”Good evening, dear contestants. It seems like everything is moving quite smoothly down there, yes? I’m so glad to see it! All of those danger zones from last phase are active now, so mind your step~ The following ones will be going active next phase:
Also if I were you, I would keep an eye on the weather...it’s looking a tad scary out there!
Have a good night now!”
NPC Movement Updates
Mid-Boss remains dead…
Perfect Cell remains dead...
Agent Hunk carefully makes his way along the banks of a river.
Sigma remains dead…
Darth Vader remains dead…
King remains dead...
Bulletins and Updates
The gales and winds will die down shortly.
The static sound will grow more intense, as the air fills with an energetic feeling and a faint metallic taste. Static electricity and mild shocks will be common.
The storm from far out at sea has moved in with an unnatural speed, and now blankets the island. Even at this late hour, it won’t quite get fully dark, and the island is bathed in a pale purple glow. Intermittently, lightning will flash and strike at random, with catastrophic results. There is no sound of thunder to be heard from this bizarre storm.
They relaxed as much as they could, which, given the circumstance, was more than most. Dekugo lounged against the sagging limb of a hardwood willow, one arm hanging down past the bough in rest. The trees in the swamp were plentiful and their growth was more substantial still. As the Princess lounged, however, they felt something pitiful. They felt loss.
One hand ran through green hair streaked with blonde.
Their body pitched itself over the length of a branch, looked out upon the swamp beyond, and they heaved a sigh. Thinking beyond the bounds of the competition they began to contemplate their home. ...they began to think of who they were before they were ‘they’. Some of the sympathy of Izuku Midoriya trickled into their being and reminded them of who they were separately, and their relationship trickled into the Fusion standing now looking over the swamp as the morning light began to filter.
They looked down at their tommy gun.
They looked next at their scouter, filtering in the last hunt, and then to folks nearest to their location.
“If we both make it out of here, we make it out of here together.”
Their voices were that of music in that they were lilting, pitched, and surreal in their nature and yet they were separate tunes. One was harsh and almost repentful and the other was soulful and dripped with deference. Two beings in one body, yet, they’d not found synergy.
They sat up against the branch and toted the Chicago Typewriter, then activated their scouter. The part of them that was Bakugo had instincts that were sharp, and the part of them that were Midoriya had a spirit that wouldn’t let them rest. Once the scouter activated, they pulled out their map and began to mark the parts of it that needed marking. Their last opponent took precedence, given that he couldn’t have moved more than a few map pieces away. The rest of them took the secondary place.
...the peaceful nature of Midoriya tempered some of Princess Bakugo’s aggression.
And yet…
Something Bakugo had brought to the table left the fusion hungry, and sick. Their vision flitted from the scouter and down towards their hands, which crackled. Hisses and pops. Gritted teeth, and a finger to the temple.
“...warm. It’s so warm.”
Some part of their injuries started to numb, then, and an anger welled up within their being. Dekugo thought about the past few days, about Deku himself faltering in the swamp, and about Bakugo slapping half of themselves across the face.
Nostrils flared, and flames spouted from them. Without prompt they thrust their arms, one of which shot with agony that was ignored, up into the air. Plumes of flame burst forth from each palm before they paused and put both hands onto their forehead, which burned hot.
Standing there before the swamp, Princess Dekugo sank to their knees and threw back their head, roaring fire, and seeing red. They snorted smaller flames, shook their head like a wet cat, and then looked around hungrily.
Something was misfiring in their brain.
Inside of their head a desperate Deku held back a sick Bakugo who struggled to break free, explosions firing wanton from each hand while Deku pled with his partner.
‘Kacchan! You’re not...WE’RE not well. Please…’
But it wasn’t enough to temper their body. The Sigma Virus had taken hold.
My body ached and throbbed with pain as I marched across field and marsh. My boots made thick footprints as I wiped condesation from my cracked goggles. I'd finally discarded the mask after Witt's insane and grating....thing. Mirage...both of them here as well. It seems I wasn't the only Legend who'd been transported here, and no doubt I would have to seek them out after this contest...if only to silence them for their knowledge of me.
Still...a reassuring whine emanated from the weapon on my hip and the silvery chain was still firmly wrapped around my gauntlet. I'd discovered another of it's properties, and had been able to cover a large distance through the forest by using it at a makeshift grapple. The effort was worth the quick pace it allowed me, but too much would strain my already aching frame. The pain I could ignore, but the humiliation of Mirage crowing his utter babble stung.
He would be too dangerous to face head on with his bounty of luck. Let the others smash his stupid face in first. I had noticed signs in the grass of passage, and an impression that told me someone had stumbled. I was by no means a tracker like Bluthundr, but I could see the trail left by a moderately injured individual just fine...
They had just left the swamplands behind, starting up onto the drier, hilly terrain that bordered it when they felt that prickly feeling of being watched. In response, they did the only thing which made sense: a sweeping motion of one arm and a virtual carpet bombing of everything to their right, blowing the grassy hill into a smoldering mound of wreckage and rubble.
It served them poorly, however, as moments later there was a wordless sound of hissing and screeching as something lunged out of the smoke. It came down from a higher place, spinning through the air in a blur of motion and with a sickening crack it smashed Princess Dekugo in the side of the head with a crowbar.
Both of them toppled to the ground, the sudden newcomer writhing about with a manic, frantic energy and strength that belied the stick-thin, emaciated frame it came from. The two fighters wrestled violently, one of them screaming and spitting nonsense, the other spewing tongues of flame and angry popping sparks.
In such a desperate grapple neither one could gain the upper hand right away, until eventually the scrawny figure received a face full of fire, making him go flailing back and away with a horrid, pitiful wailing sound. And that momentary distraction was all that Princess Dekugo needed to turn the tables.
Gunfire tore apart the static-filled air as the Chicago Typewriter perforated the hillside, and their unfortunate foe. More mangled screeching and anguished yells went up, as Gollum dragged himself with both hands away from his foe and into the cover of a rock.
“Get the fuck back out here!” Dekugo snarled, and lunged after him. A vicious strike with clawed nails into the boulder, and it was ripped apart by an explosive blast. Cowering there, in the rubble, Gollum babbled incoherently as he pawed at his wounds with one hand, desperately clutching something in the fingers of the other.
“Show’s over, jackass.” Empty hand came down to point palm-first at the pitiful creature. Sparks popped and crackled, as the manic form of Gollum went eerily still and he looked up at Dekugo with an expression of pure, utter hatred.
“We’s not done yet…” And with visible desperation, he hefted the hand clutching something, hissing and spitting at his enemy, and drove it into his own chest. Blood spurted and gushed from the injury, making him scream in agony. “...you...will not takes it from us! Not this one!” he screeched, clutching at the bleeding wound with one hand while he groped for the crowbar with his other.
