Day 1

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Victor Wolfe

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“No!” Victor proclaimed with a surprisingly serious tone as he turned to face his fiery companion,

“Heck no, as the mouse would say!” He said with a light stomp of his foot a sigh as he paced around, attempting to craft the words that would dispel the myth from the young maiden’s mind.

“I am not a good person in any sense of the word so stop thinking that! I can’t afford to be a good person. My role doesn’t allow it.”

“Why would your “role” not allow you to be a good person?” Kayleigh raised an eyebrow, not sure what to make of the sudden outburst.

“I am the second, the vice-captain, that’s all I have ever been and I know how to do it well. I can make my master’s enemies tremble in terror, I can keep the more ambitious of our group in line. I am the one who when my master does something that leads to us all potentially risking death, takes the fall.” Victor sighed as he fell backwards leaning against a rock as he watched the horizon whilst he turned inwards.

“I need to be the guy that when the bigger dude is being too nice, or too egotistical, or starts to think of himself as untouchable, will remove the threats they can’t even see, or die trying. I need to be brutal, violent and selfish because they make me a talent that is unparalleled at what I do.”

“Surely it can’t be that fucking bad?” Kayleigh shot back as Victor laughed.

“Oh, it wasn’t until I stopped. I let myself care, I let my guard down, made friends, Erik, Shay, Agnes and even that brat of a ninja. And then when I actually thought I could maybe ease off on being what I thought I had to be.” Victor laughed madly.

“We got attacked, and whilst I was being some “good guy” helping civilians evacuate, one of my friends died, and my reason, my very reason for being in that world got sent to a hell dimension to burn for an eternity. I got to find out that most of the civilians I had helped save ended up eaten or violated by bandits, sometimes both! And all because I could not do my job, leave some civilians to die, and shank the life out of the robot mouse!” Turning away from the brunette, Victor wiped away a drop of moisture from his eyes.

“Every day I wake, I am reminded that because of the one time I tried to play the hero, I got someone I care about killed, and now I have to face their kid, and someone who put so much faith in me through immeasurable torment. So please when you are talking about curses…”

Victor turned with a forced smile “Please at least try to keep it entertaining if I can deal with that surely we can use this time to perfect a stand-up routine!” Victor cackled, causing his companion to throw a fist at him in a blaze of anger.

“I thought you were serious!” She shouted

“Oh more than you know my burning princess, more than you know, just don’t let the failure of fear stop you from going all out, otherwise you will die here.”
 

Karl Jak

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#39 Kefka vs #05 Malefactor-Gilgamesh

Kefka was sitting around a fire trying to mind his own business and enjoy a fine meal of flame-broiled dinosaur when the forest genuinely exploded toward him.

The Mad King couldn’t yelp due to the chunk of delicious meat in his mouth, so he instead tried to roll backwards and get himself upright and away from the very large pieces of tree fucking soaring into his camp.

He saw a tree trunk crush the raptor he had brought back to his camp, but there was no time to mourn poor Cain. The prototype of the Magitek Knights fell back to the relative safety of some cover as a vaguely human scream tore through his half-assed campsite. Hand going into his pocket, he retrieved the little vial he had been gifted alongside the cache of supplies.

“I hope whatever this is works,” he mumbled as he popped the corked and dumped out the little seeds. Before Kekfa could see the fruits of his labor, the tree behind him was cleaved in half with a hissing, crackling laser sword, and a sleek, almost slimy-looking monster was tearing apart the pieces and reaching for his neck. “No, no, not today!” The Mad King remarked.

Unfortunately, the Mad King had stumbled into the King of Kings.

And all other kings must bow.

Malefactor-Gilgamesh got a fistful of Kefka’s clothes before the sprier of the two warriors could slink away. Airborne before he knew what was going on, the Magitek Knight crashed hard against a rock. How was a god to be reduced to this?

Twisting away from a stone that bore some of his blood, Kefka eyed the nearby stream. He could make it. Once he had some time to collect himself, he would return and smite this infernal monster.

But even as he tried to scamper away, a hand grabbed his ankle. As Kefka was lifted off the ground, a second hand grabbed his other ankle, and the Mad King found himself struggling to not lose his duffel bag as he met the soulless, alien eyes of his attacker. “Well you’re ugly. If you’re talking to me last week, I would have ground you out of reality.”

Malefactor-Gilgamesh flashed an insidious, toothy smile at Kefka before wrenching on the small man’s legs like they were a wishbone. One of the legs left its intended socket with a distinct pop, and Kefka summoned every ounce of strength in his once-divine body to not yell out.

Before the Malefactor could have its way with its prey, a beam of ki slammed into its chest. Then there was a second. A third. A fourth finally caught the confused monster in the knee, prompting him to lose his balance and collapse.

Kefka smacked into the ground, but before he could gauge the situation, he felt himself being dragged toward the river. His vision was blurry, but it seemed that some sort of green, midget alien was rescuing him.

“I’ll take it,” the Mad King mumbled as he lost consciousness.

With the little man slinking away with the even smaller creature, Malefactor-Gilgamesh found himself rising from the floor and tapping at the spot where the other Saibaman had blasted him. “You dare attempt to defile perfection?” The pissant monster fired another blast. “MONGREL!”

The Malefactor swung out his right hand, and as he did, the flesh of the symbiotic suit peeled away to reveal the flamethrower, which light up with a crackling hiss that doused the pour tiny monster in a fatal blast of fire.

Not content to watch the creature burn to death, Malefactor-Gilgamesh scooped up the child-sized alien and proceeded to tear off and devour its limbs as it writhed in unbridled agony. When the last glimpse of life departed the mongrel’s carcass, the King of Kings unhinged his large, alien jaw and bite the head off the creature’s body.

28 Contestants Remain


Malefactor-Gilgamesh absorbed some punishment. If Gilgamesh were conscious, he’d probably have a limp… (Minor Injury)
Kefka has a dislocated left femur (Major Injury)

Kefka has lost one of his Saibamen (how sad)

Gilgamesh lost the saving throw, so the Malefactor waives the cooldown.

Kefka on cooldown (protected from another F2F) for 8 hours or unless they move from their present square. This protection can also be waived by letting me know via PMs.
 
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Nico Cinder

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I wake up gasping for air, sweat trickling its way down the side of my pretty little face. Daylight burns my bloodshot eyes in a manner in which I am all too accustomed. How long has it been? An hour? A day? Fuck if I know. Waking up dazed and confused and sober at the same time is unacceptable, haven't had to torture myself like this in some time. Breaths come short and ragged for a moment until I get things under control, a side-effect of these stupid fucking nightmares. They've been taking control of my sleep since The Deal, though I suppose I was a bit of an insomniac before selling my soul to The Devil. Still, those sleepless nights were nothing like this shit. I begin my count down backwards from 12, saying the numbers slowly and out loud to myself as I try not to think about what I saw when I closed my eyes. Only when my breathing evens out do I notice that, somehow in the span of a nap, I have become half buried in a pile of pecans. With a confused groan I roll over to my hands and knees, out from underneath the tree's shade and slightly-too-friendly pecans. Woke up feeling like those fuckers were trying to hug me to death. I stayed like that for a good minute, baking in the sun. My brain hurts, my brain hurts, my brain hurts. Alcoholics Anonymous sounded like both the best and worst idea right now.

"Ah, fuck."

