Day 2

[Sandor Clegane]

To her west, the corruption had washed over the land in a tsunami of grotesque Unmaking. Where the landscape she’d experienced up until this point had been marred in spots with pock marks of the unpleasant darkness, and the forest wore signs of death and undoing, the landscape to her left was something else entirely. Untraversable, not really a landscape at all…more like a surreal figment straight out of a dream, or a nightmare.

She kept it off to one side as she headed North. In a way it was useful – her map had indicated that the Unmaking stretched across the island in a direct line North to South. By always having the corrupt zone to her left, she could navigate without drawing out her map.

The Tiefling’s right leg had begun to grow sore and tired from overuse. Just the sheer amount of walking she’d done over the last twenty-four hours alone would be enough to exhaust someone on its own, but favoring one leg over the other due to the hole in her foot had done her dominant leg no favors. There was a noticeable lag in Jester’s gait, and dark circles under her eyes marred her usually spritely features. She hadn’t slept in over a day, at this point.

Something up ahead, however, brought back some of the light in her eyes. Jester straightened a little, and even let her hand come away from Caster.

“Oh, boy!” she exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air at the cost of a ripple of pain across her criss-crossed torso. “Hot dog!”

With some pep in her step Jester hoofed it double time towards the Safehouse. How it’d gotten here she could scarcely imagine, but here it was none-the-less! And maybe the squish-face, Christine, and the weird guy had found their way in there as well! They had to have, they wouldn’t have just left unannounced. Surely they’d be waiting to meet her, and what better place?

Jester found her way to the mouth of the safehouse and was greeted with a familiar grunt. She gave him a nod while also taking note of the fact that he looked…grave. Ominously so.

The Cleric quirked an eyebrow as she passed him by and entered the bunker.

Once inside, she found Sergeant Swift immediately – the soldier was turning the corner right into the entryway.

“Sergeant!” exclaimed Jester, relieved. “Are they here!? The squish-face, and Christine, and that weird guy!?”

The Sergeant’s face, too, grew stony.

“I…think you’d better come with me.”

---

Jester stood in the door to the make-shift infirmary, face stark white, and stared in at the thing she’d feared the most. Slurt lay upon a stretcher, mutilated, and even sleeping his breath came in rasping heaves. His face was nearly unrecognizable with the marks of blunt force trauma, and though he slept, his expression was unmistakably agonized.

Christine and Kolith sat nearby in two chairs turned towards one another, huddled in quiet and intense conversation. They stopped when Jester entered and turned to look at the Cleric.

They did not look good.

The concave where Christine’s neck met her shoulder had been, well, caved in. It was obscene to look at. Additionally, Jester noticed that the specter’s eyes seemed glazed and unfocused, and her breathing seemed to be coming in struggled gasps rather than the smooth inhale-exhale a healthy set of lungs would produce.

Kolith looked, if anything, worse. A harsh diagonal line began above his eye and snaked its way down his face, then across his chest, and it looked vicious. Jester wasn’t even sure what could cause an injury like that…bound though it was there was no stopping the bleeding.

“Jester,” Christine began, her voice harsher and raspier than it had been previously. “We need to talk.”

They filled her in on the battle. …it had been almost entirely one-sided, with their little rag-tag group on the receiving end of a merciless beatdown. Kolith had managed to get them out of there, but…the cost was dear.

Jester’s eyes locked onto the squish-face, whose visage now exemplified the nickname she’d given him. She made a mental note to avoid using that sobriquet for the goblin child in the future, then turned her steely pink eyes upon Christine and Kolith.

Rather than defeat, those pink eyes were brimming with determination.

“I have a plan,” stated Jester simply, pounding a fist into her hand.

“A plan?” asked Kolith, his injured face blanketed with skepticism. “We are not in very good shape…what kind of plan could you-“

“A great plan,” Jester asserted, cutting him off. Despite the grimness of the situation, she offered them a reassuring grin. “A really, really great plan. One that can keep you guys alive, and the squi-uh…and Slurt. You see, everybody is going after those orb things, and everybody wants to get off of this battleground pretty badly. I think everybody thinks that they can only get out of here alive if everybody else is dead, right? But I saw the drawer where those thingies go, and there is room for seven of them. What if there was room for like, seven of us, and we could all get out alive?”

Her two companions stared at her, curious but cautious, and silent above all else.

“Maybe we are here at this safehouse now of all times for a reason,” Jester said, looking into Christine’s eyes first, and then Kolith’s. Maybe it is the will of the Traveler. “Maybe it is all so we can get out of here together. …I am going to begin canvasing this safehouse, and I am going to see if I can find more people to join us. We can have strength in numbers, and if we run into those two that did this to you guys, we will have like, a shit ton of people with us and we will kick them in the dick.”

“I don’t think that the second one had a-“

Jester cut Kolith off again. “You guys get some rest. I will start walking the halls of this place, and see if I can assemble like…a super group. A whole group of people who all want to get out of here together.”

She sprung to her feet, enthused, but cringed as all of her collective injuries gave her body a jolt of painful protest. Ignoring that, and the gradually accumulating exhaustion that was starting to take its toll on her, Jester turned on her good heel and left the room.

“Jester, maybe you should try to get some res-“

…once I’m done with this.

The Tiefling closed the door on her friends, and felt her fob vibrate in her pack. She reached in, pulled it out, then suddenly remembered.

“Oh, yeah. The thing.”

She shrugged, and looked at the fob, then placed a hand on Caster.

“…we might need it.”

She thumbed down her fob, then vanished.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#11 Jester, #26 McNinja & #02 Trevor O’Skully vs #25 Kefka vs #10 Riddick vs #03 Deadpool & #20 Nico Cinder vs #13 Toga
Easter Egg: The Malefactor​

The situation had gone sour quickly for Trevor O’Skully. Run-ins with two sneering, smooth-talking women had left him bloodied and mangled, but this wasn’t quite the end of the road for him. He knew from his very limited research that none of these people had information on Jak Mar, but at the very least, the teleportation fob had dropped him close enough to the cleric, who he had sought earlier in the day.

“You don’t look well,” the Tiefling muttered as the man shook his head and silently gestured for her not to get any closer. He had improvised some bandages, but the blue-skinned woman could tell at a distance he didn’t have the best method. “Not a big talker?” She whispered as she looked around. From what she could tell, they were about fifty yards down the shockingly gentle slope of an … active volcano? Jester could spot the tell-tale plumes of purple smoke, but there was other smoke in the skies.

“We’re exposed here,” Trevor whispered as he readied the Proto Buster.

“I agree,” Jester muttered as she reached up and cleared away some of the small beads of sweat that had started to form there. She told herself that they were from the heat and nothing else. “Let’s move fast,” she added. “We just need to get the package and get far enough away.”

“Then we should hurry,” a third voice replied, as the twosome turned to see a frowning Dr. McNinja already starting to walk passed them on his way up to the lip of the volcano.

“Wait up,” Jester rasped as she a slightly hobbled Trevor followed the masked man.

At the top of the volcano, a sneering mad man laughed as he scooped up the heavy capsule. “Fools,” he snickered to himself as he smacked the latches on the device. “Too easy.”

“That right?” A deep voice calmly intoned as a glaring Kefka slowly turned to see a bald-headed man with a spectral sidearm. “The way I see it? You have two choices. One,”

Kefka threw the case into Riddick’s’ face as the mad tyrant rushed him. Leaning away from the case as it smacked into the ground and skittered a few feet away, Riddick eased back on the trigger and shook his head as the clown went down in a smoldering heap. Turning around without noticing that the groaning clown was fumbling in his bag, the bounty hunter frowned as he saw the child scurry off with the capsule.

“No shit,” Riddick remarked as he caught sight of the other three edging their way up to the flat surface that surrounded the mouth of the volcano.