The bizarre self-mutilation cut through the haze of fever and bloodlust of the Sigma Virus clouding the mind of Princess Dekugo, and for a second they halted. “What...the fuck…?”
And in that instant Gollum struck. He whirled about on three limbs, kicking out with his legs to trip up his foe and striking out with the crowbar in a vicious frenzy. As they stumbled back, he sprang up and latched onto their neck with his legs, swinging and smashing at them with the blunt instrument in his hands. “You will not takes it!” he screamed again, taking the crowbar in both hands now as he swung again and again and again.
Dekugo struck out wildly, fending off the iron bar as many times as they could, scratching and clawing at the scrawny fiend to try and dislodge him as they both spun about crazily, twisting and stumbling further up the hill...until they hit a sudden drop and both of them went over the edge.
At the bottom, an explosion went up making the entire hillside shudder and collapse.
Minutes later, the shaking hand of Princess Dekugo burst through the rubble, and they clawed their way free, heaving several deep breaths. They cursed and spat at the absurdity of the fight, that something so pitiful could have managed to get the drop on them. But it was done now...the pest was dead. They stalked off unsteadily into the hills.
Buried in the rubble, Gollum was not as dead as the fusion had suspected. Beaten and broken, certainly, but not dead. Not...exactly…
And when he managed to pull himself from the rubble, he felt more alive than ever.
14 Contestants Remain
Gollum has been pressured into using one application of Focus.
Gollum has used the Temsik Fragment, and staved off death.
Princess Dekugo has been afflicted with a great deal of cranial trauma from repeated crowbar bashings, suffering a concussion (Minor Injury) and several cracks/fractures in the skull (Minor Injury), as well as an uncomfortable level of bruising around the neck (Story Injury).
On the shores of the island’s central lake, Weiss gingerly pulled herself back up to her feet. “Alright, Kazooie...time to get going again, I guess.”
“About time!” The breegull’s enthusiasm was readily apparent, as she gave a quick stretch before launching into a graceful flip in the air and practically swan dived into the small opening of the odd little blue backpack with barely a ruffling of the fabric, promptly vanishing from sight as she did.
Weiss hefted the backpack up onto her shoulders, with a slight huff, as she turned to set out.
* * *
”Good evening, Doctor. Mind the weather, won’t you? It’s taken a turn for the truly awful. But ignoring all that… Your opponent this time is contestant number ten, Weiss. She’s a capable little thing, don’t let her age fool you. Nimble and quick, and she packs a punch. Plus...she isn’t exactly human, at least not anymore. Watch out for those ridiculous lasers of hers. Oh...and keep an out for her little ‘friend’. That one is an unexpected nuisance you don’t want to get caught off guard by…”
Caustic simply snorted derisively. “A friend...in this competition? Unlikely.” He rose from his half-crouch among the wooded thicket and resumed his forward march. With any luck, he could be able to get within striking distance of this one before they were aware of him. Another quick execution and he could be on his way without incident.
* * *
The pervasive hum of electric energy in the air, compounded with the frequent striking of lightning across the island, made it hard to keep alert for anything out of the ordinary. It also made it easier for the nefarious sorts to sneak up on someone.
Weiss found this out all too clearly when an icy-cold length of chain suddenly whipped out of nowhere and coiled tight around her throat. With a violent tug, it pulled a choking gag from her mouth and sent her crashing down to the ground with an agonized gasp. And then against all odds, the chains tightened, constricting and crushing her airway in spite of her best efforts against it.
“I don’t think so!” from the backpack, Kazooie shot forth with a ruffle of feathers and the roar of an already revving chainsaw. There was murder in her eyes, as she made a flying leap and swung with all her worth at the offending chain. There was a grating shower of sparks as she brought it down , pinning it between the grinding teeth and the earth below. For just a moment, she took the pressure off and gave Weiss a chance to escape the deathgrip on her neck.
From his place some several dozen feet away, Caustic cursed as he wrenched on the whip’s handle again, gouging the earth below where it was pinned and withdrawing it into its more compact state while the obnoxiously grinning bird-woman scurried back to her ally’s side. “So…that friend…” How...incredibly odd. A woman in a backpack. Now he truly had seen everything. “...no matter. You’ve done nothing but double the sample size.”
“Hey, Weiss. You okay?” Kazooie whispered, helping the huntress back up.
“Do I look alright?!” she snapped in response, tenderly rubbing her neck. “I don’t know if I can deal with this guy right now...not if he can pull stunts like that.”
“Lemme handle the mobility and avoiding his crazy shit.” A devious grin crossed over the avian woman’s face. “You just come up with a way to put him down.”
“What are you…” Weiss had no time to respond before her partner had dove back into the backpack, and then without further prompting had stuck her legs out the bottom and hefted the huntress up onto her back. “....uuuaaaah!”
Sliding her legs into a wider stance to support the awkward posture, Kazooie held the chainsaw out in both hands. “And now, let’s go!” And like a shot from a gun she was off, racing across the intervening distance between the mismatched pair and the toxic doctor.
It necessitated a winding, circuitous route around bushes and shrubs, as Caustic lashed and struck out with the Vampire Killer. Plant life burst into flame and was shredded as finally as if any lawnmower had run over it with every blow, narrowly avoiding his intended targets. He was forced to scramble into motion, running and leaping and vaulting over the lakeside plains to keep distance between them.
Try as he might, though, they were faster and steadily gaining ground on him. A very worrying prospect, which made him scowl. “Fine, then...you want to get close?” And he withdrew the whip before raising it overhead and spinning it. It whirled about him, in a lazy circle at first before gaining momentum and spinning faster, quicker; until it was little more than a blurred silvery line curving several times through the air into a rough dome around him.
His free hand pulled the C-Finder from his belt, and he leveled it toward the duo as they dashed straight for him. “....at this distance it will be dangerous, but…” He could only grin madly as he depressed the trigger. “...so be it.”
The laser designator painted the target, with a flashing green light for confirmation.
“Alright, not we got ya!” Kazooie jeered as they closed in and she lunged, chainsaw first, at the whirling barrier of defense. Sparks flew, along with shards of metal and she jerked back with a surprised yelp as the terrifying weapon was sent spinning end over end out of her hands. “Crap crap crap!”
And then the sky fell, parting the turbulent clouds overhead as a brilliant beam of blue light crashed into the ground and carved out a huge crater. All three combatants were sent flying from the blast, sprawling in messy heaps dozens of feet away.
Caustic was the first one to stagger out of the smoking heaps they had been reduced to. Battered and singed, but otherwise none the worse for wear. “Far too easy…” he hissed, before cutting himself off as a red glow of energy shone out and Weiss unsteadily loomed out of the smoke billowing from her own self-made crater.
