For his part, Mugen felt kind of bad as he crept up on the crippled, broken mass of humanity who was humming and screeching musical nonsense into the dawn sky. The ronin, with the heaviest rock he could find, had tracked the madman almost all the way to the outer limits of one of the island’s few settlements. In the growing light of day, Mugen could spot what seemed to be… skyscrapers? Would these have been present from the mountains had it been daylight and had said cliffs been free of dragon people and cowboys?
“You know,” Malloki gurgled, coming to an abrupt stop. “How long are you planning to creep behind me?”
“Long enough,” Mugen shot back as he sprung forward and smashed the rock against Malloki’s head. The samurai felt something give beneath the stone, but his flash of success was sundered by a horrifying headache that seemed to come from nowhere. Cursing, the young man dropped the rock and clutched the side of his head.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” Malloki spoke as he turned and cracked Mugen in the side of the head with his severed arm.
Mugen, who remained standing and wearing a red smear across the side of his face, found himself at a loss for words once again.
“Was it too limp?” Malloki asked as he looked down at the severed limb.
“Something like that,” Mugen answered as he kicked the man in the gut, causing him to topple sideways. Fighting through a sudden stomachache, the samurai recollected his rock and brought it crashing down onto the side of Malloki’s head.
“Game…” the figure on the mouth groaned.
“Over.” Mugen replied as he brought the stone down one final time.
Harboring on hell of a headache all of a sudden, Mugen crouched down next to the dead man’s bag and opened it. Inside he saw all the standard supplies, but near the bottom of the bag…
“Oh, just fucking lovely,” the ronin groaned.
#10 Malloki DEAD
27 Contestants Remain
Mugen gains the GPS
Mugen is on cooldown, unless he opts to waive this via PMs.
Malloki is dead. He can cash in any Revival Consumable on the World of his choice.
Face to Face
#02 Okuyasu vs #03 Mickey Mouse & #05 Gilgamesh
“Oh, this should be fun.” Karl poked the screen.
“The guy with the jetpack and the two kings who will ultimately betray each other during a thunderstorm against a background of orchestral music?”
Karl furrowed his brow. “No, Kevin, this has that Okuyasu guy, so we get to see how badly ‘he’ fucks up this time. He had his notes all fucked up the last go around.”
“Why would he screw up on purpose? He’s a bit zany, but that’s like eighty percent of the cast of characters on the island.”
“Did you not pick up on the emphasis?” Karl asked as he wheeled around. “I’m talking,” the producer pointed up to the ceiling. “Him.”
“I thought we were on the top floor, Sir.”
“Kai damn it, Kevin!”
***
Okuyasu had the Hand out as he descended toward the ground.
“You landed in the wrong spot,” a stern voice replied.
The stand user grinned as he turned to face the man in the golden armor. “I don’t think the odds are in your favor,” Okuyasu shot back as the Hand took a spot directly behind him.
“I’m not intimidated by your tall… muscular sidekick,” Gilgamesh replied, prompting Okuyasu to glimpse back at the Hand and then to the smug asshole in the armor.
“You can see…? Damn.”
“Why wouldn’t I? The sun is right there.” Gilgamesh pointed to the where the island’s star as rising in the sky. “Either way, I’m not here by myself.”
“Oh yea?” Okuyasu asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You and what army?”
“I don’t need an army. I have…” the King paused, but after a moment, he gathered the will to finish the sentence. “A mouse.”
“That’s me!”
Okuyasu turned and found himself staring at a fucking talking mouse with a forked lightsaber. “Oh, hell no. Kill it!” The stand user swiped alongside the Hand, but the spry nightmare monster knew what was coming quickly enough to dive as the ground beneath him dematerialized. Okuyasu yanked back on the joystick and took to the skies as a ray of some sort of blue lightning arched through air beneath him.
The Hand moved to occupy the interests of the mouse as Okuyasu set his sights on blondie and the frost-tipped gun in his hands. Another ray of frost came glittering up into the morning sky as the stand user dodged to the left and accelerated into a dive. Gilgamesh took a step back and tried to adjust his aim, but the rockets on Okuyasu’s mercenary backpack let him close the distance too quickly. A pair of boots crashed into the monarch’s forehead as the flying man proceeded to rocket away from a retaliatory swing.
“Get down here and fight me!” Gilgamesh shouted.
A few yards away, Mickey found himself hopping around as pockets of earth vanished underneath his oversized boots. With each lunge, he realized—altogether horrified—that the unspeaking entity was drawing closer and closer to him.
“I guess this requires a direct approach,” Mickey whispered to himself as dove at the Hand and swung the lightsaber. While he had hoped for some sort of reaction from his adversary, the last thing the tiny king had anticipated was for the towering entity to blink out of existence. The mouse crashed into the ground, kicking up a large pile of dust.
One moment, it was just Okuyasu darting around bursts of freezing energy, but out of the blue, he was rejoined by his towering companion. “Mine’s bigger than yours,” the stand user laughed as his hand swung down and the twosome vanished.
Gilgamesh clenched his jaw as he tried to spot the area around him for some telltale indication of the highly mobile fighter.
“Duck!” Mickey shouted as the gilded monarch saw the shadow moments before he let his legs cave underneath his armored mass. The air above him was vanished, and along with it, nearly the majority of the king’s equally gilded hair.
“Yikes, that’s not a good look for you,” Okuyasu chuckled as an irate Gilgamesh threw the Freeze Ray to Mickey.
After a sudden and subtle flick of his wrist, the mouse half-caught, half collapsed onto the hefty firearm and pulled the trigger with both of his hands. The errant beam of frozen energy sailed high over the head of the stand user, who watched it with a small smile on his face. “You missed.”
From beneath the black-haired man, Gilgamesh growled. “I won’t!”
Lurching from the ground, the taller of the two monarchs mashed the activation on the lightsaber as he swung the energized blade. Okuyasu’s eyes went wide as he realized the deceit. Gilgamesh saw a flash of horror on the man’s face before he vanished, leaving behind a pair of severed fingers.
28 Contestants Remain
Okuyasu has lost two fingers on his right hand (Minor Injury)
Gilgamesh has lost most of his hair (Story Injury)
Okuyasu used one application of Focus
Gilgamesh, Mickey, and Okuyasu are on cooldown, unless they opts to waive this via PMs.
One hand buried in his raven hair on his now splitting head, and the other hand on his new toy, Mugen felt a mixture of elation and nausea.
He needed a win after his morning from Hell - the viewers at home probably weren't placing any bets on him right out of the gate. He'd been dealt a hand like a foot to start things off.
...one victory in three was good enough for this ronin, though. A gambling man's odds.