Jester saw Slurt and didn’t know whether she should feel relief or something else.

“I got it!” the goblin shouted as he reached the trio and smiled. “The bad man’s here, though!”

The cleric took a knee next to her companion and frowned almost immediately. “How did you heal your jaw?”

Slurt frowned as he sent the business end of his power drill into Jester’s eye.

The most awful, horrible scream gurgled up from the blue-skinned girl’s mouth as the drill tore through muscle and bone and near through the brain matter before a lightsaber sawed off the little goblin’s hand. The child shrieked as a blast from the Proto Buster sent him careening down the slope of the volcano, and by the time Slurt came to a stop, he was a teenage woman with a deranged grin on her face.

Riddick, who had watched the scene unfold with not a small amount of morbid curiosity, fired the BFG, scattering the three as the blast exploded into the dirt near their feet. The explosion also shook loose the previously assaulted hinges of the capsule, and the container cracked open, spilling out the fancy glass contraption that house the seething mass of malice writhing within it.

For the second time, the bounty hunter felt himself pausing to assess an increasingly unstable situation. What the fuck was that?

Kefka took the moment to leap onto Riddick’s back. The clown went for the bounty hunter’s eyes, but their tussle came to an abrupt end when a rocket narrowly missed hitting him square in the chest. Instead, the projectile erupted at their feet and sent both over and into the mouth of the volcano.

Trevor made for the container housing the Malefactor. Unsure of what it was, he lifted it up and considered twisting what seemed to be the latch.

“You might want to reconsider that, ‘Trevor’,” Deadpool remarked. “Don’t you read? One hit of that and you won’t retain any of your humanity. You’ll become a living nova of malevolent thoughts that only Coors light can contain.”

The lightsaber punched through flesh, and a confused Deadpool threw his head back with a groan. “The dick, guy? Now I don’t regret the next part.”

Already at close range, Deadpool lurched forward, smacked the container from Trevor’s grip, and grabbed the man into a big hug. A moment later, the rocket exploded into a momentarily immobilized shadow assassin’s back.

Destruction properly dispensed, Nico Cinder jogged up the side of the volcano, but he found himself cut off by the last wall of defense.

“A doctor?” Nico replied. “But… a ninja?”

“Dr. McNinja,” the man intoned. Earlier on, he may have had some type of comedic retort, but the last few days had been less than ideal for the Good Doctor.

“Neat,” Nico muttered as he pulled the trigger.

Instead of an explosion, the young adult got to watch as the ninja grabbed the rocket out of midair. For a moment, McNinja seemed to stare at the sputtering rocket as if he was shocked himself, but then he quickly tossed it over his shoulder before wincing as the explosion spattered his back with flecks of dirt.

“Holy shit, dude!” Nico declared. “You are a ninja!”

“I also have a gun,” McNinja deadpanned as he drew Caster and fired. The magic-infused round hit Nico in the hip and exploded with a puff of ice shards. With Nico momentarily downed, McNinja turned his focus back to the Malefactor.

Gone.

In the distance, an idiot in red spandex.

McNinja moved to give chase when he the shuffle of metal once again. Turning his head, he frowned once again at a smiling Nico.

“Dodge this.”

Spoiler

Riddick used 1 application of Focus
Kefka used 1 application of Focus
Nico used 1 application of Focus
Deadpool used 1 application of Focus
Dr McNinja used 1 application of Focus
Toga used 1 application of Focus
Trevor was pressured into 1 application of Focus

Jester has no vision in her left eye, a permanent ringing in her head, and mild brain damage (Insane Injury)
Riddick has some scrapes, burns and bruises on his legs and possibly some light fractures in both toes (just a Minor Injury)
Kefka has extensive burns along his legs, feet, and hips (Major Injury)
Trevor took a rocket to the lack (Major Injury)
Toga’s missing her left hand (Insane injury)
Deadpool took a lightsaber to the dick and naturally absorbed some burns and bruises (Major Injury)
Nico took a glancing bullet wound to the left side of his hip (Minor Injury) and he’ll have some scrapes and lose of sensation from the cold magic (Story Injury)
McNinja has some burns and bruises (just a Minor Injury)

Deadpool and Nico Cinder* win the Malefactor.

*just to spare myself, Nico is ultimately receiving this item

 

[Karl Jak]

Updates:
Demetri receives a Minor Injury
Demetri receives 'Wingman' revolver.

I'll let you write the resolution in your next post (the actual scene was A+ -- and that's from Karl-Karl and Alex-Karl)

A new boss has surfaced! Please 'PING' if you would like this location. This boss will not move. This is the last boss where I won't 'force' people to write a fight scene (so this is me revealing that the two final bosses will require writing on behalf of the 'party' so RIP jaed)

 

[Fennec Shand]

The inimitable Demetri will most likely write a conclusion to the F2F above, so clarifying that this takes place… after whatever that ends up being.

Fennec was… annoyed.

Demetri, if that was even his real name, was not exactly what she’d imagined when she’d thought about finding a traveling partner. He was all talk and only an ordinate amount of walk — and she’d been aiming for inordinate, in that regard. The cultist boy hadn’t exactly been her speed, but at least the hunter had carried some stage presence; as the pair of them finally reached the foothills of the volcano, she was starting to regret tagging along with the thief instead of following the creepy duo wherever they’d run off to.

Speaking of: “We need to get out of here,” she stated flatly. Demetri quirked his head slightly to look at her, for a moment taking his focus off the revolver he’d just snatched from the mouth of a literal volcano-dweller. He’d taken to spinning it around his finger in his idleness, and now looked to try and bite back at Fennec with some inevitably stupid alternative plan. But she wasn’t wasting any time discussing their options. “The activity up there will have undoubtedly drawn someone to our position. We’ve been in this area long enough — we’ve got to go.”

Demetri didn’t argue any further, but simply nodded. Fennec was nothing if not authoritative, and her seriousness was genuine enough that, for the moment, he seemed to take her urgency to heart.

They struck off, then, through the woods, Fennec leading the way. Somehow, it always turned out this way — she kept useful men on a short leash, patiently awaiting the moment when they could reach their peak usefulness. She’d been searching all her life for the man that could prove he’d be worth her while for more than just one chance opportunity, and had yet to meet them. Upon her first inspection of Demetri, he didn’t seem like he’d break the mold; but she kept him around nonetheless.

What could she say? She saw potential in him. Amidst the deadly seriousness of Gascoigne and Sigmund, his brighter personality was, admittedly, annoying, but also a breath of fresh air — at least he wasn’t a still-beating zoid heart, or shouting nonsense about ‘killing beasts.’

She had to admit, though… the hunter and his young protege weren’t half bad. They’d proved useful against Steppenwolf, and would undoubtedly prove useful again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Fennec.

She cursed at herself, and placed a hand to her forehead, slapping it lightly. She knew better than this. She’d made it almost six decades without wasting her time with partners or friends — why, suddenly, stranded in the Wastes of Cevanti, was she dwelling on other people?

She’d answered her own question, of course. She’d been through a lot in nearly sixty years, but she’d never been through this. She’d never been stranded in the most inhospitable parts of a planet — her home planet — and left to her own devices, abandoned, expected to fight her way out through hordes of the most fearsome creatures the galaxy had ever known. Next to Steppenwolf and the unmade, Gascoigne looked tame. Next to them, the cultist boy looked positively agnostic. Next to them, the scruffy thief looked almost attractive.

“You doing alright their, Fennec?” Demetri piped up from a few meters behind her. “It is Fennec, yeah?”

“I’m fine,” she shrugged, not looking back at him.