“C’mon, pal…” Kazooie wheezed, quite literally carrying the other girl in her arms. “Let ‘im have it!” And she crouched down like a sprinter, her wings spread wide...and launched herself forward. Maybe she could fly, but she could still send herself flying to full speed in no time flat, closing the distance between the pair and Caustic before he could muster so much as a curse.
Weiss’s expression grew hard as she lifted a shaking, trembling arm palm out toward the doctor and uttered a single word: ”Cero.”
The resulting blast turned the entire world briefly red, and launched the noxious scientist back as if struck by a car, making him skip and roll and tumble along the ground until he struck a huge boulder in the field, utterly pulverizing it and vanishing into the resulting smoke and rubble.
“Good job...now let’s vamoose!” Kazooie wheezed, turning to sprint away, pausing only to grab up the fallen chainsaw on their way.
“G-good...idea…” the huntress agreed.
14 Contestants Remain
Weiss has used one application of Focus.
Caustic has used Euclid’s C-Finder.
Weiss has suffered severe bruising and damage to the neck (Minor Injury), as well as serious trauma and injury from orbital laser bombardment in the form of grotesque burns along nearly her entire body (Major Injury) and the complete shattering of her already broken arm (Major Injury upgraded to Insane).
Caustic has suffered some residual trauma from a danger-close orbital bombardment (Minor Injury) and suffered serious burns and bruising over his entire front side from a Cero blast (Major Injury) as well as many bruises and fractures from his impromptu impression of a rock on a lake (Minor Injury).
The terrain flew past in a blur as Mirage hurried back to where he had left his partner. His body felt heavy, though it could be the weight of all the loot he carried off of that bug guy. He didn’t read much of the notes that came with them, he just hoped there was something, anything that might help him, or more specifically, Wraith, from their end.
The past couple of days were fun, though he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He felt the soreness in his body from the free for all on the mountain, but most of his other injuries weren’t something to write home about. As for Wraith, he could only remember her taking the brunt of the damage in every battle they have been in so far.
“I guess you were the one really being bamboozled by me this time, Renee.” He whispered softly to himself as the storm overhead brewed. The purple glow only further focused his thoughts on his interdimensional traveling friend. Without her, who would stop him from showing off to the enemy with his cool new stuff? Yeah, he was pretty powerful, but there wasn’t a point if he didn’t have a buddy to share it with.
“What about me? We go way back!” A duplicate beside him called out in a hurtful tone. The trickster simply stopped on a hill for a moment.
“It-it’s not the same. Me and me both know that.” He somberly spoke against the erratic winds before his decoy vanished into nothingness. There was a bit more than just showing off. Even now, not even a day later, he felt lonely, and from the looks of it, if he couldn’t get her any help soon, there wasn’t gonna be a second chance. No banner to pick up. No respawn beacon to get her back. This wasn’t the Apex games, so what games were these?
“Augh! I’m not good at this existential crap!” He kicked a stone off the hill, upset with himself. He didn’t like dwelling on these thoughts. He was used to just going with the flow and strapping in for the ride. Nonetheless, they still clouded his mind. He had to focus back on his task. Another whip of the gear and he was off again, his goggles shielding his eyes from the gusts as he hurried by.
“I’m coming for you, Renee, don’t you worry. Mirage is coming to save the day.”
Mirage had left. This was the best outcome for the two of them. Elliot had taken her equipment and gone off to intercept a target. Wraith found herself hoping he had succeeded. She honestly did not know she cared this much, but Mirage was a friend. She lifted her shirt and exposed the purpled and bruised skin above her broken ribs. She placed a hand to them and felt for the broken one. Letting her shirt fall over her hand she applied pressure in some vain attempt to give herself some relief from the pain. It also did not help that her neck was on fire. She could barely move her head and with each breath she struggled not to cough out more of the crimson liquid that stained her lips and chin.
You were too slow.
You’re not done yet.
Apply pressure a little higher.
Wraith moved her hand higher on her ribcage and felt relief as the bone was moved back into its correct position. As the weather steadily worsened into the evening the void specialist found herself trying to move, but her body was almost completely locked up. The muscular trauma on top of the damage to her skeletal structure was causing her body to stiffen. Everything hurt.
“You better have won that fight, Elliot.” She mused, fresh blood spilling from her mouth.
Someone has a shot on you.
“Did you really doubt that I wouldn’t? I am the best after all.” Mirage said as he came to a stop from a sprint.
“Elliot!? I thought I told you to leave me here.” Wraith said, turning her head towards her partner.
“C’mon Rene. I wasn’t about to abandon you here. Who’s going to bear witness to my greatness if I do?” He said, flexing as two mirror copies of himself spun off and began flexing in an attempt to seem manly.
Wraith rolled her eyes.
“So why are you back? Did you find something that would help?”
Mirage dug out the gems he had snagged off of his previous opponent.
“Well, I managed to read a few of these while trying to remember which tree you were at, so I figured we might be able to use one to even the odds a bit.” He gave a wide grin, quite proud of whatever it was he was holding.
“Please tell me you are going to do more than give me jewelry.” Her voice was a harsh whisper.
“Well, I uh- I think it’s going to be more than shiny rocks. I think three should be enough. Hopefully. ” He held the three gems in his hands, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’t think about pork chops. Don’t think about pork chops.”
The Chaos Emeralds glittered and shone brightly for a moment, all three floating into the air before swirling above his hands.
“Oh man, I hope that isn’t the wind…”
With a blinding flash, a waft of air blew out, smelling distinctly like seared pork chops, and something fell into Mirage’s hands with no trace of the gems behind.
“Elliot, is that-?”Wraith called out before having a coughing fit, spitting blood onto the grass.
The trickster legend gave a sigh of relief. It was exactly what he wanted, though it also reeked of seared pork. In his hands was a rather large black capsule sporting an orange ring at the bottom. The purple liquid inside hummed and sploshed about as Mirage held it up. Even with the storm darkening the sky, the emblem of a phoenix reflected quite visibly.
“Well, it’s not Ajay, but I think this would work, right? Team Mirage; one! All the other teams; probably not one!”
Wraith couldn’t help but chuckle wholeheartedly, her body responding with a sharp pain from her injuries. Her vision had already blurred hours ago, and even her hearing was starting to go out. Might be best to use that now and celebrate after. She shifted into a more upright position, allowing Mirage to hand her the item. With a grunt, she grabbed both ends and pulled with her remaining strength, barely hanging on with her worn body. She had lost a lot of blood and broken a few too many bones, more than usual in times like this, and couldn’t help but feel a tinge of doubt. The whistle of the kit rang through their ears like a familiar lullaby. The two legends stared at each other for a moment, before the satisfying exhale of the capsule signaling its use.