I spot a shiny red bead on a blade of grass underneath my balled up hands. I guess I hadn't really been paying attention to how tightly wound my body was. There was a toddler's dirtcake of grass and squished bugs in each of my hands, and it would appear that I just frosted each of them with some "sad rock and roll boy" brand blood, cream filled donut injection style...Er, if my hand was the donut. And the blood the cream? And my nails the-

I scramble to my feet in a panic and immediately begin pacing. That metaphor was too complicated, made my head hurt more. My eyes dart around, looking shifty just for the sake of looking shifty. I stare at my dirtied hands, several pinprick holes crying blood from where I dug my nails into my palms. With a defeated sigh I walk the short distance to the shore of the lake. The water was impossibly clear, churning up a sparkling froth where those radical waterfalls fed into the serenity of the lake. 'Least it wasn't stagnant, muddy, brown. Most of the rivers and even the ocean waters back home were an unfortunate shade of murky tan. Every time I come across nature like this, it leaves me breathless - the good bong-ripping kind, but cleaner.

Infinity Falls and Infinity Lake, the map said. Fitting, probably. There was a perfect reflection of myself in the still water by the shore, far enough away from the rushing mists of the falls. I was kinda mesmerized, partly because I'm sexy as shit, partly because I barely recognized the person looking back at me. My eyes were the same color of burnt brown honey they've always been, my hair parted and waved in just the wrong way, as usual. I had somehow managed to fucking lose an eyebrow stud. One of those fucking pecans must have stolen it. But even more than nuts and bolts, something was off. Hell, everything was off. My headcase was cracked, memories leaking out of me ad nauseam. S'becoming increasingly difficult to remember details about myself before I shook the devil's hand. Tearing myself away from my not-so-dashing good looks, I break the mirror -- My hands plunge through my reflection.

Nothing happens at first, just washing my hands the way any sinner should. But y'know how like, you cut your hand cooking or somethin', and you run it over some water in the sink or what have you? And like, sure the water trailing down your hands is red for a moment, but eventually it clears up and appears to slow the bleeding a bit? Right-o, so imagine my fucking face, when my hands start bleeding more. The most cliche number possible of blood tendrils coil and twist through Infinity Lake from my nail wounds. They twine and braid, thicker than water, coalescing into a moshpit vortex pool of blood.

My ears begin to fill with what at first I thought was buzzing radio static, but I quickly recognize as an obscene amount of guitars screaming at me. The generic voices of the damned that usually follow these sorts of things come as usual, but they're awfully louder than normal, agitated, agonized. Their sound is hypnotic, words ringing in my ears in languages that have probably been dead for a very, very long time. I was entranced, watching as from the blood pool rose the jagged black neck of an old style six string guitar. The body of the instrument was a dripping crimson the same shade of a human's insides. Strands of pink and different shades of red pulsed in a chaotic, formless rhythm. The black strings shone with a dark, iridescent luster.

"TAKE IT

TAKE THE SOUL

TAKE IT"

Fucking shit this is cheesy, I didn't think it'd actually be like this. My body, unsurprisingly in an occult situation like this, moves on its own. I stumble gracefully into the ankle deep water to fall into whatever He has planned for me. When my fingers grasp the neck of the guitar, I almost jump back into the muck, but retain my composure as one in my situation does; there was a bloody, feminine hand right below my own. Before I can process it, the hand lets go of the instrument to skewer my right hand with her nails, drawing a substantial amount of blood. The pain is not as immense as one might think or legends might imply, but it surely wasn't pleasant. The hand, seemingly fed her fill of me, sinks slowly back into the blood portal. Her fingers waggle at me flirtatiously right before she sinks beneath the pool. And just as she's gone, so is the fanfare, the music, the glowing and swirling portal. Just me and a freaky ass fucking guitar. Cheeky fuckin' demons. Flighty broads. On the tail end of the wind with the receding glow and fading noise, I hear a different, very distinguishable voice. It was a powerful command-

No, scratch that. It was simply a polite request.


"SPREAD HELL"
 

Aku

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"BWAHAHAHAHA! FOOLS! NO ONE CAN STOP MY GREATNESS!" the demon announces in a victory stance while raising his arms high and his ego upscaling from his success.

A happy smile remains on his face after chuckling for twenty seconds.

Attempting to find supplies was a waste of time since there is nothing devastating or aide Aku to the top spot for the game. How exhilarating the fight was, the shogun of sorrow forgets about the powerful Easter Egg that Karl Jak announced earlier. He limps quickly down the hall to take the stairs to chase after his prey. The black demon descends the stairs, ready for any more surprises to unfold. Maybe when he reaches outside, those mortals will still be scrambling to leave here soon as cowards.

If that's the case, Aku can quickly finish off his enemies on the first day along living on this island. He exits the apartment's entrance; the supernatural godlike demon charges his laser beams within his eyeballs. There was nobody to meet this hideous monstrosity of a contestant.

What a shame, no one to be finished off so everyone at home can he witness how much of a tyrant Aku can be.

His eyes return average, and two tiny black dot pupils appear in the center of the clean white eyeballs. The shogun of sorrow pauses for a minute, and a thought crosses over his twisted mind.

"Oh no… MY PRIZE!" Aku booms in his voice that fills with shock.

Nervousness appears all over the dark master's horrific face, rushing to see where his prize located. He limps quickly across the street with a little pain present in his leg fractured, earlier. Aku can tell he was getting closer to where it landed, from all the destruction near the wrecked gym. He bursts through the gym's entrance, rushing through the rumble and scattered weight equipment lying on the floor. The demon dashes through another room, jumping over the damaged machines to induce cardio.

"Swimming Pool," the sign says as Aku darts past the broken glass door, hastily.

He Enters the room; it is a nasty sight to behold with all the concrete chunks and glass surrounding, Aku. He limps across the swimming area, quickly and slides to a stop at the pool's edge. The crime scene tells him as he observes his circumambient, the package landed in this swimming pool. He looks downward at the clean blue chlorinated water's surface, and nothing is underwater.

"No… no… NOOOOOO!"

The demon screams in distress that his ticket to help achieve his victory is gone.

Despair fills his naturally blackened face as he simmers underneath his skin. He kneels on the ground in defeat and raises his head, looking at the exposed sky peeking through the ceiling's hole.

"I WAS TOO LATE!"

His words echo throughout the city's streets, just how powerful his voice can be at moments.

Defeat and victory are the only things Aku received from this cursed metropolis.
 

Pecan

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Well, that was fucking lame. Not only had that lovely little Easter Egg slipped through my grubby little dickbeaters, but I had lost my leg too. There was no light down in the elevator’s gut, save for the residual embers from Greenlip’s indigestion. Trying to move proved to be a bad fuckin’ idea. To be honest with you, at the point in time I sincerely wished that my original hypothesis was correct. But, in agonizing defiance my leg was still painfully attached to my body. Damn thing felt like a warm sack of pudding with crushed up marbles in it, and oh boy did it hurt. Pretty sure I blacked out for a few moments, from the sheer agony of it all. To put it lightly, poor ol’ Pecan was in a rough way. And worst of all. Worst of fuckin’ all. Getting styled on by a fucking mouse, was bad. Being dropped down an elevator shaft, was less than ideal. But, the worst of it all? Brother, all my boom-booms were gone. It truly was a tragedy.

I cannot assist you while this collar inhibits my capabilities. You will die from exsanguination shortly if medical assistance is not provided.

I laughed. A nice and good belly laugh that sharply at the piece of rebar in my leg rudely reminded me that I had gone from a loveable murderer to a shish kebab.

I’m sorry Pecan, I cannot do anything for the pain either.