For a moment, they lived in silence as she hacked away at more vines in their path. “We’re stuck together now, you know,” Demetri finally said, drifting ever so slightly more serious than Fennec had yet seen him, “the least you could do is talk to me.”

Fennec stopped, and turned toward him. She started to say something snide, but the words caught in her throat, and she let out a deep, sharp sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she smirked. “I’m just… forming a plan of action. Trying to figure out the best way to… take full advantage of my potential.”

Demetri smiled. “Ah,” he grinned, “so the cards spoke to you, eh?”

She smacked him on the shoulder with her bad arm. They both winced, chuckled ever so slightly, and then… kept moving. Moving and moving and moving, as Dante’s Abyss contestants were wont to do.

Moving towards what, though?

Fennec could only wonder, but surprisingly enough? She found herself getting the slightest bit excited to find out.

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara saw the influx of wounded with a shock briefly flitting over her eyes. The adorable goblin boy, beaten to unconsciousness, beaten to living torment. Christine, Kolith, the whole group looked more like a set of ER Patients with their level of injuries. Whatever the recent outing, it went bad, and it went bad fast.

Chara’s breathing was patient, slow, measured as she walked up to Christine. She was afraid of letting something through if she asked about the injuries, or about Slurt’s condition, so she didn’t.

“who?”

“Caustic and Lilith.” Christine answered quickly, and Chara gave a short nod.

“Patch yourself up while you are in here. Keep an eye on the kid - they like to go missing when it’s least expected.” Chara would add with a perfectly plastic smile, before turning outside. “Directions?”

Christine looked up to her. “...I recall someone promising she’d be the god-mother here, if something were to happen to me?”

“So I did. Guess that means I have to win.” Chara replied, taking of her glasses. It was time.

“What iz your plan?”

“Oh, you know… Do my job for once.” Chara replied, a smile fake as plastic undercut by the fiery glow that entered her eyes.

a Judge. One who watches those souls left in her care and pushes them to the right choices, one who guides, observes, and ultimately decides. she was told.

you must be strong enough to make your judgements without hesitation. You must be strong enough to make them law. she was told.

She had heard the void, and she had answered with that faint yes., back then, as she had touched upon it.

Chara turned to Riddick, who hefted a bag with something considerable, and the elder Dreemurr turned to the outside door.

‘My judgement is resolute. My choice is clear. You will face the consequences of your actions.’

 

[Gildarts]

Riddick made a mental note of the names from Christine’s lips as he came around the corner. Chara was there, bidding Christine an interesting farewell. The shades of macabre were painted before the merc turned the corner.

Riddick had to see it for his own resplendent eyes. The casualties of the massacre. Something he knew already to be true.

The morose mercenary’s stride slowed as he hovered in the doorway of the infirmary room. His eyes fell on the boy first. Incapacitated, unconscious. Didn’t take a doctor to see the kid had been battered at every corner. His little face swelled with three different other colors.

The merc’s face was cool and collected but he felt his gut twist in response to the grotesque picture of injustice. Unable to show restraint, aggression drove him to storm across the room. The cause.

Christine, who couldn’t even see straight, felt the heat of his body get up in her face. The steam of his seething breath before she couldn't even drill her spinning eyes straight. She’d been pressed half against a wall sitting on a ledge next to Slurt’s bed. A tear of dried blood had hardened from the corner of her sullen lips.

Though Christine was in no shape to take it, accountability, Riddick did it anyway. He would show no mercy dishing out what was deserved. His whisper, a growl in her ear so as to not disturb the sleeping boy.

“Responsibility.” You had a responsibility. He cautiously spoke the singular word with an angered tone to the woman, who already looked two inches from death. It had just barely been over a day, “How could you possibly fuck up this bad?” Or have even let it get this bad.

Riddick’s hand rested against the wall next to her. Balling in and out of a violently angry fist. He had been talking about Slurt, of course. Christine’s wavering eyes, seeing nothing but blurred shadows made their way over to his. Inches from her own. Abyss versus pale moonstone all over again. The context this time painted a far different picture. Unfortunate for both things did not work out as they could have.

“I was too late.” She uttered softly in response as she sucked in a lifeless breath. Her eyes turned to Slurt to detect if he had stirred. “I found ‘im too late. As you can see, we both paid the price. I promised I would die for him. I continue to live for him too. ‘Owever, do not imply I ever wanted this.”

What a ridiculous excuse. Excuses were for the weak. Too late?! She should’ve done better. That was the original promise. Seemed like this murder queen had been all talk… Riddick considered this. No, he couldn’t rightly come to that conclusion. The reason being that she wore her own blood too. Likely for the sake of the boy.

“Too fucking late?” He felt his volume rising and simmered as he reeled in his tone, “Your mistake,” His whisper, viciously hissing out of his teeth. “Is gonna hang over the both of us now. You shoulda done better.”

Riddick had nothing left to say to her. He pulled away from her proximity swiftly then idled at the foot of Slurt’s bed. Casting a single remorseful glance at the death-bound child.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

As the crisp light of midday dissolved into the dusky shade of afternoon, Gascoigne’s steps began to flag.

It was only occasional in the beginning, just the slightest stumble over an unexpected stone or dip in the earth. Sigmund noticed these things but made no mention of them, at least at first— not until the good father had nearly pitched over and slid into a ravine after one missed step, a deluge of loose rocks tumbling down the hillside and into the gaping pit below with a terrific roar.

Even the old hunter seemed quite surprised by this turn of events, hunched over from where he had grasped at the ground to keep himself from falling completely over, fingers digging into the dead soil like claws. It was then that Sigmund chose to act, lest they encounter some other formidable component of Cevanti’s hostile terrain.

“Father Gascoigne,” the cultist said, coming up beside his hunting partner. “We’ve been traveling without pause for hours now. Maybe we should break for the evening.”

Gascoigne huffed, rising to his feet with a delicacy that belied his exhaustion. Refixing his hat upon his head, he slanted a sharp grin at the scion. “No need. There’ll be more beasts to lay waste to just over the horizon, mark my words. We must not let them escape our cleansing wrath...”

His eyes darting to a fro, Sigmund wracked his brain for any possible reason that might convince the older man to ease up for a moment. While the cultist himself didn’t feel any pain, and he was fairly certain Gascoigne did not either, it was clear that the hunter needed some sort of rest, perhaps even food and drink. Whatever the case was, he couldn’t carry on like this for much longer…

“Yes, yes, and that is all very well and good, but you see…” Sigmund swallowed hard, wilting a little under the full brunt of Gascoigne’s ire. He needed to make this lie the deception of the century, something believable. Unfortunately, all that came out of his mouth was: “...my foot hurts.”

There was a pause, The silver-haired hunter let out a disbelieving chuff, leering down his nose to scrutinize him closely. “Does it, now? And what happened to all your talk of ‘mind over matter,’ eh?”

Rats! He’s got me there, thought Sigmund, though the scion fought to keep his expression caaaaarefully neutral. “Well… it still wouldn’t hurt to stop for a moment of rest, would it? Just a moment, and we’ll be right back to it.”

Slowly tearing his gaze away, Gascoigne hmmmm-ed. He turned his head to regard the scarred landscape around them, the great hulks of rusted metal beasts and sundered aircraft glinting in the waning sunlight. In the distance he could just make out the towering peaks of a mountainous jungle, wisps of fine gray mist twisting in the air above them— serpentine and heavy with the promise of rain.

“...fine,” he gruffed at last, the word sounding like it’d been dragged out from his chest by meat hooks. The hunter promptly marched off, apparently already with a good resting spot in mind.

 

[Lilith]

Finally, after hours of agonizing premeditation, the sadist released her flood of adrenaline and ecstasy. The vicious encounter warmed her up, burning hot with excessive carnal appetite. Manic moans laced her fervent breathing.