As the capsule completed its hiss Wraith felt a sickening and uncomfortable crack in her neck as the bones mended themselves. She felt her ribs realign, her voice return, and she all around felt an immense rush of vigor and adrenaline. A crackling bolt of void energy danced around her torso as she climbed to her feet and spit out the last bit of blood from her previously grievous injuries. Taking her canteen from the gear bag that Mirage had left next to her she took a long drink and emptied the container of water, swishing it around and pouring some of her face to clean the dried blood from her skin.
“Surprise. It’s my turn.” She said, clenching a gloved fist in the direction Caustic had fled.
“Hey. You look better already, Rene! Almost as good as me…almost.” Mirage said with his signature smile.
“Did you at least squash that bug I sent you to exterminate…and why do I smell pork chops?”
“Well duh! How do you think I was able to miraculously save you? I brought back your armor as well. You can have it back. It cramps my style.” Elliot said, flexing again.
“That’s fine. I need something to keep me from getting wrecked again.” The void specialist said as she slid the breastplate over her head and began clasping it to her torso.
Grasping the various pieces of the Sunlight Gear she affixed them to her body until she was wearing the scorched field plate once again. Affixing the shield to her back she grabbed the scabbard that held her sword and drew the blade in one motion. Raising it to the sky the firmament responded with bolts of lightning, showing that her ability to throw bolts of electricity like a Greek god had gone unhindered. Sheathing the weapon, she strapped it to her right thigh.
“Here. You can have the computer back too. For the life of me I couldn’t get it to work. Thing’s old and complicated.” Mirage said, handing the data pad back to his partner along with something extra.
“A knife.”
“Yeah. Maybe you could dual wield it with the sword!” Elliot said, mimicking a dual wielding pose, a second set of himself appearing next to him giving him a thumbs up.
“Sounds good to me. I won’t be too slow this time. We’ll win this.” Wraith mused, flourishing the knife between her fingers, bringing the blade out.
She examined the edge before returning it to a closed position and sliding it into her belt.
Caustic has fled to the west. Get moving.
Wraith put a hand to her head. The voices had been oddly quiet since she entered the game, but it was good to know they were still there.
The Warthog slowed to a halt, on the banks of a river. They’d passed this one by not too long ago. With a grunt, they rolled from the vehicle and hit the ground with a faint thud. The event had taken its toll and they were most definitely suffering. Bloodhound willed themselves to their feet and stumbled to the river. They brought a gloved hand up to tear their helmet away, dragging the respirator with it. Whatever that blade was, it had pulled quite the number of them. Their chest heaved in agony, blood staining the front of their clothing. They managed to claw their way to the cool water and submerged their head within.
Soon enough, their lungs started to burn. Every fibre of their being screamed at them to pull away from the water and take a breath. There the Hunter remained, though. For another half a minute or so, they deprived their body of that vital breath, inwardly cursing themselves for not having fought harder. They pulled away from the water a moment later, taking a deep breath as they did so. The Holy Hand Grenade had done its job, for the most part, though they were not lucky enough to find any spoils. A rare moment of fear had tugged them away from the battle, perhaps a sign from the Allfather, letting them know that this was not their time? They had questions that needed answering, but this was not the time. The Hunter scooped up a handful of water from the river and poured it across their chest, attempting to clear away any dirt or debris that had gotten caught in their wound.
"My ríkr fate is on my side."
Bloodhound turned back to regard the sky, fetching their helmet from the ground as they stood. The purple glow that covered the island gave off an ominous feeling. The odd lightning bolt that struck the ground coupled with the high pitched whine was enough to distract even the most determined of hunters. A pit formed in their stomach.
“This island is not long for this world.”
They replaced their helmet and respirator and headed for the Warthog.
“The slátra of this next battle will be remembered. The Allfather wills it.”
Agent HUNK slowly lumbered away from the fields. Away from the corpse of a former competitor. Around the lake, and along the bank of a river.
As he went, he paused, lifting his head. The incessant noise which had overtaken the island made it hard to tell for certain, but...was that?
An engine.
The mercenary’s body tensed up and he looked this way and that, trying to discern the source of the noise to no avail. It was only at the last second he felt that screaming feeling in the back of his skull only born from years on the battlefield; that ‘danger sense’ that only barely escaping death one too many times could instill in you. He felt it, rather than heard or saw it coming.
And he hurled himself to one side and into a messy tumble through the grass just in time to avoid a bolt of lightning which turned the ground his boots had just occupied into ash and smoking cinders.
Hunk came up in a half-crouch, his breath ragged and faltering through his damaged gas mask. His eyes flicked one way and then another, searching out his enemy. One hand clutched at the flares at his belt, the other lifted in a ready posture as the clunky power fist adorning it belched steam and readied to crush whatever it met next.
Danger arrived next in the form of the roaring of an engine much closer this time, and the Warthog came careening over a hill, straight toward him. Behind the wheel, Bloodhound sat resolute and simply slammed the gas pedal harder as they barreled toward the mercenary.
They still remembered their earlier encounter, it seemed.
HUNK cursed his luck and scrambled up to his feet. “No time to make a thought-out tactical decision…” he hissed under his breath. He braced himself and bolted into motion at a dead sprint toward the oncoming vehicle. With nary a grunt or yell or any noise, he gave a desperate flying leap…
...and was rewarded with a sickening crunch as the front of the vehicle clipped his knees, bowling him over and sending him crashing into the hood. He grasped and clawed at it with his free hand, searching for purchase, and finally found it. Just enough for a grip, to haul himself up...and send his power fist augmented arm crashing into, and through, the reinforced windshield of the Warthog.
The rough blow missed Bloodhound entirely, but that had never been his target. Pulling his arm back, Hunk seized the steering wheel in his hydraulic-powered grasp. His exposed eye nearly seemed to give off the same ominous glow as his gas mask as he wrenched on the wheel, sending the vehicle into a crazy skidding turn through the grass before violently overturning and being sent tumbling and rolling several times.
Both driver and unplanned passenger were dislodged in the crash. Bloodhound regained their feet more quickly, readying for a fight.
A fight that was swiftly turned in their favor, by something they could see but HUNK could not.
The figure of Wraith, slowly creeping up behind the mercenary as he struggled up to his feet on at least one broken leg. The flash of silver, as a knife appeared in her hands, and then sank into HUNK’s back once...twice...then again.
He went sprawling, staggering and stumbling forward. HUNK’s breath came in ragged gasps, falling to one knee and bracing himself with an arm. “Not...like this…” he hissed, and with a jerking, faltering energy forced himself upright again.
