when yer staring down the barrel of a gun.”

“You might want to do it quick, because I’m being tailed by some creep and his dragon lady.”

The cowboy tilted his head, and it was then that he noticed debris was still sliding down the side of the incline. Glancing up, he saw a fiery Kayleigh descending like the vanguard of some errant volcano. The woman’s body spat gouts of flame as the ground beneath her turned to magma. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Fire screamed through the night air as Arthur lifted the BFG and pulled the trigger.

Plasma met fire.

Plasma won.

Kayleigh, despite being laser-focused on burning the pair of men to the ground, managed to realize her shortcoming with enough time to topple backwards onto the incline. Her head smacked the ground as the fires around her seemingly clicked out of existence, and moments later, the superheated chunk of plasma crashed into the angled earth just inches above her head.

Arthur lowered the BFG, but before he could get another shot off, something crashed into him. A set of lithe, sneaky fingers wrenched at the heavy weapon as another crashed into his Adam’s apple. Despite having the element of surprise, Victor couldn’t stagger the cowboy, who gagged horribly but maintained his grip on the weapon.

The gaze of the assassin-turned-Emperor met that of Mugen, who had made it to his feet. “Help me to disarm him! Quick!”

Souring from the burns on his chest, the ronin moved to join the assassin in trying to liberate the weapon from his former attacker.

“Y’know,” Arthur growled through clenched teeth as he slammed his forehead into Victor’s brow. “This was a terrible choice for all of y’all.” The BFG boomed as a finger smashed into the trigger and discharged a burst between Mugen and Victor’s heads. Just as it seemed Arthur may have been able to shrug off his scrawny assailants, Kayleigh leapt onto his back and hooked one of her arm’s around the man’s neck.

“Take the gun,” she growled as her body once more began to glow with the heat of her inner flames.

Victor, eyes widening as the cowboy’s grip faltered, was just seconds away from his prize when the hailstorm started.

Chunks of malformed ice pieces whistled through the morning air, scraping exposed flesh and tearing at the trio’s clothes. For their part, the threesome tried to ignore the sudden change in weather, but when a hardened shard of ice slit open Victor’s right cheek, the assassin had no choice but to peel away as additional blades of frozen water came glittering at his neck.

“Retreat,” he rasped as he turned and headed north. They had surveyed this entire section of the mountain, so the man was certain his associate and he could evade any country bumpkin. Yet, Victor couldn’t help but pay one last fleeting glance over his back, and what he saw was a humanoid-looking machine at the epicenter of a swirling mass of snow and ice.

Realizing that Victor and his pal were on the run, Mugen quickly made his exit as well.

With his attackers gone, Arthur at first expected the ice to turn its focus to him, but the storm faded once the three had fled, leaving the cowboy standing alone.

“You dropped this,” a mechanical voice spoke as the man turned to see the machine from the preshow extending the BFG to him.

Arthur retrieved the weapon and tilted his head. “Why?”

“Repaying a debt,” the robot intoned.

Results

28 Contestants Remain​

Arthur Morgan will have a sore throat (Story Injury)
Victor has a cut on his cheek (Story Injury)
Kayleigh has some dizziness – probably a mild concussion that should go away (Story Injury)
Mugen has a landslide’s worth of abrasions and cuts on his body (Minor Injury)

Arthur Morgan used one application of Focus
Victor used one application of Focus
Kayleigh used one application of Focus
Mugen used one application of Focus

Mugen, Kayleigh, Arthur, Kopaka, and Victor are on a 12 hour cooldown where they cannot be in a F2F, unless they waive this right by PM'ing me.

 

[The Future Warrior]

After that unfortunate run-in with the brash vagrant, a quick look through of what Ashe had gathered of the public records on the other contestants let her determine it was the one known as Pecan. He was very much what one might call a wild card, if his professed interest in being here solely with the desire to 'fuck people up' was genuine. He had certainly acted in a completely ridiculous manner, and been lucky enough to escape a two-on-one encounter without serious injury, after managing to cause surprising injury thanks to his surprise attack.

The very kind of surprise attack she had previously been on guard against. Accursed lapses in total observation.

"So if you don't mind me asking," her current partner spoke up after some time. "Where's this destination you had in mind?"

Ashe didn't respond immediately, continuing her steady march forward. The only noise between was the sound of wind wheezing through and over the craggy walls of the ravine they trudged through. It would have almost been eerie, were it not for the steadily brightening light of encroaching sunrise.

"There should be a path up ahead," she finally said. "Leading out of these cliffs. The map indicates it will lead to a place where there should be some approximation of shelter, and a place to possibly hide from threats for a time."

"Was your plan really to just find somewhere to hole up and hide?" the military man asked incredulously, while carefully fishing his copy of the island map out and unfolding it to scan over their position. "Not exactly what I'd have pegged you for, given..." He trailed off, stealing a glance up at her before returning to the map.

"Not to hide." Her tone never changed, nor did she acknowledge whatever had been implied by the statement. "It is an easily identifiable landmark. A place of possible former habitation. And a location where there may be some manner of supplies." She slowly swiveled her head around to look down at Mustang herself. "And with that in mind, it seems likely enough that it will attract the attention of at least one other contestant in the vicinity."

That line of thought seemed to take a minute to come together in his head, but the slowly dawning smirk on his features eventually laid it bare he understood the idea. "So you just wanted to get there first, and get ready..." He trailed off again, with a knowing nod. "This the place?" He tapped a point on the map, holding it up for the larger woman to see. A quick glance down at it and she nodded confirmation. "Good thing it'll be sunup soon. Wouldn't wanna hang around there in the dark."