The pressure in his head had reached a cumbersome apex, and Mugen rubbed idly at the side of his skull, noting with some grim realization that the pain corresponded with the concave indent in his victim's skull. Maybe it was a coincidence, but somehow, he didn't think it was.
Seated in an exhausted half-sprawl across the grass; the samurai gave a perfunctory glance over what was left of the corpse in front of him. It was grotesquely maimed, so much so that it gave Mugen pause to consider how the man had even been upright and breathing when he'd arrived on the scene. One of the John Doe's arms had been severed completely, cauterized at the root, and the missing appendage was clutched in the man's freaking hand. Whatever this guy had been through over the past twelve hours, this swift death could only be a favor - the living doll had been desecrated long before Mugen had found him.
The coppery smell of blood hung heavy in the midday air and intermingled with the stink clinging to whoever's body now lay beside him. Though he wanted to get away from the corpse, he needed to catch his breath even more.
So it was that the young opportunist found himself transferring the contents of one pack to another, his new tool beside him, humming pleasantly to himself despite his powerful headache. It was silent around him, and he felt confident that he'd put some space between himself and the deadlier foes at his back. A migraine was a small price to pay for his first kill, and it'd only been half a day. Maybe he'd even gotten the first kill on the island.
Though he ached from half a hundred places and his chest still nagged for his attention with its irksome burns, Mugen could tell things were starting to go his way.
Still, he wished he had a popsicle to brighten the morning.
It is nice to get some shade while walking through this forest after the sun is continuously beating down upon his body, and being pitch dark black doesn't help. The color of his skin gives the demon an immoral appearance to anyone new he will come across. Limping his way through the woods, he pushes shrubs and plants out to proceed toward his destination. Looking down at the compass, Aku is heading in the right direction.
He stays quiet and focuses on the objective that he wants to accomplish. Entering a new area, he smells a scent flowing through the demon's nose. Aku sniffs the area a couple of times and calculates a fresh corpse, exposing flesh and blood. Predators were in the region or other contestants killing for survival. In curiosity, Aku wants to check out this danger, but again, his wound throbs with the remembrance of pain.
No, he must stride to the city for any supplies to find. The shogun of sorrow limps away from the scent's path. After an hour of trudging, weakness comes over him of the depleted energy. Aku finds a long log to sit on to regain his breath and strength. His chest bobs up and down, inhaling air through his lungs.
Sweat drenches his whole body, making some of his muscles shiny in contact with the sunlight. While taking a break, the demon takes out a water bottle from his bag and cracks the cap open to drink a small amount. He must be conservative on his water supply to last for a while.
Rustling can be heard behind him, coming from a bush fifteen feet away. Aku quickly returns the closed water bottle to place back into the duffle bag. He stands up and swings it behind him, tightening the pack against his back. The sound goes quiet as the master of darkness faces in the direction toward the noise's location. Twenty seconds pass, an awkward silence falls on the area he stands.
YEEEOOOW!
A cougar roars as she pounces out of her hiding spot to take her prey, Aku. The shogun of sorrow evades the attack by rolling backward, over the log. She growls at the demon's scent, knowing he is a potential trespasser of her territory. Aku fears no dangerous animal that threatens his life. As she stands her ground, there is a low growl droning out of her jaws.
The cougar lets out another roar before another tempt to kill her prey.
YEEEOOOW!
Aku's eyes glow hot and release a white laser beam, covering the wild cat completely. He halts his powers to see a pile of ash, lying where she existed a second ago.
BWAHAHAHAHA!
His laugh roars throughout the forest, echoing across the land for everyone to hear.
"FOOLISH WILDLIFE AS ALWAYS, I AM THE TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN!" the demon pronounces in a booming voice for all the fauna to hear this new predator, claiming their home.
“Well, that certainly could have been worse! We now know that when we see that cowboy coming we move in the opposite direction”
“Fucking coward” his still dizzy companion shot back with.
“I am sorry my tinderbox princess but I am not the one that blew my load for nothing! I did it before the fight started to relieve a lot of the dirty thoughts I was having about rodent skulls and what I intend to do with them!”
Keleigh shivered as she turned to keep an eye on the assassin, they had retreated to a small mountain pass, a light stream flowing down from the melt caused by the morning sun.
Letting his hot date rest on some nearby rocks Victor removed his supplies from the bag placing the map into his inside pocket as the rest was left on the ground, all except the rabbit. A horrible ripping filled the air as the rabbit’s pelt was left for the crows, along with a trail of organs and viscera as Victor plopped the freshly skinned and hollowed corpse into his rucksack.
Setting the bag into the stream the assassin-turned-Emperor filled it with water, dragging the now full bag over to his companion he grinned.
“Now, take your glove off and boil this!” Victor motioned to his temporary pot.
“Surely you jest?” Kayleigh started before she sighed, realising that her jester of a companion was not joking.
“Listen girly, you may think you have me all figured out, but I have actually been in this event before. If you had any sort of advanced healing, its off, this little scar on my face proves that, would have healed in seconds without these collars.”
Laying back, Victor watched the sunrise over the horizon.
“So, did you know any of those warriors.”
“I have met one of them before briefly, and the ice one seems like someone I should know? Maybe a dream from another world, but the one with the flame gun that made you about as useful as a match in a forest fire? He was a new one.” Victor seemed to ponder
“Although I must thank Mr Mu later, for without him trying to wrestle that gun with us, we may have been in trouble. Perhaps I will leave the skull attached and just fornicate with the entire body after we kill him.”
“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you.” Keighley sneered
“Depends who you ask really, manwhore, sociopath, murder and imperialist to some. An annoyance that gets in the way of proper paperwork to others… I miss Candy” Victor said with a sigh.
“One of your whores I take it?”
“More of a side chick really, if Gabriella ever hears that though I fear for both of our lives.”
Eudoria knew that she would regret asking but her curiosity piqued as she questioned. “Your? Wife? Partner?”
Victor thought for a moment, thinking over the complexities of him and Miss Shales' relationship over the years before a lightbulb illuminated in his head.
“I believe that the youth have the finest term for this sort of relationship and it would be baby-momma. I don’t exactly know where the phrasing comes from but it works so well.”
Rolling her eyes, she removed her gloves hoping that it would get the assassin to shut his mouth for once.
“Ohhh, good girl, now once you are done with that you can come and warm me up, that ice robot has left a chill in my heart, Victor said with a wink.
There was something incredibly undignified about all this--about being collared and put on display (ranked nineteenth, at that!) and shoved into a black-windowed helicopter to await his fate. Frieza grit his teeth. If he'd known in advance how humiliating this would be, how he'd be treated like a circus animal forced to perform for its masters, he might have reconsidered joining in the first place.