Every motion was ragged, spasming one, but somehow he was on his feet. One leg was unsteady, the other looking ready to give out at any second. Blood heavily stained his exposed face beneath the mask, and dripped freely from its bottom side. But still, in sheer defiance, he lifted his shaking arms and squared off into a combat ready stance. Two against one...he could still manage. He could still pull a win…
“Upsie-daisy, now!” The groaning of metal and squeaking of rubber alerted him to the presence of another individual, as Mirage used his empowered state to flip the Warthog right-side-up again. He turned about with a grin, dusting his hands off, as he produced the matching sword and pistol of his new gear. “Three against one hardly seems fair...but hey, that’s life.”
“This isn’t the kind of game where ‘fair’ has any kind of bearing on anything,” Wraith agreed.
Bloodhound was more subdued, simply offering a quiet, “Have you prepared for your end?”
Then everything exploded into motion, quite literally.
In spite of his poor condition, HUNK fought like a man possessed. Or like a cornered beast. Every last ounce of strength he had left poured out, as he rolled with the punches. Countering and dodging blow after blow; the blunky and straightforward nature of his own weapon left him unable to land a decisive blow in return, but he was against all odds able to hold his own and fight back.
Even when the hand not sporting the power fist was sliced off by Mirage’s blade, he kept fighting. Even when he was electrocuted by a lightning spear and borne down under a shield bashing charge from Wraith, he rolled back to his feet and kept fighting. Even when Bloodhound briefly retreated to the Warthog to man the turret and perforated both of his legs, he kept fighting.
In his last moments, Agent HUNK lived up to his hard-earned epithets.
The power fist was finally ripped from his arm by a concerted effort between two of the Legends, hurled away into the grassy fields.
Broken and bloodied, he stumbled away, nerveless and shattered fingers reaching blindly for something at his belt. ”You cannot...kill...death…” he rasped. His voice was hoarse and raw as he lifted the signal flares overhead. They were all lit.
The dull rumble and thrum of the gunship as it came shearing through the electrically charged haze soon rose over the distant striking of lightning. The whine of its guns spinning up sounded, as HUNK remained standing perfectly still, staring defiantly at his enemies. ”...only he...decides...when it ends!”
And with the last of his strength, he hurled the flares toward his foes, even as the gunship overhead unleashed its payload. Gatling cannons and rockets tore apart the earth, and reduced Agent HUNK to a bloody mess as they line of explosions raced toward the other combatants. They managed to escape the fury, not unscathed, but alive.
The same could not be said...for Mr. Death.
#009 Agent HUNK eliminated
13 Contestants Remain
Agent HUNK was pressured into using 3 applications of Focus
Agent HUNK used the remaining Signal Flares.
Bloodhound has suffered several minor fractures and bruises from the forced Warthog.
Bloodhound, Mirage and Wraith have suffered the equivalent of a Minor Injury in the form of various bruises, cuts, batterings and beatings from the final brawl, and an assortment of glancing blows from bullets and rocket shrapnel totaling up to a Major Injury.
Kazooie had managed to prop her new friend up in a nearby thicket. The two were quick to sigh in relief as they were given blessed shelter from the punishing dust devils outside. Weiss had needed her avian friend’s help just to walk, with the wind beating her already compromised arm hard enough to bring tears to the huntress's eyes. Finding this refuge of reeds and bushes, too stubborn for the wind to cut through, gave her enough clarity of thought to actually think, again.
The huntress looked up at Kazooie, and she only gave a small smile to her friend's wince. With the laser burns added to the lightning burns, she was mostly just happy she couldn’t see how bad she looked. She was guessing ‘nightmare’ didn’t even begin to describe it.
“Well, as far as people with burns all across their body that I still know go, you do look the prettiest.”
“Gee, thanks!” Weiss shot back with a grumpy look.
Kazooie just chuckled in response. “Well, can’t be that bad if you’re snarkin’ back at me!” She teased, an undercurrent of concern shooting through.
The Hollow sighed in response. “Listen, Kazooie…” She managed, using the girl’s name with a smile as she looked the bird in the eye.
“What is it? If you’re about to say something like ‘leave me alone here, friend’... It’s not happening. A lot of these people do not look nearly as fun to hang out with. And that last one smelled like onions and farts.”
Weiss gave a slight smile at that last one. He did smell pretty bad. It wasn’t something Weiss really focused on at the moment, but the thought was funny enough to get a laugh, and then a chuckle, before turning into a full, snorty laugh as she fell back against the leafy walls of the thicket.
“Y’alright? I don’t think the joke was that funny.”
“Ahaha! You’re probably rii-hii-hiiight!” Weiss managed to choke out through laughing fits. “It’s probably the pain or the blood loss! Aha!”
“Ahh. yeah. That makes sense.” kazooie managed with a wince. “Well, uhhh… hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but that looks… not so uninfected.” She added, pointing, but not actually touching, Weiss’s arm.
Weiss turned her attention to the arm, careful not to double over laughing, and the sight brought her back to sobriety instantly. Her entire left arm was a blackened mass of misshapen tissue with bits sticking out Weiss did not want to think about, but certain gaping holes were turning colors Weiss knew they weren’t supposed to, and it wasn’t long before she realized she was looking at her eventual cause of death.
And that left one thing for her to do now.
“Kazooie…” She managed, a frog entering her throat.
“I’m not going to leave you behind, if that’s where you’re about to go with this.” The feisty bird insisted, suddenly more insistent.
“...We’re on a death island. I don’t actually think you’d be any safer that way. I, uhhh…”
Weiss swallowed. “I was actually hoping you could, uhm, help make sure I stay around.” She added, looking to her lone companion. “...I, well, this thing, it’s, I mean, my arm is…”
“Banjo-Kablooie?” She suggested?
“...You really need to sit down and tell me who that is, at some point.” Weiss managed with a very strained smile. “But I need you to.. C-ch… Chop it off!”
Kazooie gave her a strained smile. “...You’re sure about this?”
Weiss nodded, slowly, already not looking forward to the day.
“Well no time like the present, let’s get this done!”
A chainsaw revved as Kazooie stood up, favored weapon in hand, and Weiss slowly raised her good arm to motion to stop, backing away a half step. “N-n-no!”
“What? Come on, this thing’ll remove an arm!”
“Yeah, it’ll also kill me in the process!” Weiss added, pushing herself back another step.
“Relax! I was just kidding.”
“I think I’ve got enough organ damage without adding heart failure from shock to the list!” Weiss managed with a groan.
“Okay, okay, Ice Queen.” Kazooie smiled, though she didn’t seem to lose her grin. She seemed to be of the opinion she’d put Weiss in a better mood with this little stunt.
She had, but Weiss didn’t actually want to give her the satisfaction, as she turned over onto her ‘good’ side.