"Are you afraid of the dark, Major?" the robot murmured, slowly turning her head back to face forward again. They had reached the edge of the canyon now, the cliffs dropping sharply away below and leaving only a scattering of pillars ahead. Far overhead, some alarmingly flimsy bridges swayed in the higher elevation's sea breezes.

"Not so much the dark," Mustang said dismissively, folding his map up and bagging it up again. "Just what might be lurking in it." He stuck his hands in his pockets, pausing for only a moment to admire the sunrise, and the oddity of the landscape. "West from here, then. That about right, miss...?"

"West from here," she confirmed. And would immediately start to head that way. "My designation is Ashe-0."

"Mind if I ask another question, while it's still a fresh topic?" the soldier briskly hopped to it to keep pace with his larger companion.

"Were I to say that I did mind, would you not still proceed to ask it?" the amazonian golem said with an even more flat edge to her tone than normal.

That earned a brief chuckle. "Maybe. Maybe not." He strode along in silence for a while, devoting the time to keeping careful watch for any more 'surprises' from above or elsewhere, before speaking up again. "Major, you said. Just a lucky guess, or are you just remarkable well-informed?"

"Your contestant file for this event," was Ashe's immediate response. "It is publicly available information. I took the liberty of reading as much as time allowed for during our time in the barracks." She lapsed into silence for a moment. "Outside of that, however. You carry yourself like a soldier. And you are still in uniform."

"Ah. The rank insignia, then," he mused, shaking his head. "Very observant of you."

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

“Dear Audience,” he began a monologue as usual. This time, it was not his diary addressed, but the people at home. The man had come to a complete stop in the field of swaying grass, eyes peering off into the sunset.

“I know the saying, it is always the darkest before dawn… Well, dawn is here and so many still lurk in the dark corners of this island.” His voice was unusually calm compared to the insanity of his earlier screaming. His eyes were bloodshot, wrinkled burns of blackened flesh tainted most of his face and peeled part of his lips away from his teeth while the other portion nearly fused to them.

“But I’m still it. I’ll find as many people as I can, don’t you worry my viewers. With Carniverous Jackson as my witness, I will play his game to the fullest.” A smile pulled at his deformed lips and for a moment the pain had him take a sharp inhale of delight.

When he exhaled, it was that same calming tone in a soothing sigh. The disjointed voice-to-injury was normal for Malloki amidst his bliss, but it was a gruesome display of calamity. “You see, he doesn’t know that he’s simply a host to my favorite game. Like a poker buddy running a Saturday night get together bringing in me, a professional gambler. I may not always win. Hell, I’ve sunk my life savings into this, but… even when I lose, I win. And I’ll play this game again. And again… and again...”

There was a long pause to let all that bravado sink in. “I’m not playing to please fans, but maybe that’s why a few of you out there like me. I just love the game. Love what I do. Love you guys too. So for now, thanks for all the support out there. That’s all I have to say for the moment.”

And with a turn of his gaze to where he imagined an invisible camera might be, he smiled a smile that peeled the flesh fused to his teeth away. “Now back to your normal programming.”

With that said, and a wiggle of his healed ankle, the madman began his usual madman dash. The poor sleep and many injuries made the run increasingly difficult on his body, but what did he care? The pulling of taut flesh burned and flaking scabs did little but inspire a happy giggle as he took deep breaths of the crisp morning air.

“Knick knack pattywack, give a dog a BOMB! This old man ain’t coming home!”

The song was cheered at the top of his lungs. “Knick knack PATTYWACK GIVE A DOG A BONE!”

He raced against the clock towards the next blip on his map. None of them had moved since its last triggering, so here was to hoping some poor dope stayed in place to hide out the coming storm.

“THIS OLD MAN AIN’T COMING HOME!”

 

[Gilgamesh]

‘King of Pals’. How in character for the mouse. Gilgamesh scowled but decided against pressing the issue. Between the two rivals, this was as good as it was going to get. With a huff, Gilgamesh turned his back towards the mouse and began to descend the rocky path. Before Mickey could take a step, Gilgamesh turned his head. “Are you coming, rodent?” Gilgamesh hissed. Without a response, he turned his head back and jumped down from the ledge.

Mickey perked up and started to chase after Gilgamesh, his tiny feet softly crunching the gravel beneath him. “Hey, pal. I don’t appreciate you calling me that,” Mickey scolded.

Gilgamesh turned his head, looking down at Mickey. The mouse’s eyebrows were furrowed and he was pouting. The King of Heroes stifled a chuckle. Even after all of the hardships Mickey had put him through, he had to admit that the Mouse was pretty damn cute when he was angry. After taking a moment, he regained his composure and waved his hand dismissively.

“So be it,” Gilgamesh decreed. “I suppose ‘rat’ will fit you just as well,” he accentuated the slur, trying to pick at Mickey’s nerves.

Mickey in response shrugged. “That’s fine. As long as you don’t mind being called pal,” he teased back. Gilgamesh scowled in response, it seemed that he was much better at this game of cat and mouse. “If you have to call me something, call me Mouse,” Mickey casually replied before getting lost in thought. “Never call me Mr. Mouse though. Mr. Mouse was my father,” he shuddered.

“So be it...mouse,” the words left Gilgamesh’s mouth reluctantly. ‘Mouse’ wasn’t harsh enough for his taste. He preferred words that cut to the chase or words that could wound. ‘Mouse’ was just too nice.

“Sounds good, Gil,” Mickey replied in a sing-song tune. The King of Heroes did not hate this. It was leagues better than ‘pal’. Gilgamesh simply nodded in response and they continued their path in silence, keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

---

Gilgamesh supposed that the two had walked for quite some time, as the sun had begun to peek over the canopy of the forest. The sky had turned a beautiful purple. If this wasn’t the abyss, Gilgamesh might have let the moment sink in. He turned his head to check on Mickey, but the small mouse had disappeared. Slightly panicked, Gilgamesh placed his hand on the freeze-ray for comfort.