Being careful to not tweak my leg I reached into my back pocket. It was a gross feeling, blood had traveled down my leg and soaked into my jeans, giving everything a gnarly tacky feeling. But I still found what I was looking for. Soaked in blood, but still stiff and fresh, a single fat stogie. I had been saving that bad boy for special occasions, and baby this was a special occasion. Using one of Greenlip’s dying embers I lit the fat bastard and took a deep puff. It was no Revenant’s Breath, but damn if it didn’t hit the spot.

Aren’t you going to do something? I can instruct you on how to make a tourniquet.

I let my head loll back and held the cigar in my lips, “What do you fuckin’ care?”

It is my duty to provide medical assistance to all sentient life, even lives as vile as yours.

“Awh, I love you too, honey.”

You’re going to die if you don’t do something.

Another puff and for a moment I thought I’d lose consciousness again, but another spike of pain sobered me up quick. I chuckled and answered HARMONY, “Y’know, I almost want to bleed out so you can get your panties in a bunch. I mean, what kind of whacked-fucked programming is that? Saving me is going to objectively make the world a worse place, so why the hell would you bother?”

It is my duty.

“Alright,” I said aloud, “Have it your way, I’d have been content to wallow in the afterglow, but nooooo you had to get me to save myself. Well, baby any bloodshed after this is your fault.”

Now, Ol’ Pecan is many things, but he ain’t a liar. Well, okay, he is a filthy fucking liar, but I’m being truthful when I say this was probably one of the most painful fuckin’ experiences in my life. Do you have any idea what it feels like to get stabbed? Go into your bathroom and turn the shower on, not like you normally would though. No, make sure that bitch is ice- fuckin’ cold, freezing Now strip naked. Don’t worry, I won’t peek, I may be a murderer, but I’m not a pervert. Then, quick, before you can even think, jump in that ice-cold shower. That sudden shock that hits you? See, how it rips the breath right from your lungs? Your brain stops working, all it can think is - Get me the fuuuuuck out of here. That sudden shock, that horrible sensation, that’s what being stabbed is like. Your whole body locks up. But you clench your teeth and stay in that shower and you start to acclimate. Yeah, it sucks, but it ain’t so bad now. You can breath. Hell, you can think.

This was like that, but every time I tried to move I was dumped back into that icebath. There was no chance to acclimate. I clenched my teeth hard enough to bite off the end of my smoke, but I forced myself to pry my leg free. A slick slurping sound bounced off the walls of the elevator shaft as I un-kebabed myself. I had just removed the world’s biggest and slipperiest splinter. Air licked at the inside of the wound, chilling the ravaged flesh inside the meat of my leg. Man, was this what I had been doing to people? Because, if so, that was pretty fuckin’ tight.
 

Sigmund Vrell

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The pair had only been walking for a short while, having left the city to return to the cover of the wilderness, and it was immediately apparent to Sigmund that his new partner wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. Cho’s eyes darted from tree to tree, searching for the enemy that could be hidden within the foliage but finding nothing. While the cultist could respect vigilance, the youth looked as though his heart might give out at any moment.

“Shall we take a moment to rest?” The high priest offered, glancing at his companion with a concerned expression. The earthbender took one last nervous glance around before silently nodding. “Come, according to the map a waterfront is close by. It should cover our flanks.”

The pair made their way to the shore, settling down for the first time in a short while. They sat in silence for a long moment, neither quite certain how to break it. Sigmund considered a number of ways to start the conversation, but whenever he went to open his mouth he saw the wide-eyed expression on Cho’s face and reconsidered. Truth be told, relating to his fear and anxiety was rather difficult for the mindbreaker. It didn’t help that said fear and anxiety seemed to mount when the cultist didn't reciprocate.

“You're far less bloodthirsty than I imagined.” The high priest finally said, glancing over at the earthbender. “I had expected you to be more… well, like Victor.”

“Thanks?” Cho said, a little uncertain as he turned to face his superior. “You’re pretty not-like-Victor yourself. You don't really seem too upset about this whole thing though.”

Sigmund simply shrugged. “What’s there to be upset about? Everyone agreed to participate and if we die, we die. We’ll all come back from it, one way or another.”

“What, you're not scared of someone jumping out of the bushes and killing you?” The earthbender asked, confused and… afraid? Perhaps uneasy was more accurate.

“Don't misunderstand me, that would certainly be undesirable and vigilance is important.” The cultist said, leaning back into the plush grass. “But fearing an attack will do little except cause unnecessary mistakes.”

“It's hard to just not worry about something though.” Cho replied.

“I know, that's what makes fear such a powerful tool.” Sigmund said, taking a moment to admire his weapon once more. “I trained for years to learn to put my thoughts over my feelings. Under Victor’s tutelage, you may just master it a little quicker though.”

The earthbender mumbled an agreement, deep in thought.

“Anyways, how are you feeling?” The psion asked, reaching into his bag for his water bottle, taking a quick swig. “Do you think you can keep going?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The young bender replied, taking a deep breath as he got to his feet. The priest followed suit and the two continued their trek across the island. Sigmund was eager to run into another competitor but, for Cho’s sake, he hoped they didn't.
 

Roy Mustang

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Mustang sat in the shadows. His military coat was draped loose on his shoulders, blackened and torn from the demon's fire. Roy's similarly scorched undershirt was spread out in front of him, wrinkled and stained in just one day. Roy judiciously cut the cleanest parts of the undershirt into strips of cloth with the kitchen knife he had grabbed during the fight with Aku. That... thing... with its too wide grin and bizarre teeth. It had boasted a variety of strange powers, not the least of which a noticeable propensity to create fire, even with the collars Mustang had assumed were in place to level the playing field. Not for the first time today, Mustang wondered why he had been signed up for this event. He suspected from the beginning that someone in the senior staff had simply wanted to drag him through mud, but he had assumed the intent had been to discredit his reputation not just to make him seem weak. It might actually end up doing him some good in the long run, pacifying those elements that felt he was too dangerous to be given any more authority than he already had. Clearly, he couldn't be that much of a threat after today’s events.

That was a puzzle for later down the road, however. For the moment he needed to focus on any slime chance at survival. Roy winced as he wrapped the less sterile than he wished straps of cloth around his scalded flesh. He had gotten away lucky, considering how close he had been to the source, but there were a few blisters that hadn't burst even after the landing, much of his chest was quite reddened and tender. The last thing he wanted right now was to cripple himself further by tearing them as they were travelling. The wrap was less than ideal, but he knew better than to leave the burns exposed to the elements.

A whirring sound drew his attention towards Ashe-0. The Amazonian war machine was keeping watch while Mustang dealt with his injuries. Her inhuman physique certainly boasted advantages, the spider mine she had taken to the face would undoubtedly have been enough to put Mustang out of commission, but she still seemed to show his injuries more difference. Perhaps she simply wasn't voicing her concerns, he wondered. She didn't seem keen to offer more information than he requested of her, but had so far proven a staunch ally through multiple conflicts. Even her cybernetics were being pushed to their limits though. At the moment, she was manipulating her partially damaged limb while she kept watch. He could hear the servos straining, as the mechanical muscles struggled to operate in their shrapnel-riddled state. It didn’t sound like she could rely on that arm in a pinch, to say nothing of the other limb that was gone completely.

They were going about this wrong, Mustang decided with a sigh. Chasing desperate hopes and dangerous rumors. In their need, they had been running themselves ragged attempting to vie with forces that outmatched them. At their current rate, he quite doubted that either of them would last through the next day. They needed a new approach, to come at the problem from the place where they held the advantage. Ashe-0 was a military construct, she would be familiar enough with tactics that he wouldn't have to worry about miscommunicated orders.