He shoved the thought from his head. No. He would bear this--for now. And he would be the one who got the last laugh.
Frieza's thoughts were interrupted when his number was called, at which point a duffel bag was tossed into his arms and before he could register the outside surroundings or even so much as ask "what now," he was unceremoniously shoved out of the helicopter, plummeting to the ground below.
Fortunately, the fall wasn't that far--maybe about two and a half meters, but he didn't exactly have a chance to count. Not far enough to be fatal, but far enough to hurt. Even more fortunately, he'd been dropped off onto the shallow, sandy bank of an ocean, which softened his impact considerably, but still. He shot an icy glare at the helicopter as it receded into the distant sky, exhaled, and collected his bearings.
Luckily the duffel bag he'd been given was waterproof, otherwise his aquatic landing would have been... bad. Frieza hauled himself to shore, did a quick once-over of his surroundings to make sure nobody was in the area, and unzipped the bag to examine its contents. Nothing unusual, as far as he could tell. A map, a compass, some water bottles, and some freeze-dried crab. ...Why was it all crab? Was this some kind of joke he wasn't in on? Well, whatever. It was perfectly edible. This was as much a survival competition as much as it was a battle royale, and his sturdy biology certainly gave him an advantage there. He kept digging, and--oh. Oh, this seemed useful. Better keep this hidden. Satisfied, he pulled out the map and compass, and zipped it back up.
He tapped a hand to his chin as he examined the map. To be honest, his current location seemed like a perfectly fine place to make camp. It was well guarded, well hidden, surrounded by cliffs and ocean--maybe he could even go fishing--and out of the way, so it was unlikely any of the other contestants would stumble across him. He much preferred the idea of laying low for now, waiting for the others to fight and thin out their numbers before entering the fray. He didn't know what the other contestants were capable of, and he didn't want to find himself as the test dummy.
Well. Maybe he would indulge himself if he did wind up finding someone wandering about by themselves. A grin played at the corners of his lips. Who could blame him?
Not to mention that it was the middle of the night. Blindly feeling his way through unfamiliar woods past nightfall seemed like... a bad idea. So he walked over to what seemed like a secure spot against the cliffside, found a soft patch of sand to curl up in, and fell asleep.
And before he knew it, he was woken up by Karl Jak's announcement.
Damn it. So much for setting up camp and waiting for the competition to thin itself out before making his move. He needed to get moving, right now. Not to mention, making his bed in the sand turned out to be a horrible idea. It was everywhere. He sharply flicked his tail to dislodge the granules that clung to his skin, but was only partially successful. Ugh, he'd be picking out stray grains of sand from his extremities for days, wouldn't he? For what was definitely not the first time, he inwardly cursed the sadistic god who had organized this whole competition in the first place.
Whatever. At least it was daybreak now--better visibility meant it was safer to start exploring the surrounding area. Not to mention, he was well-rested. He double-checked his map and compass, slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, and started walking.
Mustang upended some of the water bottle over his face, smearing portions of the dried blood away with his sleeve for lack of available cloth. He held up the iPhone, examining the injury with its front-facing camera. His nose was definitely broken but considering the amount of blood he had seen on the ground after the encounter he had been expecting worse.
Mustang’s eyes scanned the perimeter once more. The morning light had done little to improve their surroundings, and Mustang would be glad to move on quickly if possible. From his lookout position, Mustang glanced back towards Ashe-0. The large robot was crouched over, scouring the floor, occasionally selecting a piece of broken glass that she found acceptable and stowing it away in one of her bottles. Mustang wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new ally. She was clearly not designed to emulate a person, it was possible she could look similarly to an alien species, but it certainly wasn’t one that he had seen on Cevanti. Her bizarre combination of metal and muscle almost reminded him more of a Zoid at times, but he likely already owed her his life. Perhaps it would be better not to make assumptions.
“Hey.” Mustang called over with a low tone, eyes still scanning the surroundings, “You aren’t able to… reference any databases from here, right?”
“Correct.” Ashe-0 replied simply, holding up a shard to the light before discarding it, “Moving to the next window.” She stated. Mustang followed with a nod.
“So military rankings are high priority for you to know, eh?” he asked almost conversationally.
“I am designated for military operations on a large-scale battlefield. Command Hierarchy is essential to competent battle strategy.” Her response temporarily confused him. A being that large would certainly draw the enemy’s attention in a firefight. Was that factored into the design? Just how resilient was she?
“Really? I’ll admit you don’t have the look of a soldier.” The cyclopean being glanced back towards Mustang, though her face remained as impassive as always. A moment passed where neither of them said anything.
“My design is optimized for combat.” She said eventually, and Mustang wondered how much he was reading into the tone of her words. Not one of her sentences had contained a noticeable inflection, but he could swear that her word choice was showing some hints of irritation.
“Are the ears part of that optimization, then?” he asked, leaning against a wall with a slight grin. Ashe-0 stood up as well as she could in their surroundings.
“I have acquired sufficient quantities of suitable material.” Was her only response. Mustang chuckled quietly, pushing off from the wall and moving towards the exit of the room.
“Excellent, then let’s keep moving, I don’t have a good feeling about this place.”
Frieza had spent the darkest hours on the island in relative peace and quiet, but as the sun started to rise in the sky, he found himself being trailed by someone.
“I know you’re back there,” the alien rasped as he reached into his bag and closed a hand around his weapon.
“Hey! Keep it in your pants. I’m not here to fight.”
Frieza furrowed his brow. “Why should I trust you?” The changeling turned around to see that his new acquaintance was a human-looking figure in a red suit that covered his entire body. “Is… that spandex?”
“I think it’s more like a combination of spandex and the dreams of small children.”
“So you are an idiot.” Frieza had experience with idiots.
“Also I have no weapons. I even threw those supplies off a cliff. Even the gizmo they gave me.”
“Why?”
“So are you William?”
Frieza scowled, but despite the minor headache he was experiencing, there didn’t seem to be anything outwardly threatening about this idiot in spandex.
“How about Steve?”
“I’m going to walk now.” Frieza muttered.
“Don’t tell me yourhim?! That was such a short little side-hustle!"
Oh man, now that was the stuff. Course, your boy Pecan wasn’t satisfied just yet. No sir, this little degenerate did what every good addict does after a fresh hit. I started to feen for that good-good something fierce. Every little cut and every little scrape on my body throbbed with excitement. Now, I’m more of a sadist than a masochist, but any proper disciple of mayhem could appreciate the slings and arrows. Goosebumps chased themselves across my skin as my mind played the sound of Blueboy’s face smashing against the ground on loop. Damn, that was good. It was a shame Robot-lady had to come in and cockblock me. A few more smashes and Blueboy’s face woulda cracked open like a pinata. Just thinking about it got me all hot and bothered.