“Mickey?” Gilgamesh called out, pulling up the gun from his hip.

“What the heck are you doing, Gil?” he heard Mickey squeak. He turned his head to see his compatriot perched on a small patch of grass, digging through his survival bag.

“I could ask you the same thing, mouse,” Gilgamesh sassed back, placing one of his hands on his hip.

Mickey stuck out his tongue as he was concentrating on searching the bag. His face lit up as he grabbed a hold of an item and pulled it out. He had retrieved one of the brown, plastic MREs. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, didn’t you know? You gotta eat, if you want to grow up to be a big boy,” Mickey enthusiastically cheered as he ripped open the plastic packet. “Ooh, spaghetti!” Mickey exclaimed as he brought out a fork and began to dig in.

Gilgamesh shifted uncomfortably and scanned the woods for any potential threat.

“What’s wrong? Not gonna eat, Gilly willy?” Mickey chimed in with a smile.

“I shall eat after you, I do not wish to be ambushed. I had the displeasure of meeting some of the unsavory mongrels before the Abyss began,” Gilgamesh said with an irritated tone. His compatriot was already beginning to grate on his nerves.

“You know the longer you wait to eat,” Mickey paused to slurp another noodle down. Gilgamesh turned to face the mouse, the marinara sauce comically covering his lips. “The more likely we’re gonna be ambushed,” he quickly spoke before drinking a carton labeled ‘choccy milk’. Where did he even get one of those? That was beside the point; however, the mouse was right. The King of Heroes plopped down on the ground, across from Mickey mouse, and began to search his bag. He felt a plastic bag and ripped it from its place.

‘MRE Meal 34. Pepperoni Pizza’. Reluctantly, Gilgamesh tore off the seal and opened the bag. It smelled of dough and chemicals. He took out the pizza with the tip of his fingers as if he were picking up a dirty sock. Mickey nodded his head enthusiastically to encourage Gil to take a bite. Gilgamesh sighed before bringing the ‘meal’ up to his lips and taking a bite. The dough was tough and chewy and it tasted extremely bland. It crumbled into chalky bits in his mouth.

“MREs are pretty tasty this year, am I right, Gilly?” Mickey said with his spaghetti sauce mustache. Gilgamesh wanted to throw up.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Dawn came in a slow trickle, blooming in vibrant strokes of orange and purple across the mountain’s jagged surface.

It was with great care that Arthur finally picked his way all the way down the craggy mountainside, having scaled around it in a haphazard climb to reach the other side. Hands stinging from numerous small scrapes and his nose and cheeks burning from the bitingly cold winds, the man found himself sliding eagerly down the rock, delighting in the way his boots struck the ground with a solid thunk.

That is, the ground was solid, until he took another step and his boots became entrenched in a puddle of muck.

As the golden light of day spilled over the horizon like a dollop of melted butter, Arthur scrutinized the land around him— namely, the damp, humid, and swampy area he had wandered into like a fool. A cloud of buzzing insects sang in his ears, the croaking of frogs echoing across a sunken-in plain composed primarily of dead plant matter and stagnant water.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Arthur sighed aloud. Alright. He could either continue on in this direction, slogging through at least a couple miles of thick mud, or he could turn right back around and make the slow, arduous trek back up the mountain. Neither prospect seemed particularly enticing, but after gazing around at all the damned swamp had to offer, the mountain was looking better and better by the second.

It was as he was turning around, fully intending to depart that Arthur caught sight of something in the distance. Whatever it was, it shimmered something fierce in the morning light, shining like a beacon out in the midst of the swamp.

The former outlaw raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, squinting at it. What he saw brought a slight grin to his face.

A white figure, clad all in mud-splattered armor, struggling toward him through the massive deposit of silt and swampwater…

Arthur started as a cascade of pebbles hailed down on his head, coming from further up the mountainside. Thinking quickly, he ducked back into the mountain’s shadow. A lucky thing, too: he was just in time to witness Mugen slam into the ground like a goose shot plum out of the sky.

And then, well, things happened. Right as he’d started to worry that his trusty weapon would be taken from him, though, his knight in shining armor arrived in a gust of icy wind, blasting the rest of ‘em away.

“Well, thanks, partner,” said Arthur, examining his big ol’ gun for damage. A few scuff marks, but mostly all-right. He glanced up at Kopaka from under the brim of his hat. “You got any weapons on you? I have a powerful feelin’ that this won’t be the only excitin’ thing happening today.”

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#10 Malloki vs #18 Jak Mar
​

“Hey, Bossman, that dude is at it again.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Karl Jak muttered as he wheeled his chair over to the monitor with the number ten etched above its screen.

***​

Jak Mar had passed the dark hours of the night in relative ease. The item in his bag didn’t have the same nostalgia, but it would serve the .

“Hey there, Buckeroo,” the voice was vaguely humanoid but slurred to the point where Jak was certain he hadn’t understood all the words. Without turning around, the antihero reached into his survival bag and grasped his weapon by the handle.

“Friend or Foe?” Jak whispered without turning around.

“I think that’s the wrong television program, Ears.”

Jak bristled at the insult. “This isn’t my first—”

“Rodeo?” Malloki whispered into the other man’s long ear. “You want to find a horsey and put on a show for the crowds at home? NEEIIGHH!”

An elbow smashed into the voodoo man’s face, and even though Jak felt an immediate toothache, he followed through with the motion by twisting and shoving away Malloki. With his opponent knocked off balance, Jak pulled the gun out of his duffel bag. It wasn’t the blasters that he was accustomed to, but the eco warrior knew how to handle a sidearm when he found one.