Mustang rolled his shoulders, gritting his teeth as scorched flesh pulled taunt from the motion. He got to his feet slowly, putting his uniform back on but leaving it open in the front to avoid irritating the wound further. He stowed away the remainder of his MRE and strolled over to Ashe-0.

"Alright, that's enough of a rest, It'll be dark soon. A good time to keep moving." The massive war machine turned to appraise him, singular eye unblinking and expressionless as ever.

"I had assumed we would continue to reserve our energy. You have an aim in mind?" She asked without the slightest hint of question in her voice. Mustang shrugged, allowing a hint of a grin.

"It's not really a destination, no. I think it's time that we do some fishing."
 

Arthur Morgan

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Beneath the copse of fir trees, Arthur leaned back on his palms, taking a good, long look at the sky. The clear blue of it was gradually deepening into a more hazy purple, folds of muddled clouds weaving through it like it were something smooth— like satin, or maybe silk. Whatever it looked like, Arthur thought it made a pretty picture.

Yet he felt… unsettled weren’t the right for it. He wasn’t sure what word could precisely describe the anxious feeling shivering between his shoulder blades, but it were almost like being watched. Like somebody’s eyes were fixed on the back of his head. This feeling only grew as time wore on, but Arthur couldn’t spot anything amiss in the open land around them, only the gentle swaying of grass and wildflowers. Hell, the birds hadn’t even stopped their singing. And yet...

This type of uncertainty weren’t anything new to Arthur. He’d felt the same kind of nervousness before, such as when a posse of lawmen was riding after him or whenever a pack of wolves started up a howl as they caught his trail. But this… it was a powerful feeling that overcame him. Dread fell over his shoulders, cinching in tight around his throat like a funeral shroud. He couldn’t even stand to look at Kopaka as the dread persisted, grew stronger; had to look out at the horizon and try to breathe in deep, quiet breaths to steady himself.

Hell. He’d take anything over this. Give him something to fight, something to shoot— the waiting, the skulking around… shit, he needed to do something.

It was with shaking fingers that Arthur brought his journal out of his pack, cracking it open to a new page. The pencil, too, trembled in his grip, but he soon tightened his fingers around it, forced his muscles to stop twitching at every brush of the wind, every call of some distant wild creature. He ignored the blood pounding in his head, narrowed his focus down to the point of lead pinched between his fingers.

Schrrrtcch schrrtch. The pencil moved across the page in slow, measured movements, tracing gentle strokes of graphite across the cream-colored paper. Arthur’s eyes flickered up, studying the field of grass spread around them in a thick carpet of green, then lowered back to the page. His patterning sped up, detailing dozens of wispy strands, straining to capture the stirring of the wind through the small green blades.

Soon that grew a little tiresome, though the repetitive movements had helped to calm his twitchy nerves considerably. Switching gears easily enough, Arthur moved on to the larger shapes occupying space in the world around him, diligently blocking out the bold trunks of trees, lightly erasing the outlines of the more distant conifers being partly swallowed up by the persistent fog. He even traced the outline of a far off ridge, drawing the lead across the page in a slow, winding line to capture the jagged behemoth made of stone jutting into the sky.

Settling back in his seat, Arthur’s attention trailed to his companion, who looked to be in some kind of meditative state, optics half-shuttered and staring into the fire. Without thinking much of it, he began to rough out the shape of Kopaka’s head, the strong jut of his shoulders, and the general blocky outline of the Toa’s seated form, his hunched posture and the seams and mechanical components that seemed to smoothly fuse every part of him together…

It was just as he’d begun to focus more on adding detail to Kopaka’s chest plating that Arthur happened to look up. Blue met blue as the former outlaw locked eyes with the bionicle.

Arthur’s pencil paused, the tiniest squeak of lead grinding against paper filling the silence between them.

“Er,” he blurted, intelligently. He felt caught out, like a drunk feller stumbling into his wife after stepping out to do ‘a few errands.’

But Kopaka didn’t seem upset like some folks would’ve been, merely curious. ‘Course, that might’ve been because Arthur hadn’t quite figured out how to decipher the bionicle’s expressions, but at least he wasn’t radiating angry crackles of frost over the ground. Instead, Kopaka’s inhuman face—which Arthur had spent a fair amount of time attempting to replicate on paper—tilted downward, focused on the journal in Arthur’s lap.

“What are you doing?” Kopaka queried. It was a simple question.

Still, the bionicle’s human companion wasn’t about to just let it be simple. Instead, the man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, head low as he tucked his journal a little closer to his brawny body.

“Ain’t nothing,” said Arthur with a slight cough, wondering if the heat on his face was from the midday sun or the burning embarrassment pulsing warmly through his skull. “Just a little something to pass the time, is all.”

The bionicle considered this, and for a beat Arthur thought that perhaps the mechanized knight would let the subject drop. Then, “May I see it?”

Arthur hesitated. His fingers, which had bracketed around the journal and dug hard into the leather cover, loosened their nervous grip, abruptly... hopeful? Finally, he relented, a quiet huff leaving him as he had to get up and shuffle his way over to be nearer to the Toa.

“Don’t get any of your slush on it, now,” warned Arthur, putting on a little more bluster to offset the discomfort rolling through him in waves. “I ain’t got another one.”

That earned a soft scoff from the Toa, who took the journal with a surprisingly delicate grip. Gaze narrowing to the open page, Kopaka’s optics scanned the idle sketchings of a bored, jittery cowboy with great interest. This left Arthur with not much else to do but stand there like a damn fool, stubbornly attempting to distract himself with the sight of a few sparrows twiddling about in the branches above them.

“This…” began Kopaka. Arthur’s eyes snapped to him at the utterance, but the Toa trailed off suddenly, having noticed another detail on the page that required equally intense scrutiny. His eyes blinked for a moment. “... you have drawn me.”

“Yeah. That a problem?” Arthur asked, gruff. He didn’t show folks his drawings often. It was more of a hobby to him, so unlike all the other things he’d had to do for the gang—hunting, fishing, foraging, enforcing—that were necessary for survival, that he often stressed that it was something he ought not to be doing. Like he was being selfish, forking over a few cents for a pencil when that money could be better spent putting food in people’s mouths.

And it was a bit ridiculous, pausing in a moment of calm on this actual death island… not to prepare or strategize, but to draw a simple picture of his partner.

He were honestly a bit miffed at himself for doing it, but he couldn’t show weakness now. Best to tough out the humiliation.

Kopaka was oblivious to—or perhaps electing to simply ignore—Arthur’s inner turmoil. He held the journal out for the human to take, who fairly snatched it back.

“You have a rare talent,” said the Toa gravely, watching as Arthur beat a hasty retreat to his side of the fire. “I am... honored... by your rendering of my likeness.”

“Uh-huh,” the ex-outlaw muttered back, taking a seat on the ground this time, closer to the fire. He busied himself with chucking a few stray fir needles into the flames, the sharpness of the plant’s smell dulled by a puff of smoke.
 

Nico Cinder

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"How the fuck am I supposed to carry all this shit?" I mutter.