"Unff, that was soooooo fucking good~ I could cum right now. I can't wait for the main event!" Hedonistic down to her soul.

"I suggest you aim any discharge in the opposite direction," stated Doctor Caustic, pocketing the plundered orb that he stole from a kid. And 3 adults, but that's beside the point. Analyzing the results of their conflict…

Room for improvement, as always. The potency of his two artifacts combined to astonishing efficiency. He almost turned that pathetic creature into a giant green nail lodged into the earth. However, he hadn't accounted for a few unexpected variables. Namely, the arrival of an opportunist. Complete elimination cut short at its height. A conclusion left unwritten. He knew the feeling resonated with his corrosive partner.

Speaking of which. The merciless woman demonstrated her immense strength, crippling one of their foes. She needed no direct support, as they both picked their own battles. But the scientist squandered potential by not taking advantage. The devastation to the landscape spoke for itself. In an open field, the pools of acid posed little threat. In a claustrophobic environment, he could corral test subjects into the death puddles, eliminating all options for escape. Always prepare for contingencies.

Caustic thought it rather ingenious, Lilith's methods. She could stay on the defensive while deteriorating opponents who don't watch their step. All with barely a conscious thought to it.

"Hahhh~…" The sinful woman cooled down from her high, letting off steam as she solidified into her natural state. "Much better. How do y'all like this, hm?" She twirled around to an invisible audience. "I have so many good angles to show~"

"Ahem." Caustic interrupted the exhibition. "We should get moving. The storm is about to pass."

"Fine, fine. Just let me pick up the scraps."

Lilith trotted about the tumultuous Unmade terrain, siphoning fresh blood from the ground. Her whip, though drained of its power, offered a huge increase to her supply. A sizeable clump of pinkish red droplets hovered at her left side.

Peeking over to the impatient doctor, their skeletal gait reminded her of a certain anorexic alien… No, she waved away the scenes materializing in her mind.

Before she could follow, her attention turned to something she had not experienced in ages. First she felt herself up, biting her lip as she brushed over the burnt blemishes. Then, reaching her lower stomach—

"Hhmf~" she mewed, reveling in her abdominal wound. The masochist tried stitching the split flesh with a bloody thread and needle, although her unpracticed hands yielded little effect. The puncturing only amplified her blissful noises. Ultimately, she decided to leave the injured area transformed, appearing as a black scar.

Doctor Caustic had to glance away from the depraved display. He was above this. But apparently not above crushing goblin children with large mallets.



While Lilith traveled outside the fierce storm, she contemplated the recent slaughter.

The ghoul lady and the hunk of meat risked their lives for that brat. She couldn't be any more indifferent to Slurt. No challenge in kicking a defenseless child. Who would care, anyways?

That shadowy man… Edged right at the end by some drifter. A little too much luck on their side, in her opinion. Alas, they were boring, no point in holding a grudge over it. If anything, their surprise appearance proved invaluable, exposing weaknesses she carelessly overlooked. Small mistakes she would not repeat. Slowly, silently evolving to her prey's tactics.

Shoulda wrecked that sword while I had the chance! Or at least slather it… who'd be dumb enough to pick it up?

"Man, I'm really slacking. Oh well, there's always next time!"

Before Lilith could plot another assault, the safehouse barreled through the skies and landed directly in front of the villainous pair.

"Hmph. That was easy."

The concentrated carnage could not compare to the downpour of despair engulfing the survivors. And soon, the butcher would deliver a typhoon.

One step closer to victory. One step closer to becoming apex predator.

Endurance 6
Agility 6
Hemokinesis Damage 4

 

[Dr. McNinja]

Doc stumbled onto the ground, gadget in hand. With his other, he gripped EVEN MORE burns. And again, he had come out empty-handed.

Well, no, that’s not true. But there was a problem with the weapon he had found.

“Stupid, stupid,” Doc grumbled as he looked around, “Who ever heard of a ninja with a gun? Stupid, loud, uncivilized. Should have just thrown the rocket at him…”

Doc peered at the heavens. “Also! Can’t help but notice you gave that kid a rocket launcher! And you sent ME pastries and a marble!”

Dr. McNinja looked up. The bunker or whatever Karl Jak had mentioned was about ten meters in front of him. Inside were ruthless killers and unhelpful weapons, probably. But maybe some friends. He saw that blue girl again, and she seemed to be traveling with someone else. She also seemed to be stabbed in the eye, but hey! People have survived that.

Doc threw open the door. People were starting to teleport in now, with their various injuries. But therein lies the catch - this bunker was a safe space. No fighting here. Or, presumably, the collar around Doc’s neck explodes.

That’s when Doc met eyes with the boy with the rocket launcher.

“YOU!” Doc snarled, “You shot me with a rocket!”

Dr. McNinja then noted the wound in his side.

“Oh, I guess I shot you too. Yeah, it’s all good, man, carry on.”

Dr. McNinja collapsed. There was a bouncy man in red spandex, but Doc figured that he was about as healthy as anyone could be when their genitals were a pile of burnt mush. There was a bald man with sunglasses - for some reason, Doc was getting a real kick out of seeing him. Ugh, that crazy Lilith lady from Nausicaa, of course she’s here. And…

Alexander Nox.

Doc shivered slightly as he made eye contact with the infamous Dr. Caustic. Yep, that was him. He didn’t have any of his gear on him, but Doc knew that he could still be just as dangerous - especially since Doc just had this weird magic gun.

Doc crept into a different room. Maybe he could find medical supplies here. Instead, he found the blue lady with the horns and the missing eye. And next to her-

“AH! Demon child!” Doc yelled, “Cute, upon closer inspection, but he! He stabbed! Your eye! JUST NOW!”

The lady didn’t respond, choosing to stare at the ground in shock. The child in question was rather startled by Doc’s reaction, and decided to hide behind her.

“That’s not possible,” a large bearded man said, “Slurt’s been with us that entire time.”

Doc stared at Slurt. To be fair, this little goblin thing seemed to be an entirely different person than the one who stuck a drill in a lady’s skull. Slurt was shaking and trying to avoid eye contact with Dr. McNinja, with little success. Especially distressing was the child’s many injuries. His leg was horribly broken, and his face was riddled with pocks and skin-bubbles threatening to pop ooze everywhere.

“I recognize those injuries,” Doc muttered, “You breathed in Nox’s gas, didn’t you?”

Doc looked up at the bearded man.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” Doc said.

“Kolith.”

“Nice to meet you, Kolith. You guys been traveling together?”

A woman with long black hair eyed Doc up and down. She was lying on the floor, clearly exhausted and also injured. Apparently unimpressed, she turned her nose away. Kolith sighed.

“Don’t mind her. That’s Christine, and this is Jester and Slurt. You are?”

Doc crossed his arms. “Dr. McNinja. I’m a ninja doctor. Seems self-explanatory.”

“You’re a healer?” Jester said, in an exhausted sing-song voice.

Doc nodded, kneeling next to her. “I could try and help with that, if you’d like.”

“That’s cool!” Jester said, swaying back and forth, “I’m a healer too! Well, I’m mostly just friends with the Traaaaveler but-“

Doc looked at Jester, his sharp eyes flickering back and forth to identify problems. There was obviously a giant hole where her eye used to be, but… there was something worse.

“Jester?”

“Yuh huh?”

Doc swallowed. “Do you mind if I bandage your eye? We need to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

He turned to the others. “There’s not much I can do for her, not without supplies. This looks like an infirmary, though. You guys find anything here I can work with?”

 

[Sandor Clegane]

Using scavenged supplies from about the infirmary, the good Doctor began tending to Jester’s wound. She sat cross-legged on the floor, swaying back and forth, and listening to the incessant high pitched ring emitting from between her ears.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…

“You know, you look pretty funny right now,” Jester stated, hiding a smirking mouth behind her hand. “You look like…you look like some kind of…”

The half of the Tiefling’s face not obscured by bandaging screwed up in concentration for a moment. The word wasn’t coming to her.