Why do you derive such enjoyment from cruelty? It doesn’t make sense, your brain is functioning properly but yet why are you so defective?
There she was again, HARMONY the holier-than-thou wet blanket, coming along and harshing my vibe yet again. Why was she so compelled to do that? Maybe because she didn’t have any blood of her own, so she couldn’t appreciate the fine art of spilling it? What was it about robots that made them so damned unlikable?
My satisfaction rating was in the top 5th percentile of medical and service automatons, with thousands of reviews. The reason you dislike me is simply because you are insane.
Oh hush babe, Ol’ Pecan is probably the most sane person on this island. All these other losers are probably contorting themselves into pretzels trying to pull off the mental gymnastics required to justify participating in a brutal bloodsport while still considering themselves “good guys”. At least I’m honest about why I’m here. Plus, I didn’t fucking ask you to hitch a ride in my domepiece, so don’t try and backseat drive while I’m just starting to get my rocks off. I’m a bird, darling, you gotta let me fly.
…
No response? Nothing?
Man, silence felt almost as good as feeding Blueboy a shit sandwich, almost. At any rate, enough about my marital affairs with the missus, it was time for some shenani-fuckin’-gans. Karl’s announcement boomed across the island, offering some unknown prize to the dumbass stubborn enough to win the inevitable dogpile in File City. And it just so happened that I was a stubborn dumbass. A stubborn dumbass with two hot little toys burning holes in his backpack.
So, to the dropzone I went, toys in hand and visions of carnage in my mind. I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a bit like Chris Cringle himself, handing out presents to all the good little boys and girls. Well, his presents were probably a little less explody than mine, but that was expected from a fat loser in a red suit. No sir, around here we do holidays right and ring in the new year with a bang. No, not a bang I mean a BANG.
Anticipation came in the form a sweating palms and a giddy, almost vibration kind of feeling across my skin. Once my little present was set I scurried off into a nearby building, giving myself a perfect vantage point for the unwrapping. Ooh, man, Pecan’s little heart was racing a million miles an hour just fantasizing over what was to come. More than once I had to catch my excited breathing and steady my shaking hands. I licked my lips, smacking them together like I was eyeing down a three-course meal.
“Come on baby,” I whispered, “Give me something good.”
As the first rays of the rising sun fell upon the island and the songbirds began their morning chorus, Toga stirred to wakefulness. Arms and legs stretched out, the warm rays of light contrasting with the cool air helped to loosen protesting muscles unused to a night lying in the grass. Slowly, the girl sat up and looked around her.
To her right, the land ended abruptly, the crashing waves below trying desperately to lull Toga back to sleep. Beyond that, a hemisphere of sun lay against a blue horizon of ocean, marking the start of a brand new day. To her left, the grass she was sitting upon was gradually replaced by tall and verdant trees, marking the beginning of a large forest.
For a moment, Toga did little else but stoically in her surroundings. She thought back to how she'd gotten in this mess in the first place. It had started off easy enough; she'd managed to avoid the cops by going to a whole other world. Greg had been remarkably easy to manipulate, but most importantly, the whole purpose of this comet was to kill people. And nothing excited the teenager more than the prospect of bleeding out a cute boy.
Things fell apart quickly after that. After recovering from the vertigo-inducing teleportation, she'd been quickly whisked away into a cramped office. The next few hours had been spent getting grilled over why she was there, while the played footage of the police questioning Greg on a tablet. Not that there was much to say about it. Toga liked to murder people, and Dante's Abyss was the premier murder game in the Crossroads. Why wouldn't she be here?
Of course, by the time it was all said and done, there had been only enough time to toss a collar on the girl, throw her her bag, and whisk her onto a helicopter so she could participate in the game. Exhausted from a long day of answering banal questions, Toga had fallen asleep on the flight, and then again once she was dropped off. So this was really the first chance she'd had to fully appreciate her situation.
"Welp! Can't sit around all day! There's cute boys to catch!" She said with a sudden smile, hopping to her feet. Snatching up her bag, she picked a random direction and began walking towards her destiny.
Today was the day of reckoning. The eco warrior stepped into the helicopter as he held his pack full of “goodies” this morning. Those packs of valuables were only visible to the long-eared Wastelander who watched from the skies as the helicopter was close, finally dropping the man toward the greenery during the night.
“Damnit, Karl!!!” Mar scowled toward the skies in slight bits of frustration. Under streaks of moonlight allowed the eco warrior to use his stealth to his advantage for the time being.
The fans back home. Daxter, potential fangirl stalker groups making fan pages and drooling over them. Even the likes of a spiritual succession of “Ash the storm demon” moved into his head on occasion to remind his two sides to stick together if it meant smashing the two’s heads together.
Night time was perfect for the lonely wastelander, who wasn’t a soldier like his friend, Torn or the excited womanizer like Daxter was. The tension of the situation reminded him of who he left behind and who was still with him on the road to fight.
To survive like a soldier, one had to play on his feet. The odds of the situation were stacked against him. He had to play the game of war, being persistent when the situation seemed dim.
So he laid low, stuck his head down which was dominated by the sounds of crickets and frogs croaking in the night, a nice night after all.
He took slow bites of his food package.
The Bob Ross of the Skies who painted an artist's loving depiction of dawn didn’t even allow for Jak to take a light breath as the the calmed eco warrior turned to notice in the shadows, a strange human with brown hair yelled a frankly ridiculous battle cry, screaming something about “Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man.”
Mar remembered the ludicrous glare the “human voodoo” doll gave him, everything about him was giving him a bad case of the “dear freaking crossroads god, what the hell is wrong with this guy” kind of look.
He quickly found out why Malloki was “a special” kind of freak”.
The Dark king stood impatient, glaring outside Jak’s eyes to see what was going on.
The noble translucent divine being walked forward next to the dark king, holding a dark eco spector to his liking as he walked forward. “Who the hell is this guy in the first place? His host was standing near the two with his Karl Jak “approved” weapon of choice.
The divine being looked at Jak “Mar?”
The eco warrior appeared to be chatting to himself “What?”
“I have a sense this guy isn’t what you think he is..”
Jak turned back, a bluish hand was placed on his shoulder.
“Light?”
“No, it’s Ash.”
The eco warrior must of imagined Ash being there in his head from his memories from the past
“Ash, what are you doing here?”
“No time, be careful.. Light’s warning you about something, listen to him.”
The bluish sex demon faded from view as Mar felt a bit more confident.
The conversation continued between the host and his two entities in his head.