But I find a way, as I always do. The metal of my rocket box presses into my back in an oddly comforting way, and I hold the guitar over my shoulder traveling bard style. This thing looked like it was made to be manhandled anyways: The neck of the guitar was scuffed and scraped wood, giving it a cut up look. The soundhole was an inky black void, seemingly endless in depth -- I'm not sticking my hand down that maw. Played perfectly fine though, sounds just like a normal acoustic guitar. Can't be normal though, not after all that shit He made me sit through to get it. I'm hesitant to play the damn thing, it's probably cursed to fuck all and back, but what would you say to a fish that wanted to go for a swim, know what I mean?

So I pull the guitar off my shoulder and start plucking at some strings. I'm a little limited from my usual grindy, thrashy, metal recourse because of the acoustic nature of my new blessing, so to hell with it, I'll take it easy. My fingers do the thing they've always done, and tiptapped along the strings. The riff is floaty, lilting, as if it was waltzed through the air of its own accord. I try to keep it lazy, but not long into my whole shtick a new sound entirely erupts from the guitar.

The instrument growls at me with a disgusting passion, as if those music notes were getting dragged through the dirt and throwing molotovs at the bourgeois. It spooks the shit out of my and I drop my flow for just a second. It doesn't take me long, however, to adapt to the sudden change in tone. I start ripping through power chords like an electronics store fire sale, feeling the heat of the sound build up with murderous intent. Then, as if on fucking cue, Pecan pokes his head out of a bush. I stop playing with an abrupt SCRITCH, and stare at him for a few seconds. He stares back for an uncomfortably long amount of time. The remains of a smoke dangle from his lips; quite honestly dude, I'm not sure how I didn't notice him before. I try not to think about the aggressive turn in music. Facing down a natural born killer in a blood sport? Sure, fuck it. Ally with him? Maybe, if I wasn't literally playing with literal fire. Pecan was about as unpredictable as all the men in my life, which probably explains why I'm currently contemplating befriending a guy like my man Pecan here.

"Huh. Shoulda known that gnarly noise would come outta' a stand up guy like you, Nico." He says with a bloodied grin. He stands up, sort of, and limps over. Sonofabitch.

"Yikes," I say, nudging my guitar at his fucked up little mangly leg. "Need some help with that?" Even if he was injured, I'm not sure I'd put it past Pecan to rip off his own busted up leg and shove it down an undesirable's throat. I have been known to be undesirable sometimes, so you can imagine my concern.

"Nah, Ol' Pecan was just waiting for his next bushwhack," Old Pecan says. I snort.

"Well good on ya, I guess. Idle hands are the devil's workshop. Or something."
 
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Frieza

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Frieza's tail twitched in agitation as Deadpool continued ignoring his threats, cradling his injured nads like a mother might her child. This was going nowhere. He gnashed his teeth together and seethed audibly--far from the first time since joining forced with this spandex-clad clown. While he did have some experience commanding clowns, at least the Ginyus, for all their eccentricities, got things done. This moron, on the other hand, he was beginning to suspect would only end up being useful as a meatshield.

Well, whatever. There were more important matters at hand. "We'll continue this conversation later," said Frieza, sharply turning on heel in what he assumed was the direction Toga had fled. "Come. She can't have gotten far."

Had he a more reliable companion, he would have suggested they split up to cover more ground. But he really couldn't trust this Deadpool fellow to not wander off or double-cross him at the first opportunity.
 

Solomon Grundy

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Startlingly, the jetpack remained loose on his back and unpowered as Okuyasu decided to walk to his next location. Disgruntled and in a poor mood due to his injured hand, he sat down at the edge of a small lake of water, fed from the mountain that dominated half the island. He'd struggled with his amputated fingers, decided to just rip open an MRE with his teeth. His reward was different packs of food cascading out onto the ground, the youth disinterestly shuffling them with his foot.

Ugh. This stuff looked gross, and like he needed to cook it. And he was probably in the worst place on the island to set up a fire, aside from all the icy bits. The youth bent down and grabbed what seemed like snacks paired with the main course, leaving the sad packages where they fell as he stalked off.

Chewing down the food, Okuasu stared for a long while at a series of spidery waterfalls feeding the pool and then down at his bandaged hand. This game had left a mark on him.....why not leave a mark on the island itself?

After a bit of maneuvering with the jetpack, several false starts, and a dip into the water, he finally posed beneath a truncated waterfall. The two streams now split above him, falling down on either side of 3 foot high words reading

"$¥ N I J I M U R A ¥$"

and he sat underneath them, legs crossed, The Hand menacing behind him. Waiting.
 

Cho

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Cho frowned as the pair continued their walk. He kept pace with the psion; his words intrigued the youth.

“So, what, you’ve managed to.. overcome fear?” Cho stumbled over his words, he was very aware of how cliche his question sounded.

Sigmund chuckled, “Well, I wouldn’t say it in such a cut and dry way. My training has allowed me to put my logical thinking to the forefront, rather than relying on my base instincts; fight or flight.”

“Damn. I mean, that’s pretty impressive, y’know?” Cho peered over to his partner, thinly veiled awe slowly creeping across his face, “I know it's probably too little too late, but that’s helpful. I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Out of curiosity, though, how.. how would you go about starting to.. y’know?”

“Now is the perfect time to begin, really, isn’t it?” Sigmund gestured widely to the expanse before them, “Try focussing on your frame of mind, to begin with. Your fear of the unknown, right now, is making you imagine the worst case scenario. If we are attacked or someone jumps us, consider the course of action you’ll take rather than the untold possibilities. Work on preparing to defend yourself rather than preparing to end up dead.”

Cho nodded a few times, falling into deep thought yet again. He continued to nod while considering the psion’s words. His pace changed considerably and he finally began to walk beside Sigmund, his posture matching his elevated sense of confidence as well. Sigmund glanced over at his companion and smirked wryly.

“That’s definitely a start,” Sigmund chortled, “I’m sure Victor will have some insight to share as well, once we’re out of here.”

“Probably. He’ll probably monologue about stabbing the source of my fear or something.” The bender grinned toothily, “Probably tell me something about how fear is below us and whatever.”

“Well, there is some sense to that. If you can get to and understand the crux of his speeches, there’s a lot of experience you can tap into.”

“I guess. Let’s.. try and get out of here alive, then, right?” Cho puffed his chest up for a moment, probably forcing a bit of confidence in himself.
 

Aku

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Aku retreats out of the city while a compass in hand, following the direction that he chose to become his wrongdoing path. He embarks into a forest filled with lush green vegetation, untouched in his name. Aku walks with a limp through the shrubs and passing wooden tall oak trees full of healthy leaves. The shade made by the series of trees helps his temperature die down from the afternoon's heat. In his mind, thoughts dance inside the head, wondering who his next foes will be to bring disrespect to his name.

If only if he can have his immortality back, this destructive godlike being thinks that this game would end within a day. Curse this collar that Karl Jak put around Aku's neck without his consent.

As traverses over this area's terrain, the sun slowly dips down to bring the evening to life.

Yes. The deathly night will come to existence upon his foes, some fear for the worst, and others relish the perfect time to end their opponents.

Two tugging sensations appear deep in his body that desires to perform currently. Drowsiness pulls the perfect entity of wickedness downwards for his energy to move. Hunger grumbles his stomach to digest with distinct churning sounds. A yawn escapes his mouth, opening wide full of the white clean unnaturally sharp teeth. His eyes begin to stay half-open while pushing shrubs and branches out of his way.

Birds sing happily above him in a harmonic fashion to make anyone happy.

A life that doesn't dread the presence of his greatness irritates him quickly. As the two birds grasp their talons on the perch, communicating between them along with a happy instinct. A nest made of wooden twigs sits on the same branch with the other winged living wildlife. Three hatchlings rest inside the safe nest that is their only protection, away from this cruel world. The two birds hopped along the wooden support toward their nest to comfort their babies.