The pepperbox pistol went off with a bang and nearly jerked itself out of its owner’s hand.

Malloki gurgled as the bullet burst out through his back, but he didn’t relent. Jak was already grimacing at wounds that had sprung up on his abdomen for seemingly no reason, and that left the long-eared gunslinger undefended. The human voodoo doll crashed into Jak and brought his boot down hard on his opponent’s foot.

“Ratings gold!” Malloki screamed through the bloody mess that was his mouth. “They’re gonna love this shit,” with that, the human voodoo doll grabbed Jak by the neck and proceeded to bit into the alien man’s oversized ear.

“Get. Off!” Jak’s trigger finger had been jammed in the scuffle, but his other arm was free enough to bring a clubbing blow against Malloki’s skull.

With a bloody chunk of Jak’s ear still between his teeth, the human voodoo doll stumbled backward and nearly lost his balance. The eco warrior, his normal gun hand still smarting, moved to switch the weapon between his hands, but by the time he was ready, the lunatic had absconded, piece of ear and all.

Results

28 Contestants Remain​

Jak has a broken foot, some discomfort in his gut, and a piece of his ear missing (Major Injury, mostly the foot part)
Malloki has been shot with the Pepperbox Pistol! (Minor Injury) and he’s missing some teeth

The Pepperbox Pistol has 5 more shots left.

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

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

“See, my fair Viewers? Satisfaction. I told ol’ Antenna that I’d teach him how to play Pattycake, and I did! See?” Pealing burned flesh cheek back, he displayed a missing canine and molar. “That was a good game! Maybe we’ll swing back by later and have a round two!”

He had slowed finally in his ever vigilant advance. Why? Well, his muscles were beginning to fail him. Running from contestant to contestant was tiring, and before now Malloki had never once set foot in a gym… or in running shorts… or in any form of exercise. If he continued on running, it would only mean his games would be less entertaining.

“I know all you viewers at home would like me to run headlong into the next game, but I’m not going to do that. I’m going to play smart…” With that, the man came to a full stop to remove his rucksack. Out came a good ol’ MRE and a bottle of water. “Time for snack first!”

There was a drastic switch as the psychopath began ripping open his Meal-Ready-to-Eat. “Welcome to the Malloki Cooking special! Today, we will be showing all you lovely viewers at home how you too can eat like your life depends on it!” Various packets were scattered across the ground.

“To start with… We’ll take a look at all our ingredients. Looks like today’s special is Chicken Alfredo, some military grade hard-tack -- that’ll keep us from pooping EVER and a fruity drink mix!” He began by tearing open the main course package, but paused to look up at the imaginary camera.

“But we shouldn’t forget our special ingredient!” The man slid a hand into his leather jacket and from his inner pocket retrieved his new gift. The inches length worth of Eco-Ear was held on display in its bloody glory. “With this, we’ll get all that deliciousness of home on the go!”

Like some professional chef, he expertly tucked the main course into the heating packet with the ear away from the thermal chemical. “Now we sit that bad boy up against a rock, so when that heat escapes it doesn’t shoot off like a fucking rocket!”

Propped up, he plucked a bottle of water from his sack and filled the container. “Now I know how tempting this stuff is to eat, but even I would say not to do it when you are already playing a game!” Literally no one ever would have the desire to eat the contents of the packet except Malloki, but of course the madman did not consider that.

“As that heats up, we’re going to go ahead and enjoy a drink and some dessert! Ooh, pumpkin pie! I’m allergic to pumpkin! Guess we’ll be saving that for later!” Plunk goes the packet back into his backpack. “

And so time passed. Malloki stared deeply into where he imagined a camera might be hidden. OF course, his idea of mid-air invisible cameras was probably far fetched. Or not. Hard to tell sometimes.

“And that should be good!” The sharpness of his announcement and the grotesque face had all the jumpscare of a major horror film. Now, we eat! But we’re still playing, so we gotta walk and eat. Maybe play Tea-Party! I even have a trusty fork to hand out sugar and cream!”

He took a few deep gulps of his water, scabbed burned lips crackling around the mouth of the bottle. Malloki quickly capped it and stuffed any leftovers back in his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

“And that, children, is how we Cook with Malloki!” He chimed whilst pulling the severed ear from the heated pouch. The gnawing that followed was grizzly. The strain caused the bloody scabs of his cheek opposite the missing teeth to crackle open and bleed yet again.

“Mmm, delish! Now, on to the next game! Little beepy tells me our next target is north! Let’s see if they’re still there, shall we?” One foot in front of the other. Step by step, the ear-eating monstrosity begins his warpath anew. Food may not heal him here, but he was just having a blast.

Several, actually… with the pepperbox wound so close to his esophogus that some of the well chewed ear and chicken alfredo leaked from within his mangled body to mix with the brackish crimson oozing from his throat to stain the wife-beater a miasma of warm and gruesome colors.

 

[Nico Cinder]

"Gone so soon?!" I didn't recognize my own voice as it rang out across the field. It was tinged with the raspy enthusiasm of a teenager on too much Adderall, though amphetamines are hardly where it's at for me personally. We care about our teeth around here, yessir -- I certainly couldn't go nuts on stage with meth mouth. I mean, I guess I could, but it's not exactly the image I'm shooting for. I wasn't exactly surprised that, given how explodey things had gotten, that asshole was nowhere to be seen. There was a pleasantly sized crater where that freakshow was moments ago, so either I blew that son' bitch straight to high hell, or he got the fuck out of dodge while he could. Whatever happened to that poor fuck, he definitely was not my problem anymore.