“Now, listen, we’re going to need a wedge, and some sanitation materials…
--------
It took a few hours for Weiss and Kazooie to gather the required materials - Her Avian friend did a lot of the heavy lifting herself, despite Weiss’s protests, likely because the latter looked like a living corpse.
“So hey, speaking of..” Kazooie asked the Huntress, as the two sat in the thicket again. Unlike before, there was a soft, relatively solid surface underneath them, taken from some old canvas they’d managed to scrounge off the island.
“Speaking of…?” Weiss asked. She was laying perfectly still, arm outstretched and properly tourniqueted in preparation for this impromptu operation.
Kazooie took a second to reply, wiping the stone hatchet they’d cobbled together for this. Doing it in one swift motion seemed like the best way to do it given the circumstances. They didn’t have a saw, and metallurgy wasn’t a skill either of them knew, so it was this or… the chainsaw.
Weiss swallowed hard at the thought of that.
“I was just wondering why I haven’t seen you sleep since we got here.”
Weiss sighed. “Oh. Uhh… I don’t exactly… do that anymore. I just look human, but a while back…” Weiss sighed. “A while back, I was experimented on by some woman by the name of Sai-”
Weiss’s story was interrupted as she felt a sharp, slicing pain through her arm and instinctively tried to roll away, only stopping when Kazooie put her hands around Weiss’s shoulder and held her down.
“It’s okay, shhh…” Kazooie managed, throwing the Axe away as Weiss rolled on her back and the Bird was quick to hold her down. It took a minute for Weiss to stop struggling, allowing Kazooie to let the girl go without worry of the huntress injuring herself.
Weiss’s remaining hand clenched tightly in a fist as she felt it all hit her. Everything hurt, absolutely everything, and the throbbing pain in her arm before managed to just get worse, even though she knew it wasn’t there anymore. Her body screamed with all its might about the missing appendage, making absolutely sure Weiss knew, just in case, that her arm had suddenly disappeared.
“...Damnit! Goddamnit!” Weiss managed, as the pain hit her all at once. Between the loss of the arm, and the burns across her body, the fractures in her hand, the burns from the lightning, the burns from Caustic’s laser, everything that had happened in Kraw, everything that had struck her in the omniverse…
All of it hit her at once, as she was finally forced to stop, as her feet were finally refusing to walk, and the veteran huntress temporarily retreated to let the nineteen year old girl underneath finally feel emotion.
For the first time in a long time, Weiss felt tears freely streaming down her face, and she didn’t even try to stop them, as she curled up on the canvas.
“Hey hey hey, you did good.” Kazooie encouraged, already cleaning the wound, cooing softly to deal with the shock. For all her snark and banter, not even she was willing to give Weiss Sass for this one - at least, not immediately. “Here, let me move you. Get this cleaned up…” She added quietly, moving Weiss without much fuss.
It took a few minutes before Kazooie said anything else, as she did her faithful duty of cleaning up the wound, moving Weiss to a clean-ish spot, and holding the huntress for a moment as she went through the feeling.
“How are you feeling?” She finally asked.
“A-a…” Weiss managed, finding her voice again, though it was far quieter than usual. “Ab-b-bout twenty p-pounds lighter.” The girl stuttered out in a small voice, one she struggled to keep higher than a hoarse whisper.
“You’ve got barely any energy, and you still found enough time to make a terrible joke. You’re really ruining that whole ‘ice queen’ persona your outfit gives off.
“I think I probably lost that when I cried like a baby.” Weiss managed with a slight smile.
“Well, if anyone watching says you’re a baby after this, we’ll just cut off their arms and then see if they cry any less!”
Weiss gave a snort of derision, and the two exchanged a pair of hopeful smiles.
"Doctor! I may not have been able to save Papa, but I can save you!" A painful jolt went through my body, delivered by gentle gloved hands. The pain I was feeling from multiple accumulated wounds was washed back to an annoying background buzz. I opened my eyes to see a graceful angel of mercy, raising a gloved hand towards her face. "Natalie... I'm....s-s-"
The words exited my throat as a disgusting wad of singed flesh and mucus as she disappeared and I rolled over on my side. Vomiting with the sudden sting of weeks worth of battle condensed into two days brought ne out of the useless fantasy that passed for a dying vision. I pulled the melted wreckage of my facial equipment from my face, gingerly feeling the many missing teeth in my mouth with my tongue. The skin and flesh on my face was burned and raw, and the pain was almost enough to affect my movement rate at this point.
Nevertheless, I was always prepared. The outer layer of my clothing had been burned and shredded by the albino girl's anomalous attack. I filed her face away for later when this contest was over. Heaving to my feet, I looked around to make sure no one was near and staggered forward to a hidden cleft in a boulder. Sagging back against the rock, I began to pull the threading and cloth from my outer coat.
When I was finished, my face was almost entirely wrapped in bandages like a mummy. Only my eyes could be seen through the dirty green bandages, but at least my ruined face would be safe from dust or stinging wind. The child had burned off my lips, and I'd opted to keep the rictus grin covered. Too exposed of a weak point, although I would relish the fear on my next victim's face when I finished them.
Something was wrong. The Ghostly Duo stared skyward, watching the ominous weather for a moment. Between the silent purple lightning, the dark clouds, and the low grumble of static in the air, neither of them could argue that this was no normal thunderstorm.
"So… uh… we should probably find a hidey hole to wait this out, huh?" Gengar said, worry replacing the normal mischievous tone of his voice.
"Take it from a ghost, this is some real spooky stuff."
Flame a bright yellow, and eye darting left to right as it followed the streaks of lavender lightning in the sky, The Prisoner slowly nodded an affirmation and the two picked up a much quicker pace as they began their hunt for a suitable shelter from the storm.
What little tolerant banter existed between the two synthetics before that massive mountain top brawl had vanished into thin air. Again Revenant had withdrawn into himself, answering only with scarce few words or a terse grunt of assertion. Every time that damn MRVN piped up about friendship this or friend that, the nightmarish hitman felt the phantom sensation of bile rising in the back of his non-existent throat. He was sent reeling back in acrid reflex at the scout's ridiculous level of optimism, every damn time.
Night fell quickly across the island, the clouds twisting up with corrupt and foreboding purple swirls. Flashes of lightning arced, branching across the gloomy skies. The infernally incessant whiny keen of static wormed its way into his mind, seeming to scrape against every inch of metal his body was composed of. It was a fey and feral sensation that set him on edge, his ghastly eyes never paused their roving and his dead limbs refused to sit perfectly still.