As the fight began, Jak lifted his weapon and shot at the man trying to take a bite of his ear like it was cheese.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”
The eco warrior growled, so much for his pride on television. Daxter would be screaming at the tv, the fangirls would blink.
After said fight, wounds on his abdomen oddly hurt, as he dragged his foot.
Light rushed to Jak lifting his host up off the ground, as he was seen kneeling in his head.
The bluish demon turned “Remember last year? You fought hard, fought stronger. What happened ?”
The eco warrior stared back remembering his strength and pushed up, dragging his foot along as he frowned. There must be a stopping point somewhere.
The Dark King turned and grunted, “Why didn’t you use me when you had the chance, JAK! We could have crushed him, the beast collectively growled frustrated at the misuse of his chances.
The Nobel one sighed “Enough! Remember dark, we share this body. We signed a truce earlier and we have to make this work.”
The sun rose on a new day, casting its radiance over the island. Many would welcome the sight, and indeed Sigmund expected to be one of them, right up until the blinding orb peeked over the horizon.
“Gods, was the sun always so bright?” He muttered, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes. The cultist was leaning out a window, peering down over the silent city, his eyes darting about as he searched for any sign of a competitor below. Moments later, he froze up as his quiet vigil was interrupted by a faint rumbling sound. The psion glanced around, weapon at the ready before he heard the gurgling sound once more and sighed.
“Oh… Right.” He said, turning to the duffle bag at his feet and fishing out one of the pre-packaged meals. The high priest sliced the packet open with his weapon and took an appraising look at the food before he snapped around abruptly, glaring back at the door.
“I see you!” Sigmund snapped for the dozenth time, shooting an accusatory look at the stairwell. After a long moment, the mad priest was satisfied that no one was sneaking up on him and turned back to his food. He plucked a morsel from the packet and slipped it into his mouth, chewing the rubbery chunk with a raised eyebrow.
“Fascinating.” The cultist mumbled to himself, forcing himself to swallow it. He looked at the MRE again, intently reading the packaging to ensure that he was, in fact, eating food. Clearing his throat, Sigmund raised his voice to address the invisible cameras that may or may not have been on him at the moment.
“These ‘MRE’s, which I presume are standard among contestants, first seemed to be simple sustenance, but their significance cannot be understated.” The scholar announced, taking a chunk in his fingers and holding it up to the dawn light, inspecting it closely before tossing it into his mouth. Biting down, he instantly grimaced. “Never before have I encountered food so utterly devoid of taste, nor so unappetising in texture. Karl Jak is undoubtedly a genius, providing us with barely edible food in order to increase stress levels and reduce opportunities to find comfort through food, as some are want to do. I must look into the utilisation of unappetising foodstuffs in breaking down sanity in the future.”
Pleased with himself, Sigmund steeled his nerves and raised the packet to his lips, pouring the remainder of the MRE down his throat. Through sheer mental strength, he managed to force the food down, swallowing hard and reaching for one of the water bottles. Just before he took a swig, the cultist whirled around with another accusatory stare. This time, however, he almost fell out the window when he realised that he had actually caught someone.
“Hello?” The familiar young man said, cautiously approaching. “You were the High Priest, right?”
“That’s correct. Please, call me Sigmund.” He replied, taking a breath to calm his nerves. The priest quickly recalled that he had briefly met the youth in the pre-show. “You’re Cho, yes? Victor’s apprentice.”
“Yeah, that’s me.” The earthbender responded, visibly relaxing as he released the breath that he had apparently been holding.
“Well met, Cho. Have you seen anyone else in the city?” The cultist asked before washing down his meal and stuffing the water bottle back into his back. While he wanted to get to know the lad, business came first.
“No, I haven't.” The boy responded, taking a seat on the far side of the room. Sigmund nodded along, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, which earned him an odd look from his ally. “Should you really be doing that while wearing that thing?”
“Hmm? Oh, it's fine, I'm being careful.” The cultist reassured him. The pair simply remained there for a few minutes as the scholar allowed the youth to rest. “Sorry to do this, but we should probably get moving again. This is a great opportunity though, we can get better acquainted on the walk.”
Sigmund hauled his duffle bag onto his shoulder and set off down the stairwell as Cho did the same, keeping step behind the high priest.
“So, tell me about yourself.” The psion said, glancing back at the bender with curiosity in his eyes.
“Well, I've been working under Emperor Victor for-”
“You can just call him Victor around me.” The high priest said with a wry grin. “Besides, I want to hear about you, so please, tell me about yourself.”
"File City" is the name of the civilization, marked on Aku's map as he looked at it one more time before embarking.
Earlier in the morning, an announcement was made by the successful Karl Jak about a particular package that is important will be dropped in the center of this specific city.
Maybe this time, he will bring back his former glory by attaining this victory over this so-called "Easter Egg."
In the tone of Karl Jak's voice explaining everything, it made out that this package is vital to obtain in the long run.
Could it be a plentiful supply of healing products to get the mortal of darkness back into shape, or it might be a significant powerful weapon that Aku can use against his enemies?
The imagination danced inside his head of the unlimited possibilities that can occur. Again, Aku needs to play it safe since he still has a minor injury in his leg. Obtaining this thing might help restore the demon's big ego. Yes, everything might fall into place for his sake to annihilate this island in his name. This plan thought to collect the Easter Egg made him laugh at the outcome of his genius brain.
BLEHEHEHEHEHEHE!
Birds in nearby trees were startled by the monstrosity laugh that Aku releases. While exiting the green life-filled forest, a city is now in full view for shogun of sorrow to gaze. The city did not have many tall buildings, and it wasn't huge compared to the capital city he built on earth, ruling it with an iron fist. It appeared more of a local town filled by a series of buildings to make it less barren. His wickedness and wrath will strike any mortals that defy him in that town.
That same damn green curved evil smile takes shape across his blacked-out face about Karl Jak's signature Easter Egg.
"WATCH MY FANS AND VIEWERS AS I AKU, WILL TAKE OVER FILE CITY AND CRUSH ANYONE WHO STANDS IN MY WAY!" the embodiment of evil faces in a specific direction just as if a he appeared into a camera's lens.
Words coming out of Aku's mouth, project confidence on the outside, but the inside, his ego remains small about the mortal injury that brings him suffrage.
Sweat pours out onto his body to naturally cool it off in this hot weather. His muscles glistened as the sun reflects off the wet, salty droplets on top of the skin. The demon twists the bag around to unzip and get the bottle of water he was drinking earlier. He twists the cap off, taking a sip of his water supply. The water instantly cools his inner throat, satisfactorily.
Staying hydrated is helping to restore his energy to continue in this chess of madness.