My hand drifted to my chest, tentatively feeling out the newly agitated skin. Felt like I had fallen asleep on the beach, with my chest blistering like that. I'm not used to getting sunburned, but the way the skin on my abdomen pinched and screamed with the slightest shift of clothing made me all the more grateful for good genes. There wasn't anything in the pack of the medical nature, so I just emptied part of a water bottle on my chest for instant, if momentary relief. A waste of water? Sure, but water falls out of the sky so I'm not too worried about it. Shouldering the rocket launcher with a sastisfying CLANK, I pull the compass out of my pocket to double check my bearings. Let's get this bread, I guess.

---

Ah fuck I miss the Xbox. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, my face hurts. Everything hurts. My first thought was that It hadn't been long enough in the game for me to be in so much pain, but then I remembered my trade Nico secret: I'm always in fucking pain. I plodded steadily down a rocky trail that was cut into the base of what I can only assume to be a mountain of death. Opposite the mountain was a small hill plateau thingy, so the trail was sandwiched and railroaded between the two. I'd been working my way down it for a while now. I scarfed down an MRE before I started down the path, and it tasted about as good then as it felt on my stomach now. Christ, what I wouldn't do for a fucking can of Monster.

The road was oddly taken care of, but it was still just earth and rocks and grass, so I didn't bother trying to call the Occedia. It wouldn't surprise me if, for some ungodly reason, that board can roll perfectly well over dirt, but I didn't wanna bother testing it out with this whole thing being streamed. Never knew when the cameras were watching, and I damn sure wasn't going to intentionally eat shit in front of the entire multiverse. I'm dead lost as can be in my thoughts as I cross one of the last curves on the trail, I'm greeted with a pleasant sight: apparently water not only falls from the sky but grows from the ground as well.

I make way for the nearest shady looking tree and pop a squat, gently laying down my new favorite toy in front of me. It was a massive hunk of metal, complete with four barrels or chambers or whatever the word for rockets is. I poke an indention in the side of it, an a little optic flicks out with a satisfying click. Before I die, on my fucking honor - of which there is none left - I am definitely going to figure out how to fire four rockets at once. A sigh pushes past my lips, beyond my control. The wind gently whispers in my ears and I close my eyes. Rest never comes easy anymore, so the calm here is something my body just refused to not take advantage of. My hand glides across the soft grass, and I try to focus on the texture of it against my sweaty palm. It's in this moment that my fingers brush against a fallen pecan, and I realize what kind of tree it is I'm napping under right before sleep takes me.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#10 Malloki vs #27 Jason Voorhees
​

Jak Mar was a memory. A distant one. Lost in the haze of blood.

The viewing audience found themselves debating whether or not Malloki even recalled fighting the elven-eared eco warrior.

Either way, their mangled champion was shambling along the plains with half his teeth missing and the other half still passively chewing on an oversized mass of ear flesh.

“Where did I get the gum from?” Malloki asked out loud as he plucked it from his mouth, gave it a once over, and jammed it back in the good side of his face. “Where are the blips at?”

chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh …

“Sound effects?” The man shouted as glanced around at his surroundings. With the sun starting to crest on the horizon, he could see further than he could a few hours ago, but a quick scan showed nothing. He knew he was insane, but he was supposed to be that special type of crazy that could separate the madness from this shitty reality. “Cameras? That’s where this is comin’ from, isn’t it? Tell me your secrets, Karl.”

Chh Chh Chh … Ahh Ahh Ahh …

Halfway through his third spin, Malloki stopped dead in his heels at the sight of a massive man in tattered, water-soaked clothes. “The fuck are you?” A hockey mask with an axe wound covered the bald figure’s head, and while one hand was inside his coat, the other gripped a large machete.

“Hey,” Malloki muttered as he pointed an accusatory finger. “Where’s your neck thing?”

Jason tilted his head.

“Don’t speak? Cat got your tongue? You gonna try and cut me with that, you giant wet freak?”

The hand that had been inside the serial killer’s coat emerged to reveal that it was encased in some sort of red, football-shaped device.

“Hey, what’s that?”

The Proto Buster flickered, and a moment later, a massive burst of energy tore through Malloki’s left shoulder, literally disintegrating the flesh, muscle, and bone before the voodoo doll could finish drawing a quick, surprised breath of air.

Malloki didn’t scream—that shit was beneath him. He did grab at his left wrist almost reflexively, and when he looked at it, he noticed that it was no longer attached.

“I didn’t request a handicap…” the voodoo doll slurred, completely unaware that he had swallowed the ear chunk.

Lifting his now blurred vision away from his cauterized stump, Malloki noticed that his new friend was gone, and in his place, there was only a puddle of water.

Results

28 Contestants Remain​

Malloki has been horribly burned by plasma and has lost his left arm (Insane Injury)
Jason has the Proto Buster

Malloki has forever waived his cooldown.

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Mickey Mouse’s heart dropped into his stomach as he and Gilgamesh stood at the gates to the graveyard. Between that and his breakfast sitting less than well, he was beginning to feel utterly nauseous.

“No way,” he shook his head.

“Honestly, mouse,” Gilgamesh glared at him, “this is where you draw the line?”

Something about the environment on the other side of the wrought-iron fence deeply unsettled the keyblade master. Mickey had faced many a villain in his lifespan, but cemeteries spooked him most of all. Could anyone blame him? A buncha dear departed people lying under the ground super close to each other? That sounded like a recipe for some seriously scary stuff. The mouse king wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of all that nonsense.

…no pun intended.

“I took you for a much braver mouse,” the King of Heroes deadpanned. “This is our path. Follow or be left behind.” With that, Mickey’s golden-haired partner set off into the dreary graveyard, leaving the mouse king shaking in his boots… or, uh, sneakers.