He let out a wild snarl and sent his hand straight through the trunk of an innocent tree in his temper. Things were crawling all over him, prickling his phantom skin with pin points. Why did he taste the familiar coppery profile of blood? Why did it feel like he had a tongue that was heavy and swollen in his cotton-dry mouth? He was losing his mind. He didn't have a damn tongue, he didn't even have a damn mouth. This island and this electrical storm played tricks on his wires, danced fake images into his core processor and set his code into a rambling, agitated mess. His back ached, his false flesh stung when fizzling sparks popped from his cloven joints. He'd ripped his badly mangled jump pack from his back once they'd scurried off into cover. That event was a mistake in a few ways, but at least he'd gotten to see a taste of the competition. That was orders of magnitude more than he'd managed to learn while wandering the countryside with his preppy side-kick.
He'd been only slightly surprised to come across Wraith and Mirage, two of the other Apex Legends. Wraith was just as stoic as he'd remembered, he'd never really been able to get under her skin- she was as cold and uncompromising as the void in that sense and for that she'd earned just a smidge of his respect. Mirage on the other hand... Mirage was the total opposite; scared, easy to intimidate and obviously trying desperately to play it all cool. If he was in a better mood he would've chuckled.
Instead he glared across the clearing at his partner, Pathfinder, who busied himself by checking along the side of the road that ran past the edge of the meadow, sporting a boombox he'd manage to snag from somewhere during the borderline free-for-all. The device belted some catchy popish techno, marred with warbling from the weather's interference, and vibrated against the MRVN's frame. Occasionally sparks shot from the droid's damaged frame, but the pep in his step had yet to diminish.
Finally the simulacra broke his silence, "hey slag heap, how do you stomach that optimism?" His question was dripping with condescension, unintentional or not his partner couldn't tell.
"It's always better to look on the bright side, friend!" His optic cast a dim ruddy orange light across the asphalt. His mechanics whirred as he swished and swayed to the beat, his screen flickering between several variants of smiley faces and dancing people emoticons.
"I don't see why."
"Well friend, I wouldn't be here otherwise! When I woke up in that abandoned warehouse I had one purpose, to find my creator. I just know they're out there somewhere, so there's no point in giving up hope!" A gear in his shoulder caught, clicking and sparking haphazardly, causing his screen to cut in and out at random.
"Hope. Hope is such a funny, fleeting thing, ain't it." Rev mused coyly, studying the tips of his silvery fingers. They'd been scuffed and scratched up countless times over the past three days. "What's the point in hoping for something that'll never come." His inquiry was unforgivingly flat, and yet carried with it the sighing discontentment of weariness in it's grating subharmonics. "Why do you have faith in your creator? They abandoned you, built you up, gave you a mind and then left you to rust away in a scrap pile."
Path's optic dropped from the synth's face dejectedly, trying to find purchase somewhere while he computed an explanation, but the mercenary was unrelenting. "Skinsuits are all the same. They go as far as they can with their little creations, doing everything in their power to get the edge up on each other before you're abandoned, left to decay, forgotten in some crumbling factory." The MRVN's shoulders slumped, his optic darting around more. "You're not special, no one is coming to find you- just like me. My Frankenstein's have been dead for centuries."
"I'm not like you, friend." The scout asserted, attempting to push his chest out like he'd seen countless heroes do before, yet his fingers still fidgeted along the handle of the boombox, tattling on his anxiety. "I choose to have hope! Nothing you say will take that away from me."
The robotic hitman leered forwards and let out a ravenous laugh. "We'll see about that."
The battle frenzied stride of Dekugo was erratic but certain, carrying their battered frame through the divot where two hills met. They headed...in some direction. They weren’t even sure anymore. Usually, after the battle, either one of their selves who were no more would begin to calm down. Once the adrenaline subsided there was a period of worked up reflection and then the calm after the battle. ...this time, however, the adrenaline didn’t seem to be subsiding. Their forehead still burned hot, and though they were certain they’d been beaten viciously about the head and neck...the pain felt like it was coming at them through another room. As if it were happening to someone else, and they were watching.
“What is happening to us?” asked the Prince(ss), shaking their head off like a wet dog to ward away some of the strange fog hanging over them like a mantle.
It did not disperse. Focus was difficult, however, they took a moment to stoop and gather their breath. Whatever that thing had been, the tiny pale little...whatever the fuck it was, it had put up FAR more of a fight than anticipated. After the slew of battles they’d been in both as formers as their present self, it was hard to size up those other frays and then the surreal chaos of their last encounter. That wretched little urchin had dared…! The part of them that was born from Bakugo fumed, while the part of them that was Deku railed against the haze of the virus to try and impart some empathy.
He wasn’t winning that fight.
Unbeknown to both of them the Sigma Virus ravaged their system, and moment to moment a growing irritation was blossoming into an unquiet anger that threatened to consume their better judgement. Thinking back to the moments before the fight, the individual who’d entered into the fray seemed almost a different person than how they felt now. Thinking back even further to the fight before that seemed...too difficult. Too far away.
Now they had all the power they could ask for between the Crown and the combined entity they’d become.
Yet, their control over this body seemed to be dwindling away into nothing.
Princess Dekugo fought hard to focus their attention on the ruby red lens of the scouter. For a moment, they were certain that there was something there...a reflection of a robot they’d both encountered. Sigma, and he was smirking. He gazed back at them from the lens of the scouter and every bit of the arrogance and presumption he’d carried with him in life leered at the fusion. It mocked. It taunted. But most importantly, it pissed them right off.
“Fuck! OFF!” bellowed Dekugo, casting a trio of angry explosions out ahead. At this point, they were not concerned who knew where they were. What could the others do to them at this point, anyway? “You robot ass-hat!”
In the wake of the explosions they created, the ringing in their ears subsided until only the odd white noise that had carpeted the island accompanied them. The noise, and the spectre of the fallen Sigma, whose essence was now a part of them. It was as if there were really three of them inside of this body, now, and things had become WAY too crowded.
Using what was left of their waning concentration, the three of them took a hasty measure of the scouter and saw that there were people everywhere and they were all very close. What was left of the map seemed so small now that they could hardly guess where the time had gone. ...it felt like months ago when they’d waited out the storm in that swampy city on the outskirts of the island.
Now there was only the bloody no man’s land in the center of the island, the no man’s land that would become Dekugo’s final battlefield soon. They hefted the Chicago Typewriter over one shoulder and strode towards a nearby blip on the scouter, ready to use the gun and their immense power to type out the final chapters of the other competitors’ stories.
…Were full? Precious, we was confused for quite a whiles, yes we was. The burning aching in our bowels had ceased? We did not hunger… we did not thirst… not for water at least. We almost drifted away, precious, almost right to sleep we did, but there were two things we needed first.