Disgusting. Aku hates anything in his sight that's filled with peace and life, hogging his precious air. Annoyance and grumpiness fill his face with a full green lip frown.

ZWOOM!

A laser beam emits out from his eyes, aiming at the bird's nest above him. Before the creatures could instinctively react in fear, the once happily existing animals perish from this island along the branch too. After the chaos, a depressing silence settles in on the forest.

His unhappiness turns right back into happiness after the destruction he made.

"THIS IS WHAT LIFE WOULD BE IF I WOULD TAKE OVER YOUR PATHETIC PLANET! HEHEHEHEHE!" Aku chuckles in a threatening manner, putting a twisted smile on for the hidden cameras.

At this point, some of the audience should be in disgust with how Aku sees the way of life. Although, there might be some fans that think this is the way to store order and balance within society.

Order must be in place on this island for others to know their rightful place under his name.
 

Karl Jak

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#05 Gilgamesh vs #02 Okuyasu

Okuyasu and the Hand didn’t have to wait for long.

“You!” A terrible, sub-human voice bellowed as the stand user looked away from the Falls to see the giant, black-and-green mass fucking stampeding towards him.

“Oh, well this is shit,” Okuyasu muttered as he yanked the controls of the jetpack and took flight. His feet missed the head of the alien monster by inches as Malefactor-Gilgamesh crashed into the Hand and bull rushed the silent entity into the rockface.

The white eyes and fanged maw of the beast slithered backwards to reveal the bald visage of Gilgamesh, who had a rapid, frothy snarl on his face as he stared at the stand. “No fucking haircuts this time, YOU FILTHY MONGREL!” The flesh of the Malefactor slithered back into place as Gilgamesh sank his beastial fangs into the Hand’s neck. Before he could further maul his prey, something crashed into his back and erupted with enough heat to momentarily boil away the flesh of the orgo-synth and shattered the once-gilded (and now stained with blood and seething alien tissues) armor of the King of Kings.

Taking the chance to fight back, the Hand managed to gets its palms up under the infested monarch’s chest and shove the ailing beast backwards. Before it could swipe its hand, Gilgamesh had spun and lunged into the air.

“Oh, what the actual fuck,” Okuyasu shouted as he tried to jet away. Instead, a hand grabbed his ankle, and the next moment a set of teeth closed in around his calf. The stand user bit his own tongue as he tried not to scream at the sensation of his flesh being torn off his own body.

The Hand moved forward to protect its user. It swiped, disrupting the flesh of the orgo-synth and startling Malefactor-Gilgamesh enough to cause him to release his grip on Okuyasu, who barely maintained his tenuous grip on consciousness as his stand moved to join him. Blood-stained fingers frantically slammed at the accelerator as the mangled man escaped to the skies.

28 Contestants Remain


Malefactor-Gilgamesh absorbed additional punishment (Minor Injury)
Okuyasu’s left leg is shattered (he bone) below the knee, with the flesh and muscles partially eaten/torn off. He needs to patch this in some manner (improvise as needed in your writing – this is just flavor for you to run with). He can no longer walk on it without suffering agonizing pain (All in all this is counts as just one Major Injury)

Okuyasu has used the missile.

Malefactor has waived the cooldown.

Okuyasu is on cooldown (protected from another F2F) for 8 hours or unless they move from their present square. This protection can also be waived by letting me know via PMs.
 
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Mickey Mouse

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Mickey Mouse ran.

As soon as he’d smashed the ice around his hand and legs, he sprinted deep into the forest in the opposite direction of Gilgamesh and that… thing. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, but he held them back; he wouldn’t let Karl Jak see him be weak so soon in this game, and he certainly wouldn’t cry over Gilgamesh.

He couldn’t pause to catch his breath. Both monsters, he knew, were close on his little mousey tail, and stopping for even a second would be a waste of valuable time. He had to put distance between them or else there was no way he was going to survive to the end of this game and get to Karl Jak. No way that he was going to finally beat the purple-suited prince of pain at his own freakin’ game.

The Nemesis had certainly been a curveball, Mickey would give Karl that. He hadn’t expected that the man populated this island not only with other competitors but also with literal monsters.

He certainly hadn’t expected Gilgamesh to charge into battle like that, either.

Mickey Mouse tried to reconcile the Babylonian King’s actions with the man he knew him to be. For so long, even when he’d grown to respect Gilgamesh, he’d always just sort of filed him away as a ‘bad dude.’ A bad dude with inklings of good, sure, but self-sacrifice — and for the sake of an enemy, no less — hadn’t ever been on the table.

Had he misjudged Gilgamesh so drastically?

Was he actually the King of Heroes he claimed to be?

He ran through the forest of this year’s island, but in his mind, he was back on the first. Visions danced through his head of the gilded king pursuing him around the grounds of the diner with a jetpack, firing away, trying to murder him. He would’ve succeeded in exterminating the mouse that day if not for the last minute intervention of Gildarts.

His memories danced further to the climactic battle between the King of Heroes and the Proto Mouse. How he’d condemned the young man to a life of torment without even realizing it.

I doubt it could be much worse than the mark of Diablo.

Was the mark gone now, in this new world? Their partnership had been so brief Mickey Mouse hadn’t even had the chance to ask. He hadn’t even thought about it — the insensitivity of that was all too clear now. He talked a big game about being a good guy, but he hadn’t even taken the time to investigate the eternal torment he’d personally inflicted on the other monarch. Would he get the opportunity again, or was Gilgamesh doomed to carve a path of vengeful violence through this island indiscriminately?

Memories of the battle he and Yu Kanda fought against the would-be tyrant rushed back. Gilgamesh had ripped off one of his ears. How could that person ever be someone Mickey Mouse learned to trust? How could he ever hope to repair a relationship that had been so incredibly fractured? How could he ever anticipate that the same young man would risk his life to save him from the pursuit of a terrifying monster?

Had he been so wrong about Gilgamesh the whole freakin’ time?

Yes, dangit, he decided, and picked up the pace.

The mouse’s feet carried him through the underbrush of the forest. He dodged and weaved past trees and through bushes, kicking up dirt as he went. His good hand tightened its grip on the freeze ray as he glanced over his shoulder, always on alert. If there was a heroic person inside Gilgamesh, it wasn’t in control right now. Bryan had taken him over almost entirely by now, the mouse was sure, and the orgosynth probably wasn’t down for a good time.

Mickey’s stride faltered as he heard a loud roar break the tree line next to him. He held up the blue ray gun and fired off an ice beam, falling to his butt and sliding behind a nearby tree. The wailing roar came again, unfaltering, and he knew he’d missed his shot. Gilgamesh was so much better with this freakin’ gun, goshdarnit.

For a moment, he sat, shivering, behind the tree, watching as a velociraptor emerged from the shadows of the forest. “Oh heck,” he muttered, concealing himself fully behind the thick trunk of his hiding place. The velociraptor stood, curiously surveying the area around him, until another monster’s cry pierced the glade.

Mmooouuuussssee!

Mickey’s gaze flew back toward the direction he’d come from. That voice wasn’t the Nemesis’.

It was Gilgamesh.

The velociraptor wailed, and disappeared into the trees again. Mickey Mouse pushed himself off the ground and continued to run. He didn’t know where to; certainly the edge of the island would come eventually, and then he’d be trapped forever, waiting for the Nemesis or his ally to come and finish him off. Thinking about it, he’d prefer if the gilded king did him in.