Eyes on the prize.
Well, most importantly, your enemies too.
That's the only motto Aku can think of about getting a hold of that package.
Arthur hadn’t thought he would be forging bonds on this island of death, but Kopaka surprised him by being unexpectedly amenable to the idea. ‘Course, that was likely because of the devastating energy weapon leveled in his direction for most of their little ‘discussion’, but Arthur was glad to have the ice feller’s company. Weaponless though he was, Kopaka had still proven himself to be a force to be reckoned with-- the shards of swiftly melting ice scattered underfoot made that fact readily apparent, as did the glaring absence of Arthur’s attackers.
Scratching the scruff along the side of his face, Arthur regarded the marshland around them with a critical eye. Tall reeds stirred in the breeze, the occasional tinkling of birdsong ringing out. There weren’t much here for them, and judging by the sun’s slow ascent to the highest point in the sky, noontime was fast approaching. They’d be sitting ducks out here if they stuck around long enough.
"You were comin’ from over yonder," said Arthur suddenly, nodding across the swamp toward where a heap of ruins rested on the other side. “Find anything worth your while?”
Kopaka paused, the question hanging in the silent air between them for a few beats. Finally, his optics narrowed at Arthur, severe as ever. "I encountered one contestant, a human named Malloki. We fought, and at the end of our encounter he fled into the night. His mental state seemed… unhinged.”
Arthur hmmm-ed, thoughtful. “Ah. Bet that feller ain’t gonna last long out here, then.”
“It would seem unlikely,” agreed the bionicle, neck cables twisting as he tilted his head slightly to the side. He was growing tired of this human’s attempts at small talk. His searching gaze trailed to the massive mountain over Arthur’s shoulder, observing the tall peak shrouded in mist. “Do you know of what lies on the other side of the mountain?”
“Er,” Arthur dug his map out of his pack; he hadn’t thought to look at it much, what with his rowdy morning and all. Unfurling the slightly crumpled sheet in front of his face, Arthur squinted at the colorfully-illustrated landforms and settlements that littered the page. “Looks like there’s a bunch of interestin’ places over there, friend.”
“You speak the truth, Arthur Morgan. But there is only one among them that would yield a considerable advantage,” droned the Toa of Ice.
One eyebrow ticking up, Arthur turned an unimpressed look in Kopaka’s direction. “To you, you mean.”
The bionicle gazed at the former outlaw shrewdly, processor whirring. “It would seem… that you have already been granted a significant asset in this competition. If we are to be allies, it would stand to reason that I am in need of a similar advantage. Accomplishing this will necessitate traversing the island.”
Muttering under his breath, Arthur resisted the urge to smack himself upside the head. His throat still felt mighty sore though, the collar chafing at it whenever he so much as breathed, and so he settled for planting a hand on his hip with a special vehemence.
“That ain’t the problem, Kopaka.”
“...” said Kopaka, clearly awaiting Arthur’s undoubtedly enlightening elaboration.
“Do I look like I’m of a mind to go marching through the mountains? Into freezing weather?” the ex-outlaw grumbled, gesturing down at himself.
Kopaka scrutinized Arthur’s clothing for a moment. The flimsy coverings did, indeed, seem ill-suited to cold weather. But, there was one simple detail the human was forgetting—
“You are not required to make the journey,” the Toa pointed out, sounding a little miffed to Arthur’s ears. “Indeed, you are welcome to remain here. Indefinitely.”
Arthur huffed, shaking his head. He shouldered his pack, readying for the no doubt arduous trek ahead. “Not likely. You’re liable to get killed wandering around with just the sauce for protection. I’ll tag along, ‘least until we’re clear of any trouble.”
Okuyasu's emergency swipe had taken him far up enough to escape, the jetpack flashing as he screamed into the clouds and gritted his teeth in pain. Falling away from the site of the conflict, he started to come down near the mouth of a widing river.
He evened his breathing, the pulsing pain of his wounded hand starting to even out. He stared at it as the ground came up to meet his feet, clearly fascinated as to how the severed digits stopped bleeding so quickly. The blade of light had apparently cauterized the wound as it chopped his hand. Okuyasu bit his lip and glared back at the manor. This hurt like hell, sure, but he'd been through way worse. He'd had his entire side blown away by a bomb, he could overcome a couple missing fingers.
The Hand appeared and watched over it's user, staring wide-eyed as ever at it's similarly truncated appendage. Okuyasu swiped experimentally at a stick and it was consumed by nothingness as usual. "Good...tch, I was kinda worried." The youth shrugged his blue uniform top and stared at it mournfully. Already shot up and stained with blood from earlier, it would serve better as dressing than clothing. He began to rip it up into strips, binding them around the stub digits of his right hand. He also lifted up his undershirt and tied extra makeshift bandages over the wounds on his chest from Suwako.
Standing up, he looked around him before activating the jetpack and rising above the treeline to scan the nearby area.
Okuyasu is now dressed in his undershirt. Alternate outfit unlocked!
The Night had been relatively peaceful, giving the dawning sun that much more of a majestic coming as it peaked from the horizon. There was a moment of sorrow as I realized it had been a long time since I had gone camping without the context of hunting or killing something. I resolved to go outdoorsing for fun once I had escaped from this particular horror show. The thought was giving me something to keep my sharp mind from devolving into pure paranoia as the rays of the morning sun cast long shadows across the long grass. Like fingers seeking to grip the entirety of the island and pull it into the shadow realm they spawned from.
Thinking also helped me keep my cool as my mind looped the iconic sound of the BFG 9000 firing off in the distance last night, a mist of green plasma burning off where its target once was.
Someone was touching my baby and it wasn’t me. I only promised to tear the face off whoever had the pinnacle of firepower three times, I swear.
The hike through the foothills was quiet, the lack of any living creatures bar the other contestants left an eeriness across the trek. My mind went back to Phobos, where the only sounds were the crackling of fires burning in the confines of the space base, and the slow shuffling of zombiemen following the patrols of their new masters. It was a silence only heightened what sounds you could hear, and just over the sounds of the wind across unkempt weeds were the striking sounds of combat.
My eyes looked towards my destination. A grin widened from ears to ears. Speaking of Phobos, I’d hoped the structure I was looking at would give me an advantage in the fights to come; Those horrid battles in the demon ridden halls of that moon base were so familiar to me, they were almost a second home.
The last leg of my journey found me within the shadow of a small hill, where he could pull out one of these MREs in peace. I pulled one out of the bag and a bottle of water to get enough nutrients in me to get through the day.
Which is why it was such a massive disappoint when I saw what I had grabbed.