“Some kind of fighting guy. Costume. Costume fighting guy,” she stated, and her good eye glazed a moment while her engine sputtered. “Super-hero? And also like a Doctor! The Traveler wanted me to get together with some super-heroes, or something. I can’t really remember…”

The Cleric looked over at her wounded companions: Christine, Kolith, and Slurt. They were all looking as rough and exhausted as she felt, and yet she also felt kind of…did she feel kind of good? Something definitely felt weird...and things were feeling a little fuzzy, too.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…

“Can you shut that off, too?” asked Jester, locking her cycloptic pink eye on the Doc McNinja’s. “The ringing.”

He stared at her blankly, and finished wrapping her skull with care to avoid her curling ram’s horn.

“All done,” he stated, rising to his feet. “Can you stand up?”

Jester quirked her good eyebrow at the Ninja Doctor.

“Why would I not be able to stand up?” she demanded, furrowing her brow, which caused the ringing in her head to sharpen momentarily. “Watch this.”

The Tiefling shifted, then rose slowly to a stand and winced as she put weight on her punctured foot.

“Oh! I forgot about that,” Jester declared loudly, trying to compensate for the constant background noise in her skull. “And you know what else I forgot about!? SUPER GROUP!”

The inhabitants of the room, or at least those who were conscious, looked at her. Some, like the Doctor, were curious. Others, like Christine, looked concerned. None of them said anything.

“We are going to make a super group,” whispered Jester, casting her hand out horizontally, and tapering off her sentence dramatically. “It is going to be so cool. We’ll have this guy, and that guy, and then the three of you guys. And me! We are also going to have me. And the seven of us are going to get out of here, you know, because there are seven of the, uh…things. Seven things. And seven of us! Only, I am not really sure if there are seven of us…”

She started pointing to each of the individuals around the room. One. Two. Three…

A sharp pain bolted through her skull and Jester sucked in air quickly. She’d stopped mid-count with her finger leveled on McNinja.

“And you’re going to come with me. Because you borrowed my thing. Can I have it back?” pleaded Jester.

Two of her dirt covered blue fingers, mud caked under her once tidily pink painted nails, pinched a magic bullet from the bandolier hanging about her waist and drew it out gingerly. She held it out for inspection.

“I need that to blast these. …we can like, walk together and do tradesies, or something,” Jester offered, grinning. “I mean, you are kind of handsome. Maybe. Probably. Behind that mask thing…Doctor McNinja.”

The moment his name, from the battle they’d just been in, popped into her head she felt a surge of recognition. The obscurity of his moniker might not have drawn a reaction out of her if her brain had been wholly intact, but in her current state? He seemed the most normal thing in the room.

“What do you think? Do you want to be in our SUPER GROUP!? We can all be in a super group!”

Riiiiiiiiiiiii….

It is what the Traveler would want.

The Cleric grinned goofily, not realizing anything was amiss.

 

[Rogue]

Gah, tha’ smarted! Ah gingerly prodded the burned skin around mah shoulder, trying to assess the injury as best as ah could. With all the swelling and burns ah couldn’t even be certain how badly it was dislocated. Well, this kinda injury was the sort that could pretty easily end up better or worse dependin’ on whatcha did with it. Ah could remember Teck fallin’ off the barn back home when ah was little, he’d broke his arm a good bit like this, an’ mama Irene’d been able to pop it back into place…

Ah glanced towards Aster, the now lopsided wolf-girl was upending one of her water bottles over the injury, wincing and stopping every few seconds as she tried to do what she could for that nasty cut. Searin’ someone’s ear clean off… Now that was something my powers wouldn’t be able to help against. Ah really did need some kinda weaponry after all, didn’t ah…

My gaze drifted towards Aster’s trident, lying in the grass with that assassin man’s blood still on it. There was a weapon right there…. Aster wasn’t paying attention. Ah could scoop it up real quietly… Ah shifted from sitting towards a sort of crouch, my dislocated shoulder hanging limply to one side. Ah stepped over quietly, watching Aster’s back as she tried to do what she could for her injuries. My good hand strayed towards the discarded polearm. Ah could make it easy. One good stab, use mah powers if she was still gonna fight… That’s what this island was about, right? Ah waited there for a moment, considering my options. Ah couldn’t afford to freeze up forever here. Ah knew ah looked real suspicious here. What was it that ah was findin’ so hard about all this?

You don’t forget the first grave you dig, ya know?

The whisperin’ had gone away by now. Ah was sure of it. Which meant this voice in my head was that kid getting in usin’ old-fashion manipulation. My lip curled into a bit of a sneer. She and Riddick thought they had the whole Crossroads figured in a glance, didn’t they? What did they know? We’d all been a part of that big fight yesterday, and ah was the only one with somethin’ to show for it! A few fingers started to close around the trident. She’d been tellin’ the truth about bein’ afraid of the Unmaking more than of dying though. She’d rather have someone like Riddick kill her than end up caught by ‘em. She was looking to keep people alive, not to win… This was how to get ahead on the island though. Dante’s Abyss was a place for monsters, after all…

Aster’s remaining ear twitched backwards in my direction and ah moved as fast as my injuries would allow. Ah’d already pulled a water bottle out to offer her by the time she turned around.

“You want ta take turns, Sugah? Ah can give that a better look over then you can, then you can get this arm adjusted so ah’m nah walkin’ around floppy for the rest of the Abyss?

“If it’ll help keep the scarring down, be my guest.” The canine’s face was too knotted with pain to make much of an expression, but she was clearly more frustrated than delirious. Was ah glad to learn that, ah couldn’t be certain right now…

Either ways, ah set to work with my good arm, trying to do what ah could for the injury. The burn stetched from the stump of her ear down the side of her face, and it was an angry one.

“Figures it’d be on my good side.” Aster grunted, wincing again as ah poured water on a part of the wound she hadn’t been able to reach.

“Hun, Ah’m half-certain tha’ thing coulda cleaved straight through yer brain-matter. Ah’d wager the both of us got off pretty lucky from that scrape.”

Aster whined a bit from the pain. She really did sound like a dog, and ah had to suppress the urge to pet her in order to try an’ calm her like she was Reme or somethin’.

“Well… the good news about ridiculous laser blades is that they don’t leave an open wound. Ah’ve cleaned out the worst of it, an’ we can wrap it now, yeah?”

Aster nodded, still wincing. Ah grabbed my cloak and almost tried to tear her some strips before ah realized ah only had one arm right now. Oh right. As though it’d been politely waitin’ at the front door o’ my brain, the arm started to make it’s displeasure real apparent. Screwing up my face, ah turned back to Aster.

“Er… you’re gonna have to tear the strips for me ta bind… this side here’s the cleaner half. Just make sure you keep far enough away ye won’t brush me by accident, yeah?”

“Worried I might try to stab you?” Aster gave a faintly amused canine grin.

“Somethin’ like that.” Ah matched it, though both of us were in too much pain to keep the posturin’ for long.

Fixin’ a few of the wraps in place with one arm an’ my teeth, ah managed to get Aster in good enough shape that it could be my turn. Ah bit my cloak clasp, then nodded. Aster nodded back, then took the dislocated arm in both of her hands. She started to count down.

"three!"

Ah couldn't have done this fix myself. Was that why ah stopped?

"two!"

Aster was nice enough though, Riddick probably would've shived me in that cave last night when a nodded off. Maybe that was it?

"one!"