Mickey blinked. The quality of the air itself seemed to change past the gates, and within moments, the fog blanketing the area wrapped itself so tightly around Gilgamesh that he disappeared entirely. The mouse’s teeth chattered as he stood frozen to the spot, straining his vision to try to catch a glimpse of his companion’s golden armor. Nothing, not even a reflective glint of the newly-risen sun, penetrated the thick haze that hung over the entire place, and Mickey became acutely aware that he’d been faced with a true lose-lose choice: stay with Gilgamesh and go into the graveyard, or stay out here and be completely alone.

A rustling in the rocky landscape behind him made the decision a little easier. He bounded forward away from the threat of, potentially, another competitor and dove into the foggy air. He bobbed and wove through a maze of gravestones, a forest of marble, slate, and granite rising up everywhere he looked. His yellow-and-black sneakers sank in the gross, brown mud as he sprinted through the rows of graves, occasionally brushing a tuft of grass, darker green in color than any he’d ever seen.

He pushed down the screams bubbling in his tiny mouse throat, eyes searching frantically for his much taller companion. Tears welled in his eyes, turning the jungle of headstones into a blurry mess, until finally he met one with his face.

SMACK!

He plummeted backwards, a circle of birds swooshing around his head and visions of ghosties and creepy-crawlies and heffalumps and woozles stampeding towards him. His head snapped up and his gaze focused intensely on the grave ahead of him. His vision was still blurry, but the words slowly came into focus:

‘Here Lies Mickey Mouse.’

He let out a wail, and scrambled backwards until he met another headstone. He glanced over his shoulder, barely catching the words ‘Here Lies Gilgamesh’ before screeching again and diving into the mud. He crawled on his stomach through this corridor of gravestones, eyes darting from this one and that, names of the various competitors in this year’s Abyss filtering past him. ‘Here Lies Mugen’… ‘Arthur Morgan’… ‘Victor Wolfe.’

Tears spilled down his furry cheeks and another scream loosed from his lips as something yanked at the hood of his jacket. He flailed as he was lifted off the ground, lightsaber slipping from his fingers and duffel falling from his shoulder. The monster that snatched him lifted him higher, and Mickey Mouse shut his eyes to avoid meeting the gaze of the ghost or zombie that had been sent to do him in.

“Rodent.”

Mickey’s breath caught in his throat, and he tentatively opened his eyes. He had never been so glad to see Gilgamesh’s smug face. The King of Heroes did not look pleased.

“Your King commands you to cease this caterwauling,” he scowled, “before you give away our position.”

“B-b-but —” Mickey stammered back, pointing a finger down towards the headstones, “— the graves! They’ve got our names!”

“Karl’s theatrics and nothing more,” the other monarch sneered. “Pull yourself together.”

Mickey Mouse whimpered, and Gilgamesh scoffed. The King of Heroes tossed his tentative ‘ally’ to the ground, and the mouse’s nose splashed in mud. Slowly, he picked himself up and brushed off as much dirt and grime as he could. Nevertheless, his jacket and shorts now desperately needed to be laundered. Hope of that had almost slipped from his mind when he spotted, just past Gilgamesh, a path that led to… a house of some kind?

“Hey,” he peeped, “you think that place has a washer and dryer or somethin’?”

Gilgamesh glanced back at Mickey, barely masking his annoyance. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to acknowledge the mouse’s idiotic question with a response, but eventually he grunted out a reply. “Your priorities are pathetic, mouse,” he growled, “but perhaps it’d make for good shelter nonetheless.”

With that, the tyrant stalked ahead, stamping through the muddy graveyard. The house on the hill wasn’t close, but they’d certainly reach it before high noon.

As they snaked through the cemetery’s lanes, Mickey jogged to catch up with the young man.

“You’re never scared of anything,” he observed. “How?”

Gilgamesh let out a deep breath. He didn’t look at Mickey, but he stopped his stride.

“I’m the King of Heroes,” he shrugged. “Isn’t that what you fancy yourself? A hero?”

 

[Kopaka]

Kopaka considered the question carefully, and instinctively began to pace in a circle around the Arthur human. Arthur, having participated in his fair share of shootouts, reciprocated the slow, analytical walk. The energy weapon whirred with menacing intent as the cowboy reshouldered its gleaming mass. The light of dawn was in full glory now, allowing the first shadows of daylight to stretch from their slumber. A bird chirped; the first natural sound to be heard since the weapon had fired last.

"I was not given a weapon." Kopaka ceded. This point was easy enough to say; if had been given such a thing, he would have used it during the skirmish.

"Anything...valuable?" Arthur pressed. Kopaka paused, before loosing his duffel and tossing it midway between them. Arthur approached a few steps, before gesturing with the humming weapon.

"Back off now." he grumbled. Kopaka obliged, and took a patient step back. The outlaw slowly bent down, while maintaining his aim on the android, and paddled through the contents. The human scoffed softly before slinging it back towards Kopaka, who caught it with an icy grip.

"Startin' to feel like I got me the whole stick, not just the long end." he chuckled. Arthur clucked his tongue, and tilted his head. The green aperture of the BFG remained steadily pointed at Kopaka.

"I'm not keen to rob you, 'specially since you ain't got anything worth the takin'. But if you saunter off again I'll have to put fire on you, and I ain't keen on that either." Arthur said. His tone was plain, and devoid of deception. Kopaka recognized the expression of reluctance on the human's face. A slow breeze wafted over the hillside, rustling the stubborn shrubs surrounding them.