“MRE 37 14: Creamy Spinach Fettuccine. Seriously, the vegetarian option?” I said aloud, looking back over the brown bag as if it would suddenly change to something with meat in it. “Do I look like a vegetarian to anyone? I need protein to keep up this muscle mass, the fucking…” I grumbled, tore the bag open with my teeth, and began preparing the meal. I wasn’t going to not eat it. I would only have to look forward to finding someone to put my aggression on when I was done eating this slop.
Numbness. Everythingness. A collision of both mesmerized his mind.
Gildarts could no longer feel or sense what his silver arm and prosthetic leg were touching. As he glanced down, the sheen of sparkling gray seemed to melt away into nothingness; while his leg which once upheld his stance melted into dust leavingg emptiness in its wake. Nothing now filled the place where his fake appendages had hung on display. Somehow, it had been a natural sensation one bearing the savage honesty of nature. He understood the scene with a feeling. Sand had been brushed to crumbs by merely the softness of wind.
Gildarts soon collapsed, only able to balance on one leg for so long.
Now he lay on the ground, the once-respected powerhouse, now utterly helpless. Humbled by the ocean of emotion splashing within him, leaving little pits of barren desolation scattered across his motionless body. Loss. He felt its resurgence once again, his vision showed bits and pieces of himself scattering into the empty landscape in the form of black dots melding into the coarse ground. But, the enlightened mage knew those sprinkles weren’t just pieces of himself. He had already lost those literal appendages long ago. Within the failure of fire from the dragon he’d once sought to destroy. In turn it had instead slayed him.
The scars on his chest were now bursting out of the bandages that lined his torso, twisting and turning as though being squeezed by some unknown might or inner turmoil. Vicious snakes crawling under the fabric that was his skin slithered along the lines of flesh and sinew.
“GAHH!” Gildarts wreathed in agony and grasped his chest, clenching his heart and forcing it to stay inside his rib cage. Torture prickled the mage’s spine as the wriggling sensations sinisterly tickled his muscles. He felt a ripple of cracking bone within each little joint that remained. The pits, the holes he’d imagined in his flesh were now gaping with an unanswered black question. He couldn’t imagine the answer. That was somehow the point.
The man disassociated from his body. In spirit, he now gazed down at his form which lay useless on the ground of beige nothingness. Prone for vultures to gouge out his eyes. Nature’s carcass. He, Gildarts, appeared so pathetic his separated spirit and body were unified by despair. Both for being the weak, useless creature on the ground, but also burdened as the one standing above to witness the pitiful view of himself.
Nude in defeat.
This sense of death being his deliverance was a humbling reunion with reality. His eyes opened anew. The world was glittering, he was again on the ground. No longer did his body wreathe.
This stasis did not last.
There was rumbling in the earth, chaos coalescing. He sensed it from the singular hand that was propping his torso up. The earth began to shake. Viciously, unyieldingly sheer power overtook his body. A stampede of death, a surge of god’s wrath. Power he once was used to. Yet here, he lay as an infant, unable to move, unable to bear the incoming destruction. Rock crumpling and the edge of a newly-formed cliff began to race at him, breaking away all in its path. Soon he would be scattered in the rubble, his flesh would merely add colorful chunks to the rocky debris. His grand legend... A forgotten whisper.
Gildarts' body twisted, paralleling the reality churning around him and he found himself searching for anything he could to escape. Crawling without an arm and leg was near impossible, so he had to think, manage, and extend his arm out to a puny branch that had appeared. He grasped it, reaching out to his salvation. Only to be met with translucent slime squishing inside his palm and slick goo webbing between his fingers. Gildarts recoiled, his body was now vibrating with the quaking force. Rocks toppled above him. The cliff’s crumbling edge sprinted toward him.
The bringer of this fear was invisible, yet the sound still shook him. The echoes of his fear called him back and snatched him. Encompassed in a free fall, he soon toppled like the rest of the rocks breaking apart along the disintegrating cliff. Crashing, bouncing, and bleeding he was delivered to the bottom of the pile of freshly chiseled boulder. His blugeoned flesh disregarded just like any other crumb of sand blowing in the wind.
But amid the carnage and destruction, he held onto the sensation of weightlessness. He felt no pain. He had even left behind the binding feeling of sorrow with his fall. Instead, he was left with a sense of nothingness. Haunting his last moment where he was only a brushstroke of the wind. The emptiness left him craving any familiar sensation, welcoming back even the most agonizing torture.
He was the air he released with his final exhale. Invisible, weightless, without touch. He could no longer feel himself, the feeling of nothing had grown from his empty sockets of appendages and hollowed inward.
Numbness had become everything he couldn't feel.
Yet, when Gildarts raised his head. His silver leg and arm remained intact. There had been no cliff that had submerged him in immediate destruction. It had been just him alone with his thoughts in this vast empty bowl.
Ellie sprinted through the trees, duffel bag slung over her back, dodging thick trunks as she went. Part of her thought she should keep quiet, scout slowly and skulk her way through the dense underbrush, but that part of her was boring. She was in a death tournament – it was time to live a little! She weaved through the stoic members of the forest, the sunlight of early morning sprinkling the forest floor with spots of light passing through gaps in the canopy high above. The deserted island was beautiful and peaceful, dominated by nature, without a single human or otherwise sapient race structure to mar the view.
She did find it odd that she heard no birds singing, nor rabbits or deer scattering at her exuberant dash through the trees. Was the island devoid of life entirely except for those, like her, dumped here to battle it out in mortal combat?
It didn’t matter. Her focus was on the here and now, letting the serenity of the scene around her in an impossibly mad situation sink in. The anticipation of a fight had actually grown in her, stoked like a small ember landing in dry twigs and branches. Initially, having had her Elorium Gauntlet taken from her before being deposited on the island, she doubted her ability to fight. She often relied on the device, teleporting around opponents, messing with the flow of time, to disorient or otherwise deal with them. Without it, how would she fare?
That had all changed when she unzipped her duffel bag and found her assigned item weighing it down so heavily that it would likely tear the material. The good employees of Syntech had seen to it that she received some sort of futuristic, powered armour suit. It was nothing Ellie had ever seen, but its bulky design and weighty components belied the speed with which she moved while wearing it. Ellie had played with powered suits in her laboratory in the past, but decided she preferred being exposed to the elements.
But this... maybe she would have to re-evaluate that position after this tournament. Well, if she won, or if her Checkpoint system in the Elorium Gauntlet functioned as she hoped it would. In any case, she was going to absorb every fun-filled moment in this amazing feat of design and technology. Soon her exuberant run through the forest would come to an end, whether she reached its end or discovered her first opponent. She wasn’t sure which she was more excited for. Exploring the island was a game in itself.