With a noticeable strength, Aster pulled the arm out and a little bit forward. There was a snapping sound, and mah eyesight flashed white and red for a bit. Ah gave a muffled scream, biting down on the cloth, and heedless of anyone who might’ve been searching for us in that moment. Dadgum, that was the worst pain ah’d felt in a while! Why was it more painful goin’ back into place then gettin’ knocked outta it? At least the arm popped back into place enough that ah could move my fingers again.

“Right, let me get that head wrappin’ of yours a bit more secure, then we gotta hoof it. Ah for one don’t fancy any sort of a storm catchin’ us out here. The Abyss doesn't have much o' a sense o' mercy."

 

[Kopaka]

How come I'm always the one who gets stuck with the kid?

It was the middle of the day, and Riddick hadn't slept a wink. Between the loud-ass flight, the loud-ass cowboy, and the ensuing ass-kicking he'd suffered, the merc was in a bad mood.

But things went so far past bad when he found the mangled, yet living, corpse of the goblin boy laid up in the scrap metal infirmary that Riddick almost felt capable of twisting heads around. Even in spite of the stupid fucking happy-field saturating the barracks.

All at once, the merc stood up, and began to bundle Slurt up into a makeshift swaddle. The doc had done what he could for the kid, but Riddick's mind was made up. He would have to fix this mess, where Mama Christine and Auntie Jester had treated him like a pet dog, Uncle Richard would have to look after him from now on.

Just like last time. Exactly like fuckin' last time. The only difference is that these monsters could have made a different choice.

"Que fais-tu? Put him down, ze doctor said-" Christine began to protest. McNinja also began moving to intercede, but Riddick nestled the murmuring heap of green into his bag and leered down at both of them.

"How you gonna stop me? Gonna get violent?" Riddick taunted.

"He's my patient! If you're not gonna explain, at least let me follow!" the doctor griped. Riddick seemed to consider this, then slowly pulled his goggles over his eyes.

"Anyone who follows me gets their face blasted in." the towering merc rumbled. He turned to look at the hallway door, where Chara was staring at him with a mixture of shock and anguished betrayal.

"Anyone." he insisted.

Chara remained rooted to the spot, and didn't look at the merc as he stomped past.

"She's here, you know." Chara whispered.

Riddick stopped, and sighed.

"I know. But I have to do something about this. And I know how." he said softly.

"I get that, but…" Chara said. She swallowed hard, then finally turned her head to look up at him. Her glimmering red eyes reflected in his dark lenses.

"...I don't really…want to be alone with her. Not like this." the green teen murmured, gesturing at her wounds.

Riddick's mouth drew into a grim line, and he adjusted the bag slightly.

"Stick with these folks. They'll keep you safe…" he said, and then glanced back at the makeshift infirmary. Bloody bandages. Christine with her shoulder carved away. The blue-horned girl, half-dead and maimed to hell…

"...actually, maybe don't. Here…" he grumbled, handing her an MRE and water bottle from his pack.

"Sit tight. I'll be back. But I gotta do something for the kid."

With that, Riddick shouldered up his whimpering cargo and strode out the rickety, sheetmetal door.

To his credit, Doc did try to follow us. But I been a frequent flyer in the bunker, and I know all her ins and outs. A shot of green fire across the bow is enough to get him to back off.

Next step is to find those footprints I've come to know so well. From the looks of things, she found a pet dog.

Bet it's also a real bitch. But I gotta play nice for now…for the kid.

It didn't take long for Riddick to catch up with Rogue and Aster. With the landscape boiling away into bloody ashes, there were only so many safe paths through the dissolving ecosystem.

He let himself be spotted a little after noon, and waited for the ambush to come. They picked a damn good spot; a small crumble of cratered limestone that was sloughing down a gully into the fathomless pits. One way through.

Rogue was the first to come around the bend, standing with her arms defiantly crossed at the ravine's other end. Riddick predicted he had two minutes until her backup got itchy.

"Well well well. Look who-"

"We gotta make this quick." Riddick barked. He grabbed the book off of his hip and tossed it far in front of him, where it plopped into the black sand.

"I'm gonna need those magic bagels of yours. I've got a hurt kid here who needs them. You can have the book." Riddick said.

This fucking sucks. I'm watching all my Coin for this stupid chore going up in smoke every second that book sits out there.

A small, wheezing breath came from the backpack, and Riddick shuddered visibly.

Always me. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

"Ah dunno Sugah. Looks to me like I'm the one who gets to call the shots 'round here." Rogue giggled. She began to pace back and forth, clearly relishing her position of power over the previously cocky merc. Riddick looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, a half-cooked wolf girl was prowling up behind him, fork at the ready.

Play nice.

"Wasn't it you who-" Rogue started, but Riddick cut her off.

"Ladies-"

"Don't 'lady' me, tough guy. You don't seem of person interested in a charity case." Aster interrupted. Riddick turned around slightly and slowly put his hands up.

"If you say so. But maybe the kid will speak for himself." Riddick grumbled. He gingerly unzipped his bag, just enough to reveal slurt's massacred head. Both Rogue and Aster exclaimed aloud.

"Good lord!"

"Jeez…"

"Fucked up right? In fact…" Riddick said, tensing his muscles slightly. Aster's lupine instincts picked up on the twitch, and she began to sprint forwards. She wasn't quite fast enough for Riddick to get a shiv of Slurt's throat.

"...may as well put the kid down." the merc smiled as the trident was held off an inch from his nose. Aster's tail swished violently. She recognized the goblin from the previous night. Remembered the regret of harming him. She was part of this.

The trident was pulled back as Aster stood up and looked at Rogue.

"Rogue darlin'...I…" she started but Rogue beat her to the punch. The small baggie of croissants plopped in the ground next to the merc as the copycat contestant scooped up the magical, thieving tome.

"Yeah yeah. Spare me the theatrics, sugah. We need to be movin' on." the belle said, spitting a phlegmy wad at Riddick's feet. Aster strode past Riddick with another swish as he wordlessly gathered the croissants and stuffed them back into the duffel along with Slurt.

As he began to jog back out of the ravine, he heard Rogue's echoing voice from the other end of the crumbling formation.

"Riddick, you take care o' that boy now, y'hear?"

Yup. Always me.

Half an hour later, Riddick sat down in the shadow of a rickety, defoliated fig tree, and dragged his bag and slurt into the hollowed root system. It wasn't until then that the aches and the fatigue of the past two days caught up with him.

His legs and gut in particular ached from bruised tissue and fractured bone. Unlike the stab wound, there was no quick fix for this kind of injury. Nothing except rest and medication…

…or…

Riddick looked at the healing croissants as he turned the bag over in the darkness of the root burrow.

Could at least split it with the kid. Keep him hanging in there, long enough to get out of this alive.

I do owe Nox a thrashing, after all.

With an angry grunt, Riddick crumbled up the first croissant and fed it piece by piece to the wheezing goblin child. Call it goblin instinct, but at least the kid still seemed as eager to wolf down food as he had been back in the bar. Slurt's breathing became almost instantly less labored, and the green skin on his face began to knit back together.

Can't believe I'm buying into this bullshit. Fuckin' Jester and Christine dragging him all over the place like a fuckin' toy poodle.

Gotta make it my damn problem.

Without realizing it, Riddick began almost automatically feeding the second pastry to Slurt. Too late to reconsider now. A few minutes later, as Riddick watched him with keen, silver eyes, the child finally came to with a weak cough.

"M…Mistaw Widdick?" the goblin croaked feebly. Riddick offered him a small, somber wave.

"What…whewre awe…" Slurt continued. He began to fidget, but Riddick placed a single, heavy hand on the kid's little chest.

"Shh. Just rest for now. You're safe and uh…Christine isn't too far away. Just…rest. I've got your back." Riddick fumbled. A spark of awareness seemed to twinkle in the goblin's eye as he processed the implications and instructions of his predicament.