He owed the King of Heroes a big apology.

His mind raced, and he crashed distractedly into something.

...

Nope. He looked up. Someone.
 

Yuuka Kazami

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The pain that blossomed in her side was nothing compared to how she had felt when she’d signed the forms. While she did suck in air through her teeth the first time she brushed her arm against the burn, its presence wasn’t a constant in her mind. She turned her gaze to the man who had de-limbed her attacker as he spoke.

“Nice to meet you then, Doomy,” she replied with a playful intonation to her words that was unnerving from a woman her age. “Yuuka Kazami. Thanks for the assistance in dismemberment.” The smile painted on her face didn’t fade for a millisecond.

“Uh, yeah, it’s Doomguy, but... You’re welcome.”

Her eyes had already moved onto the severed arm between them, which she knelt down to pick up and inspect. It was holding some kind of blaster weapon, and while the monster hadn’t done an incredible amount of damage with it... Well, perhaps it was simply more suited for her hands than his. She yanked the arm from the device, strapping the Proto Blaster to her off-hand and slipping the limb itself into her bag.

“You’re keeping that?” The man’s words ripped and tore her from her thoughts.

“Finder’s keepers, I grabbed it first.”

“...I meant the arm. Don’t worry about the weapon, it’s not the one I’m looking for.” He scowled at the reminder.

“Oh. Well, it could come in handy.” Yuuka snorted at her own joke. “Besides, whatever it is, it has to be more useful than these.” Rustling around in her bag a moment longer, she eventually pulled out the remaining condoms, holding them in the palm of her hand like a game show prize.

The marine couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her misfortune.

“I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be for.” The briefest instant of helplessness took over Yuuka’s expression.

And that laugh grew awkward, faded away, and died.
 

Karl Jak

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Evening Phase
(1800 to 0000)​

“Good evening to all of you down there on the island. This is your host and number one fanboi, Karl Jak. We had no one depart from our little island this afternoon, but if I was a betting man, I’d wager things are developing rather quickly. Watch your backs.

“And remember… that partner of yours wants to win just as badly as you do. Can you really trust them to have your best interests at heart?”

“No to bring to you a list of all the squares that will murder you in six hours:

F1
A6
B8

“Make sure you’re not there. Most of your heads look much prettier attached to your bodies! Sweet dreams, if you can find the willpower to sleep!”

Out-of-Karl Bulletins

  • This is, obviously, 6 PM until midnight, so it will be dark for the majority of this phase. The sun has set, so, y’know, it’s growing dark
  • Power Rankings come out tomorrow morning -- I'll be working on them this morning, this evening, and then finalizing in the mornin'.
  • Uhhh, I don't think there's anything else to add right now. You are six hours away from surviving to Day 2 on the island.
 

Kopaka

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The clogging mists of the forest remained tenaciously thick as twilight began to set in. Shadows that had already been deep became nearly bottomless in their umbra. Kopaka was glad, then, when they finally broke free of the deeper forest and began to move back towards the immense mountain and its promise of icy sanctuary. Rocky, barren hills loomed above them, and their bluffs were illuminated in solemn swatches of pink by the sunset. The pair of campers continued to stuff their bags full of dead wood and foraged material, and had been on the move for only two hours when Arthur suddenly threw a hand up and motioned for Kopaka to come closer.

The Toa, who had been idly gazing at the surrounding landscape, moved up the crumbly hillside next to the human.

"I don't like this, partner." Arthur said softly. He waved his finger over the outline of the looming crag in front of them. "I guarantee you there's an ambush waiting in there."

Kopaka breathed out a sharp, hissing sigh.

"It is the swiftest way to the ice." he said. His neutral inflection carried a tad more resentment than normal. At this point, Arthur would have normally turned around and enjoyed a good staring contest. Right now though, he had more important things to do. The survivalist pointed at the ground.

"Those iron clogs of yours leave quite the trail. Looks like...someone was followin' us. Someone with a...limp in their left leg? Maybe right." Arthur said. He scratched his face pensively, and looked back up at the pass through the hills. He had already been party to two ambushes in that direction this morning alone, and he didn't fancy the idea of moving through that kind of terrain at night.

"Then this is where we part ways, Arthur Morgan. I will not be denied my full potency." Kopaka seethed. He brushed past Arthur, and a moment later, heard the iconic whine of the BFG's turbines. The bionicle shuddered and wheeled around, leering at the human. A long, chilly breeze passed through the steppe. Arthur's face was twisted into an ugly mix of anger and sorrow.

"I didn't take you for a coward!" he half-yelled. The words pierced Kopaka deeply.

"...what?" the android growled. Arthur spit on the ground, despite having no chew in his cheek.

"I called you a damn coward, Kopaka! You wanna run home to yer snow and ice cuz you think you gon' be safe. Yer scared!" Arthur hollared. Kopaka didn't move. Arthur, ever the gambler, decided to double down.

"...more to the point, you don't trust other people. You don't trust that they can outsmart you, and you sure don't trust me, and that's why yer about to go stumblin' into trouble, jackass."

Kopaka glanced over at the tracks Arthur had pointed to. It was faint, but it did appear as though someone had been following them, at least for a short time. The android ran through scenarios in his head. The two of them should have easily been a matched for a single, injured combatant. Unless...either that competitor was not working alone, or had reason to believe they could match two other survivors with whatever supplies they had available. The Toa craned his neck to look at the ridge line which led to the glacier, yearning for the cold's embrace. Despite that...the human had some salient points. Then he heard the BFG 9000 power down.

"Yer nervous Kopaka. I'm nervous too. Shoot, anyone who ain't nervous on this island is outta their damn mind. Just-" Arthur started again, but was interrupted by the android's sulky stomping.

"Enough." Kopaka hissed. He trudged up to Arthur like a winter breeze, and gestured towards the surrounding landscape with a petulant hand.

"You lead then. I am not versed in the ways of ambush and treachery. These are not the ways of a Toa. But you clearly have experience with such things. We will find a place to spring a trap of our own." the bionicle growled. By Kopaka's standards, it was nearly ranting. Arthur had to chuckle, in spite of the metal man's obvious contempt for his wisdom. Arthur clapped the Toa on the back, and pointed at a landmark looming in the distance.

"Now yer talkin'. Let's get over yonder and see what we can get set up..." Arthur chuckled.

Once more, the mismatched pair marched down the craggy slope.

Once more, determined footsteps were left in the cold gravel.
 

Karl Jak

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Face to Face
#05 Gilgamesh vs #16 Aku vs #25 Pecan & #26 Nico Cinder

Fresh from their reunion, the pair of Pecan and Nico Cinder had been making moves. With Pecan sporting a noticeable limp, it had been slow moving, and since the sun had dipped down beneath the horizon, Nico had slung the guitar over his shoulder. In the darkness, they didn’t want to necessarily do anything to attract any extra attention.

Unfortunately, they didn’t realize they had not one but two people on their tails.

From the city, Aku had trailed the two men. They were so preoccupied with their human nonsense and idle banter that they never noticed him slinking in the shadows of the trees alongside their path. While his first instincts had been to descend upon them and destroy their WEAK and MORTAL bodies with his bare hands, the demon had kept his distance. Such actions took every fiber of strength he could muster, but the fact that he had spotted the hulking, dripping behemoth in the distance affirmed that he was making the right choice.

Thus, Aku opted to watch—his unsettling green lips twisted into a nefarious smile—as the lumbering, stealthless monster fell upon the twosome.