"You would hold me captive, then?" Kopaka spat. He was not a piece of chattel to be ordered about by an enemy. The idea did not befit the title of Toa. Arthur shook his head in consolation. The outlaw certainly didn't blame Kopaka for being a captive; people were meant to be free.

"Whelp..." Arthur said, lowering the BFG and tilting his brimmed hat downwards, "...I s'pose that's entirely up to your attitude."

Kopaka didn't have time for this nuance.

"Are you proposing cooperation?" the Toa hissed. Arthur shrugged. This bristled the android even more; endless pretext seemed to be the primary form of communication for these human-type entities. He did not doubt the threat, however. Additionally, it was no guarantee that he would be offered such a partnership again. Kopaka stared into Arthur's squinting gaze for a long time.

"So be it. Our bond is forged." Kopaka said solemnly. A wide, earnest grin split Arthur's face. The cowboy strode forwards with an, open, outstretched hand. The android stared at it in mild confusion. Arthur coughed, partly due to the pain of being throttled, but partly in embarrassment for the Toa.

"You uh...know what a hand shake is, partner?" the human asked. Kopaka did not, but he tentatively reached out with an open hand as well. Arthur took it firmly and violently wrenched Kopaka's arm up and down. The Toa blinked, and pulled his hand back.

"Now we shook on it. Ain't no takin' that back." Arthur said, following through with a pat on Kopaka's shoulder. The android uttered a scoff of his own.

"Time shall tell. We should reposition ourselves." he droned. The human nodded, and the two surveyed the landscape silently for a minute. Suddenly, an item of deep, urgent curiosity forced Arthur to break the silence.

"Hey uh...them salsa things any good?"

"Yes."

 

[Aku]

The morning sun slowly rises above the island, filling the landmass with light. Darkness creeps away as the natural source of light takes over. As the sun shines down, the valley began to be consumed by sunlight. The tree Aku rests against begins to give shade by the time of the day. Still, his leg was not back to normal yet and anticipates finding anything to heal him.

No human-made structures were within his vicinity to scope out for any supplies. Only mother nature surrounds the embodiment of evil that's against her ways.

"DON'T WORRY ANY OF MY FANS AT HOME. I AM NOT DONE YET IN THIS LITTLE GAME. WHAT FUELS ME IS THAT FOOLS ARE STILL RUNNING OUT THERE, READY TO BE CRUSH BY ME! I WILL NOT GIVE UP EASILY TO THESE INSIGNIFICANT PESTS! FOR I AM THE MASTER OF ALL THINGS! BWAHAHAHAHA!" The shogun of sorrow speaks his mind to the covert cameras watching him, thinking there must be at least fans of his greatness.

He decides to stop resting and continue his odyssey on this island.

"I'll SHOW EVERYONE JUST WAIT AND SEE." he continues, trying to inflate his enthusiasm, but it's not helping after his first encounter.

He must not fail again, Aku will next try to barbeque anyone for pleasure at least along with turning them into dust. The mortal of darkness limps his way up a hill completely covered in grass. He stops to survey his surroundings on the top of the prominence as sunlight is attracted to his blacked-out colored skin. His body is starting to heat up quickly, causing sweat to drain out of his flesh pours. Nothing stands out from where Aku reached, only can he see is more trees creating forests and the vast rocky mountain placed in the center of the island.

The shogun of sorrow spins his duffel bag around, facing towards him. He unzips it and searches for his map along with the compass. While the sun is present, Aku can now read the label sticker on the capsule's side. That item is currently no use of fighting or not fighting, but it does put a wicked smile on his face, showing his natural white teeth.

"This will come useful some other time," Aku speaks to himself in a low voice about that specific item with a straight face.

He grabs the map out and the compass to help locate where he wants to explore. Not only to explore but maybe come across other contestants. Perhaps his minor injury might not help him in the next interaction. Finding extra supplies will be useful to achieve his victory. A city painted on his map is located not too far from Aku. There should be something useful at that location on the chart.

Aku looks down on his other hand to see where the compass points to the direction of civilization. The needle swings and stops at a particular part of the compass. He looks at his map again to be sure about the parameter.

After double-checking himself, Aku sets off down the hill to the green sea of trees that populate the island. Buzzards soon start soaring in circles far above the shogun of sorrow, searching for any corpses of the dead.

 

[Malloki Tuwile]

The game was getting real. His breath was heavy as the insane amount of adrenaline rushed through his system. The wide eyes of the madlad scoured the lands but found nothing but… well, land. And a puddle of water, but that was of no importance.

For good measure though, he did stomp in it several times.

After slipping and falling in the puddle, he unleashed a groan. It felt like this tickle fight was finally draining him. So sleepy… was it time for the long nap yet?

The long nap sounded so nice…

“Gack! Fuck! No! More games! You hear that, Antonio Montoya? I’m still here! Your game ain’t shit! … It ain’t shit…” His initial thrashing and yelling simmered into a moment of peace. Everything ached, even the remains of his limb a few meters away.

Hold up.

With a grunt of effort, he turned the neck so scabbed over. The arm was lying upon the ground. Like his stump of a shoulder, no blood flowed from it. It just sat there. Waiting.

“You. Fucking. Genius!” His life was renewed with a whole new meaning. Malloki clambered single-handedly to his feet. Not by choice, his lacking limb threw balance to the wind. The maniac with a plan stumbled over to the disembodied arm and took his own hand.

”TIME FOR SOME TENNIS!” He squealed to the heavens as he gave his own arm a heavy swing. “You think you got a fun game, puddle boi? Well, hell hath no fury like the GAMER RAGE!”