After a moment, Slurt relented and turned over in his makeshift napsack. He was still hurt, and in pain…but he would make it. Satisfied, Riddick sat back against the blackened, rough bark of the doomed tree roots and began scanning the area for intruders. He'd come to Dante's Abyss looking for some quick cash and a plea bargain. That wasn't on the table anymore, but at least he could find a brother.

Because I was also a guttersnipe who needed a handout.

Because I've never picked the easy thing to do.

Because, at the end of the day, it's about family.



Riddick has traded the Bandit's Secret with Rogue for the Croissants A (Healing)

Riddick used both applications of the Croissants to heal Slurt.

 

[Gildarts]

Luck had been taken from them at every chance. The worst price of all... Lay maimed right beside her.

Slurt had been having a nightmare and squirming in his painful slumber. Christine had climbed into the hospital cot with him, wrapping her arm around the small creature and closing her eyes. If she could bleed, maybe she could even sleep too. The woman closed her eyes and exhaled thinking, au moins j'ai ce moment.

When she opened them Slurt was gone.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

The pair of priests sat in a small hovel, little more than a ditch hidden away by overgrowth in the middle of the Cevanti wasteland. It may not have been a very dignifying resting place for two men of the cloth, but that mattered little compared to the threat of an ambush. Sigmund may not have been as battle-hardened as Gascoigne, but they shared a mutual caution while resting.

The cultist silently forced the bland, tasteless MRE down his throat as he watched the hunter do the same, thankful that the older man had caved in to his request for a rest. Any good Ranvian could trek for days across icy wastelands, and a Mindbreaker could go twice as long, but the scholar had the feeling that despite his hardy appearance, Gascoigne wasn’t quite as tireless.

He couldn’t help but give a wry smile as the older man ate the food he had to be reminded to consume. Sigmund himself often had to be reminded to eat after his awakening as Gal’skap’s scion. Maybe the older man would have beaten his two-week record if he hadn’t convinced him to have a break.

“I had been led to believe this hunt would be more eventful.” Gascoigne sniffed as he finished his meal, crumpled up the bag and tossed it aside. The cultist could hardly disagree with him. Only two fights thus far, and one of them wasn’t even against another competitor, it was against one of Darkseid’s minions who happened to be in the area. A hunt was a hunt, he supposed, but it didn’t feel quite the same.

“Luck of the draw.” Sigmund shrugged, tossing the wrappings of his meal into the air and keeping it there for a moment with a couple of puffs of air, dearly missing his telekinesis. “With how - phew - the unmaking is progressing, though, - phew - I doubt we’ll have to endure all this - phew - peace and quiet much longer.”

With that, the psion snatched the wrapping out of the air and crumpled it into a ball in his fist. “They’re rounding us up into a little corner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have guessed that this was Jak’s work. But that would just be madness… Heh.”

Gascoigne contemplated his companion’s words as he got to his feet and peeked over the edge of their hideaway. Even on his tip-toes, the walls of the small pit were a little too big for Sigmund to peek over, but the hunter’s substantially greater height made it no challenge. What was a challenge, however, was the fact that the Father’s eyes reaching over the ledge meant next to nothing. Peeking over the edge was purely an attempt to try and catch the scent of any potential foes trying to get the drop on the priests.

“Getting anything?” Sigmund asked, lowering his voice just in case. Gascoigne was silent for a long, tense moment, the only sound in the ditch being the sound of his deep breathing. Eventually, though, he slowly shook his head.

“Nothing.” He grumbled. “Even the reek of the unmaking is gone… mostly, at any rate.”

The hunter moved to lower himself back down into a seated position before stopping himself.

“Well, we’ve taken our break. I say we get moving again. Any objections?”

“You’ll hear none from me.” The cultist said, dropping his MRE packaging into his bag. Being in the middle of a slightly unmade wasteland was no excuse to litter, after all. Hopping to his feet, Sigmund waited at the base of the ditch as Gascoigne clambered up and over the edge and extended his arm to help the younger priest up. Or, more accurately, the hunter pulled the skinny man up. The scholar practically ragdolled in the bigger man’s grip, allowing himself to be pulled up with next to no effort on the part of either of them. As they began to resume their trek, Sigmund smacked his lips and made a dissatisfied face, “I must say, if we end up dying out here, that will have made for a rather grim last meal.”

Gascoigne cackled at that, slapping his young companion on the shoulder and giving him a wolfish grin. “Well, there’s a simple fix for that. We’ll just not die.”

 

[Nearl]

Collecting ones thoughts after experiencing a death-bound experience could be difficult. Doing so whilst under the head pressure of a concussion was practically impossible. Even before her injury she was having a horrendous time trying to remember what happened before she had passed out under the blade of the Blood Knight. She still couldn't tell if she was alive in the flesh or if this was the result of her injuries in the Major. Three days later, she's still wondering if she'll every see Maria or Zofia again.

The constant nagging of her travelling companion wasn't not helping matters. Despite her insistent admission that she was concussed and needed to take it easy, Nearl had taken wounds far more grievous than a clonk to the head. What kind of knight would she be if she was letting a civilian worry about her anyway? No, she could manage just fine by herself. With the sun at it's highest, Nearl would take a look around for some place to set up for a spell while they whipped out those MRE things that those Syntech people gave the contests when they were first ported to this island. She had no idea how Josuke was fairing on his food situation but as a trained knight from an age before adulthood, Nearl learned how to ration supplies. Having been so busy looking for a weapon to defend herself with and a will of sheer determination, this would be her first meal on the island.

After spotting a well hidden spot between a crevice of tall rocks, Nearl would stop in her tracks. "Here, we'll take that break you want me to take so bad. This is a perfect time to stop and eat something." Almost as if on queue, Josuke's stomach would rumble, as the mere thought had made him famished.

"Jeez, you're right. I'm starving." He would say, following her over to their soon-to-be resting spot. Popping open the MRE, Nearl would find herself a beef stew, some rice, a piece of bread fit with some spread and a cookie. For Josuke, a serving of spaghettis, some baked cracker-like snack she was unfamiliar with, bread like her own and some cobbler. The meal hardly seemed like it complimented itself but the packaging would imply some form of ration given to military forces so it made sense.

"Certainly not a balanced meal but beggars can't be choosers." Nearl would state as started to dig in without even warming the food. Josuke was a little more hesitant on that line.

"You're not going to start a fire to heat it or anything?" He would ask, looking ready to start one for himself.

"I would but given the packaging, I would have to sacrifice my water to boil the meal in the pouch. I put more trust in a rusty blade to sharpen my spear than the water in this world not infecting me with some unknown disease." The blonde would say, not wasting any time in filling her stomach. Thankfully, the food might help her head clear up a bit, even if resting would really only make her realize just how much pain she was in.

"That's... a fair point. Maybe I'll be alright eating some cold food, even if it's just for a few more days." Silence would fall between the two of them as they tried to enjoy their food. Nearl's thoughts were simply trapped and fixated on what she should be doing. Should she find a way back home? Is there a way back home? If she really was dead, why was she here? What would she do with this second chance of life?

Right now, she would focus on the situation that she'd gotten herself in and hopefully she would walk out with an ally. Josuke seemed like a good kid. She was sure that he would enlighten her a bit on where she was and maybe help her arrive to a conclusion on why she was here.

 

[Ketkin Flynn]

he shouldn’t be alive. Not with his consciousness intact anyways. He would never admit it to anyone but Ketkin was very spiritual. His body being destroyed scared him far less than his soul being bridled and paraded around by darkseid. He thought the stories were exaggerated but words can’t do this experience justice.