First, we needed the Precious. We did not hunger, but still we craved it. We were no longer empty as normal, but we still felt a hole, yes precious… a cold spot where the precious would fit… yes… We were cold. We realized it suddenly. Not hungry, not thirsting, but so cold, precious, so very cold. we was colder than the rocks, precious, colder than the blackness of the night around us. We was frigid, precious, freezing so that a fire burned inside us. A cold flame, pale like our eyeses…
We lifted ourselves out of the rocks, precious. We did not stand up, we did not crawl away with curses, no… We lifted ourselves. Elbows and kneeses pulled upward like stringses! Our head hung down precious, our eyeballs faced the stones, but we could still see. We knew our place, precious, we saw the darkness of the pale face as it set. There was little time to wait, precious, the red face would be up soon, back to burn our poor, tired, skin.
First we needed the Precious. The Precious was always first, yes, yes. But second! Second precious, we needed revenge! The tricksey turtle would not get away from us, no precious, we would makes it pay! We would bury it in the rocks! quickly now, precious, We must be quick! before it sneaks away from us! No time to wait, no times to ponders! We must haves their blood!
We lifted and drifted, moving over the stonses on the very tips of our feet, precious. We walks so different now! No more crawling in the muck and the mud, no! We moves from elbows now, from kneeses! So light and so easy, we hardly leaves a footfall! The hairy turtle, they was heavy, yes precious… their shell would not let them run far… We would finds them, then pry loose the spines from their shell one by one! We thinks on this and we laughs, precious, we cannot wait to find them! Our head still lolled, no stringses for holding our poor head, but we still lets loose a wail of joy at the hunt. It echoes amongs the foothills. The stormy gale takes our voice, tries to steal it from us, but we sing the stronger!
Face-off
#001 The Prisoner & #003 Gengar vs #010 Weiss
With Kazooie’s help, Weiss slowly trudged along. Crossing the river had been the hard part, with the bird girl needing to hoist up her partner and carry her across in a section of shallows. ‘Shallows’ in the sense that they had ‘only’ come up to her waist, at any rate.
After that, thankfully, there was only more or less open and even ground to get through. It made the going much easier, but left them a whole heck of a lot more open to the bizarre storm brewing overhead.
“Hey, uh...thinkin’ we oughta try and find somewhere to hole up for a bit, keep outta this storm?” Kazooie finally asked, after what felt like an hour. It had only been a few minutes, in truth.
“I don’t think...there’s anywhere really safe out here,” the huntress groaned. “Staying still probably wouldn’t turn out that great for us, anyway.”
“Y-Yeah...I guess…but I’m gonna keep a look out just in case.”
As poor fortune would have it, though...the first thing of note they found was not shelter of some kind. It was other contestants. Out here in this open field there was nowhere to hide to avoid them, and they were both too worn out to try and make a run for it in their current state.
Both of the odd pairs just resolutely marched forward, shifting course to beeline directly for the other.
“This time, this time it’s gonna go our way,” Gengar cackled, ghostly hands flexing with glee. He could see how haggard and worn down their foes were this time; no way they were winning or getting away alive!
The Prisoner merely drew both of its swords into hand and stalked forward silently, the pupil in its flame head shifting into a determined look.
Without further prompting, Kazooie hefted Weiss up onto her back courtesy of the backpack’s straps, and brandished the chainsaw before her threateningly as she warily continued on. If it did anything to deter the undead duo, they didn’t show it.
They clashed in the middle of the grassy field, chainsaw manically striking and screeching and spitting sparks as the bird crazily waved it around, barely managing to fend off the other two.
But she couldn’t do it for long. All it took was one bad rebound from a shimmering blue barrier created by the Prisoner, and she was wide open to a sudden lunge. The blade of Yojimbo’s summoning sword sent her staggering back, and in an effort to not topple over onto her partner she threw herself to one side. The pair of them hit the ground roughly, the blue backpack slipping free of Weiss’s remaining arm as they tumbled along.
It was the Prisoner who closed in first, hefting Anubis over its head to prepare for a killing blow on the downed avian woman. But the jackal-headed spirit materialized and yowled at him. “Not that one, you idiot! She’s not a competitor!” And he whipped an arm out to point at Weiss. “That one! That’s the actual target!”
The corpse-candle was left confused for a moment, its gaze simply sweeping between the two for a moment before it just shrugged and instead dashed over to the huntress as she tried desperately to regain her feet, and struck. A vicious, downward chop that missed by only inches, carving a huge gash into the ground.
That swiftly escalated into a series of strikes in pursuit, slashing and stabbing wildly with Anubis as Weiss rolled and hopped and barely deflected them with her remaining arm, the Hierro empowering it producing cascades of sparks with every such action. But soon...with the Stand gaining a more pronounced grin, droplets of blood began to join the sparks, as the Prisoner struck harder, faster, and more precise; targeting already present wounds, and making unpredictable manuevers.
Finally...there were no sparks, and only a shower of blood as the blade carved a long, clean wound down the huntress’s arm and nearly split it in two, before a sharp knee strike doubled her over and silenced the scream of pure agony from her. A follow-up strike removed the limb entirely at the shoulder, and in spite of Kazooie’s screech of protest as she desperately grappled with the ghost just a few feet away…
...a final downward strike with Anubis relieved Weiss of her head. And of her continued suffering.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The breegul shrieked, tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes. It might have only been for a few days, but dammit, Weiss was a good kid. Definitely didn’t deserve this shit. And they were well on their way to becoming friends, she could just feel it. And this...well, something like this just really ruffled her feathers.
She didn’t even reach for the chainsaw, just shoved completely past Gengar with a surge of adrenaline, bowling the ghost completely over with a sharp “oof!” from him as he was sent tumbling, and she leaped into a flying tackle at the much larger undead.
Taken by surprise, the pupil in his flame briefly burst into something resembling an exclamation mark as he was floored completely, weapons flying from his hands as Kazooie desperately, and mostly futilely, battered him with a series of punches.
Unbeknownst to all of them, Tenseiga spun through the air and its blade ‘sliced’ cleanly through Weiss’s body. A faint ethereal ripple rose through the grass around her, and numerous tiny voices rang out in terror as something fled. And the surgically clean cut which had taken her head mended itself as if it had never been.
She was shortly blasted away by a Shadow Ball from the other half of the ghostly due, and a sneering Gengar returned the Prisoner’s dropped swords to him. “C’mon, pal, we’re done here. Let’s go!” he snickered, sticking his tongue out at the still enraged bird before he and his companion dashed away into the storm.
13 Contestants Remain
Per Jeff’s request, Tenseiga has been accidentally used to revive Weiss.
Weiss has been eliminated...but revived thanks to accidental use of Tenseiga. She has suffered the loss of her remaining arm, but the ‘injury’ portion of it has been erased by the revival.
Gengar and the Prisoner have sustained only a few minor bruises and batterings (Story Injury), but no serious damage.