“I remember you!” A guttural voice screamed from behind Pecan and Nico.

Without looking over their shoulders, Nico turned to his companion. “The guy who jumped me got killed already, so who is this that you pissed off?”

Pecan smiled faintly. “Oh, I think I have an entire list at this point.”

The pair turned to see the manic face of Gilgamesh glaring at them through the darkening light of dusk. With the Malefactor peel away from his visage, the King could stare upon another on of his would-be assailants.

“The gold guy from the gym?” Pecan chuckled. “You don’t look like you’re doing so well.”

Gilgamesh grinned as the orgo-synth’s face slipped over his own. When we spoke again, it was through an oversized maw laden with jagged, slobbery teeth. “I am fucking incredible.”

“It’s time for that thing,” Pecan muttered as Malefactor-Gilgamesh came running at them on all fours.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Nico replied as he shouldered the rocket launcher. His fingers found the trigger, but the hulking creature leapt sideways into the bushes. “Where…?”

Aku came scrambling out from the trees—his eyes wide as something even blacker and viler than he grabbed onto his legs. “SHOOT THE BEAST!” He shouted as Nico swung the heavy barrel of the weapon and pulled the trigger. The rocket crashed against the chest of the monster and threw it back into the trees with a burst of heat and light that made the world around the three other fighters seem like it was high noon once more.

Failing to skip one single beat, Aku was on his feet and rushing at Nico. Evil intent on his nightmarish features, the demon warlord batted as the heavy firearm and sneered into the eyes of the young man. Nico got both of his hands up but not in time to stop the wave of fire breath from washing over him.

Before Aku could boil away the FEEBLE human’s flesh, he was struck in the side of the head by Pecan, who smile despite the fact that he appeared to be laboring to stand.

“C’mon, you ugly fucking bastard. Pecan’ll personally escort your ass straight to the gates of hell, my man.”

“I AM NO MAN!” Aku growled, but instead of wrapping his hands around the grinning human’s neck, the demon felt the bitter knifing of irony as flames washed over his own back.

Falling to his knees as his mortal flesh blistered, Aku scrambled for the cover of trees. He was eternal. These sacks of meat could deal with the screaming flesh monsters themselves!

“You good, pal?” Pecan whispered as Malefactor-Gilgamesh, flamethrower for one hand and a lightsaber for the other, came rushing at them.

“Y-yea,” came the reply.

“Just get the boomstick ready.”

Stogie in his mouth, Pecan turned to confront the approaching monster. “In a way, you’re somehow not as unsettling as the other guy.”

The alien visage of the orgo-synth scowled as he sprang into an attack.

Pecan managed to bat aside the flamethrower with his left forearm, but when he tried to land a blow with his right hand, it was met by the scintillating blade of a lightsaber. The energy weapon passed easily between the madman’s two central knuckles and caved a beautiful arching path almost the entire length of his right forearm. It was only his knees collapsing that spare the rest of his arm.

Smelling blood, the Malefactor stepped forward and prepared to feast.

Instead, a second rocket round slammed into its chest.

28 Contestants Remain

Aku has a burns alongside his back (Minor Injury)
Nico Cinder has burns to his face, hair, and arms (Minor Injury)
Pecan’s right arm is sliced in half from the middle of his hand up to his elbow (Insane Injury) – … at least this one is cauterized already? Also… my man… you might wanna go on the lam for a few days.

Malefactor-Gilgamesh has used an application of Focus to heal the damage sustained here
Nico Cinder was pressured into using an application of Focus

(I did not include it in this roleplay, as I assume Wyatt will probably want to write today outside of combat, but he failed his ‘Evening phase’ saving throw – he may roll again next phase)

Aku, Pecan, Malefactor-Gilgamesh, and Nico are on cooldown (protected from another F2F) for 8 hours or unless they move from their present square. This protection can also be waived by letting me know via PMs.
 
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"Fishing?" Ashe echoed the word, with some small traces of genuine curiosity to her tone. "Do we not have sufficient food as things stand?"

"Not exactly fishing in that sense of the word." Mustang's expression adopted that same grin once again, as they quickly made way out of the city and into the forests beyond. "Just time for a little...strategy."

The battered golem remained silent as she trudged behind the similarly-injured soldier. Strategy, was it... She had tried her own hand at that, and it had gone rather poorly thus far. Not even a day into the competition to be fair, and they had encountered only a small number of contestants...but still, it had gone quite poorly for her. She was meant to be better at split-second decisions and short-term tactics, not this wide-reaching and long-term scheming and plotting spanning hours or days. Such things were beyond her.

So she was perfectly content in this case to let someone else try their hand at the planning and strategizing aspect. It could hardly turn out worse than her own decisions had.

After perhaps an hour, trudging through the forest as darkness descended with only minor small talk between them, Ashe slowed her pace to a complete halt.

Mustang carried on for several paces before the lack of the thudding footsteps near at hand alerted him to this fact, and he turned in place to look back at her. "Something up?"

"I wish to address something that our host mentioned." The amazonian war machine spoke uncharacteristically softly.

This made the soldier turn completely around to face her directly. "I'm listening."

"I do not wish to win this game he has set up." It was a simple statement, but the oddity of its timing brought a look of utter astonishment to the face of her companion. "I realize I have no way to prove that fact. But rest assured, I am only using this event for my own purposes. Winning would be an exceedingly unlikely outcome, and I would have no use for any of the prizes or any other such thing."

"So not here for the money, the treasure, or the fame..." Mustang spoke slowly, as if carefully digesting this information. "What then?" His grin returned, though far more non-seriously this time. "Not just for fun, I hope."

"Not fun." She shook her head, what she knew as the most obvious human signal of disagreement. "Experience."

Mustang slowly pulled one hand free and up to his chin, cupping it with his fingers and staring intently up at the great golem. It was an absurd thing to try and imagine, not being enticed at all by any of the prizes offered to the winner of this thing. Not impossible to imagine, but....not easy. Especially with there not being any greater driving force, physical or bureaucratic, pushing her around and forcing her to sign up for this crazy death game.

"Alright then. Say I believe you." And he held out his hand toward her, in an inquisitive gesture. "Why bother to tell me?"

"It is not in my nature to trust or distrust." Ashe's tone had again lapsed back into her flat, near emotionless not-quite-monotone. "I am capable of such things. But I do not. Trust incites vulnerability, distrust incites paranoia." she lifted her eye head back up to peer forward. "But a partnership cannot last longer than its immediate benefit without some measure of one and lack of the other."

"So are you spilling all this in some strange way to ask me to trust you, then?" This made him just shake his head incredulously. "I can't really say that—"

"Negative." And without missing a beat, Ashe started forward again. "Not to trust me, but to trust in the fact I have nothing to gain from any sort of betrayal or actions against you so long as we work together."

Mustang remained in place for several seconds, carefully deliberating over that. Definitely an odd request...trusting someone and trusting them not to do a certain thing were so closely linked most people wouldn't give it the time of day to really make the distinction. But this robot...this robot wasn't most people. "Alright then. I won't trust you," he finally said, turning to quickly jog after her and catch up. It brought a fresh grimace to his face, the more energetic motions agitating his wounds, but he bit down on the discomfort. "But I guess I can also not distrust you, either."

"That is acceptable." In the encroaching gloom under the forest canopy, Ashe's expression was completely unreadable. An errant spark from the stump of her missing limb provided the briefest hint of light, light a flickering lighter, though, and...was she smiling?

How unsettling.
 
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