With the arm flailing, he headed onward to glory. “PAT-A-CAKE PAT-A-CAKE BAKERS HAND! BRING ME A GAME AS FAST AS YOU CAN!” He sang in a high pitched maniacal glee. “SMASH IT AND PRICK IT JUST COME AND SLAUGHTER ME!”

The perversion of the children’s song hung heavily in the air. Chances are, his singing may lose him a few fans, but the theme would bring them back.

 

[Jester Lavorre]

Deja vu...

Once again he'd bumped into rough and tumble cowboy, and once again he'd been bested. This time the raven haired swordsman-without-a-sword had borrowed the assistance of two others at the end of the conflict, and it still wasn't enough to get the drop on Arthur. As he pelted through the woods, tail between his legs, Mugen cursed the first moment he'd laid eyes on that bumpkin by the stream in the pre-game. A simple man, and dull looking. Now that same simpleton had bested him not once, but twice in one morning.

And Victor had been an unexpected turn of events, too. Sleazing around with that fire-wench, and popping up at the worst moment. Mugen had a sneaking suspicion that followers were as deadly a weapon in Vicky's hands as anything Karl Jak had been handing out.

In two out of two match-ups, Mugen had truly been the popsicle to the deadly cowboy's goop-rifle.

When he'd put enough distance between himself and the foot of the mountain he'd descended via tumbling, bespattering it with his blood all the way, Mugen began to slow. Two narrow escapes and a lot of cardio had left him feeling drained and defeated.

All he had to show for his efforts were a soggy popsicle stick, a chest flambé a la Arthur, and a body that looked like it'd been run once across a grater. With an expression like a wet cat pet backwards, he cast his eyes proprietorially over his new locale: a murky swamp whose smell and aesthetic matched his mood.

"Gonna get stuck with a damn frog for a weapon," the unarmed samurai murmured darkly, eyeing one such creature that hopped into murky waters unsuspectingly. "Two edible weapons in one day. Ain't that some luck?"

He cast his sullen, wily eyes towards southern end of the swamp.

It was hazy with fog and mid-morning sunbeams pushing their way gently through a canopy of gloomy murk-wood. There was a certain other-worldly beauty that caught Mugen off-guard for a moment, and he had to marvel at how something so naturally pretty could exist in an environment so unnaturally designated for a death contest. The melancholic feel of the place fit his current mood as if he'd been drawn to it by some otherworldly pull.

He made his way through the ethereal swamp, tromping through thick sludge and steeling himself, in case something popped out of the gloom.

As he walked, he held his map a few inches in front of his nose. He couldn't read, but you didn't need to be a scholar to decipher a map like this.

The samurai wiped his right finger across his left forearm and borrowed some of the blood from one of his myriad scrapes, which he then used to sketch a bloody line from where he started to where he found himself now. On that same map, he polka-dotted the area of his last cluster-fuck confrontation four times, and to add some flavor drew an ill-looking frowning face on that same tile. ...then he drew a crude cowboy hat on that frowning face. And gave it buck teeth.

He knew where the cowboy had come from, and knowing his luck, that fire slime gun toting bastard was nipping at the heels of his escape...best to try and put some distance in, then.

Some of those folks had to have come from...this way...he used one of his unbloodied fingers to point out a tile to himself, face screwed up in thought.

Then he would hunt on...THIS tile.

Mugen pointed his finger at his final destination.

This would be the tile that would finally yield his weapon. The third time was the charm. He set his gaze towards his new fortune, and held his head a little higher knowing that whoever he ran into, he would be taking their weapon or their life, this time.

 

[Solomon Grundy]

Okuyasu busied himself with finding a big container for the popcorn Suwako had so helpfully revealed. She really wasn't really that bad, especially after he'd seen the utter carnage she'd wreaked in the concession stand. Empty cotton candy sugar boxes, shattered lollipops, and half chewed piles of circus peanuts that had probably been deemed stale upon consumption.

He was impressed.

"You really like your sugar, huh? Well, I guess that makes sense for a goddess, hhhtch." He watched as she dragged a sack out from a closet, thunking down a large metal drum. "Here, lemme help ya dump it. This can be like, a.....an offering! Yeah! So, no hard feelings about fighting, alright?" A smile came to his face as the tinkling of corn kernals cascaded into the drum. He took a step back and summoned The Hand, using it's speed and strengtg to pound the drum into the dirt so it wouldn't fall over for the next part. "UrahhhhHHRARARARARARA! KSHAAAAH!

The drum was beaten into the ground into more of a firepit than a drum, and The Hand, still manifested, removed Okuyasu's jetpack and held it over the kernal filled bin. "I saw this in a movie once!" He exclaimed, not mentioning that it had been a home movie of hinself trying to make Stove Pop with a butane torch. The principle was the same though.

Suwako looked on with interest as Okuyasu positioned the jetpack above the drum, and fired it on. It sputtered to life, pouring superheated blue flames over the snack and immediately starting to resound with the joyful popping of fair food. The Hand seemed to have a good grip on the jetpack, but Okuyasu could feel the weight of the thrust slowly pulling upwards against his Stand's grip.

"Just....another...second.....hey, see if ya can find some butter!" He called to Suwako, who nodded and turned around for a second. It was in this second that Okuyasu, attempting to impress the deity from his homeland, grunted and yanked down on the active jetpack with his Stand.....and in doing so, flicked the "afterburn" button.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Crap crap crap! Sorrrrry!" He called as the jetpack took off vertically with a WHOOOOOOSH, popping the rest of the kernals at the very least before he was sent spiraling towards the horizon. "It was nice meeting you! No hard feelings!" His voice died down, the froggy goddess staring up incredulously at the out of control youth lazily doing uncontrolled arcs through the sky, wrestling with his jetpack and desperately trying not to drop anything as he jetted off towards unknown lands.