Ellie threw her head back and laughed like a child. Now this was what it was like to feel alive.
“Just.. before anything else.. that announcement not long ago said there was gonna be some big event happening pretty soon, right? And here, as well.” Cho began, swallowing back a few fearful words, “D’you think it’s worth sticking about to watch? Get some ‘intel’, I guess?”
“That might be a good idea, actually, however I’m not sure if we’d be forced to deal with the stragglers. There could be a lot of them. It’s a risk, let’s see what happens in the meantime. Anyway, you were telling me about yourself. Victor has elected to keep your involvement with our fine Empire rather.. under wraps.”
“I guess he’d planned to introduce me to everyone at the feast.. but that got interrupted so, here we are.” Cho smirked a little, scratching the back of his head as he spoke, “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you; this whole thing has me.. on edge. I’m not saying I’m gonna turn and run at the first sign of danger or anything, but this is all stressing me the fuck out.”
“It’s quite fine, I understand. You’ve a friend on side now, fear is fine, but let’s just focus on moving to a place that’s going to remain a little quieter for the time being. Now, come on, I’m intrigued by the Emperor’s new apprentice.”
Cho nodded a few times, he took a long and deep breath before speaking again, “I dunno whether he’s told you anything or not, but I.. arrived here a couple days ago. I guess Victor took an interest because I’m an Earthbender.” Cho paused a moment as the High Priest glanced over to him, head cocked slightly to the side, “Uh, this is weird. None of you have heard of bending? Is it not a thing here..? Either way.. bending is the ability to control an element. I can control the element of earth, but it’s kinda limited here for some reason. Before, I could chuck boulders around like it was nothing, here I can hardly do that.”
“Interesting. What of the other elements? Can you control others?”
“Uh no. I’m kinda interested to try though, since I arrived here, I’ve managed to bend lava a few times which isn’t something I was able to do before waking up in the snow. Either way, there’s Air, Water and Fire benders back home.” Cho garbled his explanation, he was definitely more at ease walking with Sigmund, but the feeling of sheer dread was unshakable. As they walked, he took stock of each corner, each window, every intersection and new street; each one caused his heart to beat up in his throat again. Sigmund, on the other hand, seemed oddly at ease. Even that put the youth on edge. He sighed, heavily and continued to explain, trailing the High Priest by a fair way, “There’s one person who can control all four, though; the Avatar. The current one, back home, managed to open up the gates to the Spirit World. It’s pretty mad.”
“And what is the Avatar’s role? It seems like they’d have an important role if they’re the only person who can- -“
“Shouldn’t we wait on the pleasantries until we get out of this shitty death game? I get you wanna know about me and that, but..” Cho interrupted and trailed off. Questioning his apparent superior was probably a bad idea. He grimaced and rubbed at his temple, his head still aching; a dull intermittent throb emanating from within the base of his skull, only adding to the consistent nausea.
“We’ve been here for around six or so hours now. Have you stopped to take a small break? A drink or anything?”
Cho sighed again and shook his head.
“Come. You should take a break. You’re pale. You need to eat and drink before we continue. You’re no good to anyone if you pass out from exhaustion. Dehydration can play tricks on the mind.”
Cho peered over at the High Priest and nodded slowly, “Maybe you’re right. Sorry, I don’t wanna be a hindrance or anything.”
“Don’t worry. It’s as much my job to keep you alive as it is yours to keep me from danger as well. We need you in top form if we’re gonna to make it to the end of this.” Sigmund gestured to a building just off of the road, the door to which sat ajar. The pair of Babylonians entered the building and closed the door behind them and took up position beside a dusty window. Cho set his duffel bag down in front of him and produced a bottle of water and one of the MREs. He tucked in with a grimace, chewing the rubbery cube of whatever it was inside of the pouch, until it turned it to cotton wool in his mouth. His nose turned up, he took a long swig from the bottle of water and forced himself to swallow the food.
“Whatever this is, it sucks. Actually disgusting.”
Face to Face
#21 Frieza & #28 Deadpool vs #Not-Thirteen Toga
While her thoughts may have been filled with murder, to the outside world Toga likely looked like little more than your stereotypical piece of jail bait ever-present in certain cultures’ digital media. It was quite possible that the schoolgirl demeanor probably would have thrown a variety of people off guard. Hell, she’d likely be at an advantage if she ran into most of the people on the island (murder mice machines aside).
Unfortunately, this was not one of those moments.
“Well lookie here.”
Toga scowled at the sound, but she quickly pasted on a shit-eating teenage smile and turned to face the voice. Her expression almost slipped at the appearance of the man, but aside from a momentary twitch, she withheld the innocent smile as she scan the latex-bound man. “Hiya,” she spoke politely. “I’m Toga Himiko, and I think I’m lost. Would you like to be my friend.”
Deadpool physically recoiled at the question. “I’m not going to prison today, Sailor Moon. The last one smelled with seawater all the time and had unstable management.”
The teenage girl fought to maintain the façade as she held her hands out to her sides. “Please, Mister, I’m just trying to find my way home.”
“Nope.” Deadpool shook his head. “Nope nope nope nope nope --- TAG! I’m not angering the loli fanbase today.”
As Toga gentle reached toward her concealed weapon, she heard a new voice behind her. A voice that spoke with none of the madman’s frivolity. “He’s an idiot.” The slightly androgynous voice was cold as ice, and the girl knew at once that she had stumbled into something awful. “But he serves a nice purpose.”
Toga, twisting to face her other assailant, pulled the Power Pole free from its hiding spot, and the weapon sprung in both directions.
One end of the pole slammed into Deadpool’s crotch. “She has the magic pole that gets bigger?” He squeaked. “We’re all going to wind up on a list for this.”
The other end cracked Frieza in the jaw but not before the alien warlord had ignited and tossed the object in his hand. At first, Toga had barely noticed the object, but when she stepped forward to press what she thought was her advantage over the menacing alien fighter, the girl heard the distinct sizzle of a light fuse.
“…F”
Words were lost as the dynamite exploded, throwing Toga Himiko sideways into a thick glade of trees.
“What are you waiting for?” Frieza shouted as he touched a pair of fingers to his face and growled at the blood that stained them. “Go kill her.”
But Deadpool was still – overdramatic as it seemed – coddling his impacted manhood.
28 Contestants Remain
Toga will fracture her elbow and acquire some nasty burns and bruises by the time she lands (all in all, one Major Injury)
Deadpool will have the not-fun type of aching in his loins (Story Injury)
Frieza has a scrap on his face (Story Injury)
Frieza has used one stick of Dynamite
Frieza, Deadpool, and Toga are on cooldown for 8 hours OOC or until they move from their square