He was hiking in the mountains when it happened. The rocks were warm to the touch, like the mountain itself was about to erupt with unmaking. His muscles cried out for reprieve from the harsh terrain and when he finally gave in, it pounced. Slimy tendrils flipped through the folds of his brain like files in a cabinet. His blood boiled and his bones turned to stone. He watched his fingers move without his consent. They curled and stretched in a variety of slow and deliberate forms, as if being used for the first time. He began to feel a hatred for the living. The growing trees and the buzzing bees and the festering, filthy humans. He watched his fingers claw deep into the gravel with little resistance. Were they sharp? He didn’t even remember falling to his hands and knees. He didn’t remember anything.



“I’m sorry, we’re not quite finished with this one yet. Another time maybe.” The president’s voice mocked the unmaking through the speaker on Ketkin’s collar. Suddenly an unfathomably shrill tone played right under ketkins ears and snapped him out of his possession for a brief moment. “Kevin will you please direct the old man to somewhere more entertaining.” The president ordered.



Ketkin squeezed Wilson’s hand (paw?) tight as he raced out of the mountains. Wilson’s “I love you” was lost to the wind. Kevin called out directions and obstacles so fast ket didn’t even have time to think about how high up he was as he leapt and ducked his way to freedom. He began to tire, and Kevin’s voice seemed to grow less urgent, but he didn’t dare slow down. He needed to get as far away from that place as possible.



Eventually his pace relaxed as the time in between callouts increased. He tried to get some info out of his fancy GPS in between labored breaths while he had the opportunity.



“I don’t mean to be rude but that right turn back there… aren’t I heading deeper into the unmade zone right now?”



“You really can’t listen for shit, huh old man. It’s a wonder you survived this long.” Kevin let’s out a deep sigh. “Do you see that storm gathering on the horizon? That’s about to sweep all the way through column G on your map, which you really need to keep better notes on. The president graciously warns you about these things with plenty of time to spare and you piss it down your leg. I’m going to get you to a safe house that will be pushed like a tumbleweed outside of the storms influence. After that, the next time you fuck up you’re dead. Or worse. Make a slight left here. Yeah through those bushes at your 4 o’clock. There ya go.”

 

[Lilith]

Lilith sprang into the bunker with a bubbly energy sharply contrasting the grim atmosphere. Furious shouts and mournful weeping interspersed with people going about their business. The perfect situation to capitalize on, if only she had the will to commit violence. But hey, if she couldn't attack, then a conversation would do instead.

Caustic went off on his own personal matters. Unloading balls, creeping on dead/dying bodies and such. Go do your thing, science man.

Off to the right, she spotted a cowboy in red spandex (with a spectacular ass by the way) hanging out with a stereotypical emo dude. Respect to the partnership they got going on.

And just as she suspected, her new favorite toy marched right towards her. "Heya pet~ Did ya miss me? Cause I missed you. Where ya off to in a hurry?" Lilith blocked the exit with her sheer presence.

"My, you've been busy haven't you?" Completely ignoring all attempts to get under her skin. "Christine, flawed as she may be, cared about the child. Kolith, doing the right thing. And Slurt. Innocent, caught in the middle of this horrible tragedy."

"Don't blame me for almost turning him into a red and green splotch. Everyone else though, I take full responsibility~" She played the events back in her head.

Responsibility. "I failed to end you sooner. It's my fault for letting things get out of hand." Fists formed at either side of the mage as she stared through the monster.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, hun. We'll have our date real soon~" She knelt down to Chara's height, and sweet heavens, she is naked! I know ya wanna look. But the young woman did not budge, their resolve unwavering.

Two simultaneous, opposing realities encircled the judge. The first, she embraces Lilith and partakes in their debauchery. The second, she stands over their corpse, neither of them recognizable.

Chara knew these two futures overlapped. For a moment, she relaxed, wearing an emotionless smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

Lilith appreciated the change of attitude. "Purrr~ That's more like it. Soo… Anyways, where are you going?"

"That's for me to know. Though you're welcome to follow and find out."

"Mm. I'll pass. I'm just gonna chill here and find a spot to flick off. Better not get caught in that storm, it'll be bad for us both."

What an absurd idea. Unmaking yourself just to avoid Lilith. Although… It wasn't the most unreasonable thing. "I can assure you I'll be alive until we next cross paths."

"Hmhmhm… That's all that matters."

 

[Karl Jak]

Evening
(1800 – 2400)​

“Hello, everyone, we’re getting closer – I can feel it.

“Please be advised that the following squares will be wholly unmade by the start of Day 3:

I3
J3
K3
L3
M3
N3
O3
H3
H4
H5
H6
I6
J6
K6
L6
L4
M4
L5
M5
N8
S7
T7
S1
T1
T6.”

“When you next hear my voice, there will be six items dropped, and remember that the seventh will be made available once all six have been returned to the device and only then. In the meantime, the item needed to pair with the Spork will drop onto the island at the start of Day 3 at location P5.”

“Stay safe!”

***​

This phase concludes at 9 AM on 6-19.

Safehouse – At the end of this phase, the safehouse will be located at Square O4. People can still move to square H4 during this phase and be considered ‘safe’.

Anyone who starts this phase on a ‘red’ tile receives +1 movement

The following are all the Joke items and how to unlock their potential (please bear in mind this doesn’t make them Jesus-powered, just better than a Joke)
Condoms = Go to Square T4 and look for the sinkhole.
Spork + Future Item Drop -> These Items combine together
Miniskirt – Find the statue at Square N7
Cards – Take to Square Q8
Play, Boy – Can probably be traded to marines at the safehouse
Pot of Honey + Croissants B -> These two items combine

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara re-entered the base with a groan, the stench of the unmade death around her still visible in her nostrils. Of all things, that Karl Jak had refused to remove that little feature was probably her biggest issue with the man right now. She supposed it was likely done to make sure that the contestants actually attempted rescue rather than simply sit in the safehouse and wait for others to do it. She could certainly see the logic - unless these deadzones continued on until the point their only option was Death by collar or unmaking. Unfortunately, she'd known enough people who might make the wrong decision there...

The walk was nothing much to speak of, unmade flora and fauna blossoming everywhere, but it showed her how much of a madhouse Cevanti had became since she'd last been here. The alien life outside snapped and lashed, though it was still passive compared to what it could be, out in the mists… and more than once on her mandatory Stroll Chara felt a little too close to the misty wall outside.

The idea to go and fight Lilith herself was still fresh on her mind, but the tenacious predator choosing to stick inside relative safety for now left her without a clear path - actually stopping her in her tracks, as she figured out what to do from here. It had been a long time since she’d been on the back foot in a conversation, in decision-making, and unfortunately, it seemed like it had been past time for her to experience it.

“...Spinning my wheels.” Chara muttered, looking around the base with a frown. What, then? Riddick was off somewhere, she could tell from a casual glance. Lilith was going to give her nothing other than the violence-equivalent of blue balls, at least for the moment, and she had no desire to probe Caustic’s brain - even in optimal circumstances, she had to grudgingly admit the Scientist’s mind was formidable, and this event had shown her out of touch.

…who was that before who was a fan of the show? Or at least, Karl Jak?...Jenkins! She should try and talk to him about the other competitors. Most of them she didn’t know, and many seemed like dime-a-dozen violent murderers to her. A one-dimensional, shallow understanding, and one that would not fare her well in this instance…

Her thoughts were cut off as she noticed someone’s eyes boring into her. If she recalled quite correctly, it was the man who left a few painful burns across her chest earlier.

Well, perhaps that was a good starting point, after all.

 

[Nico Cinder]

Deadpool held the briefcase out for Nico, who grabbed it from him with a shiny grin, holding up a fist to bump as he did so. The cowboy didn't let go, but did touch his knuckles to his buddy's. "Hey, before I hand this off to you...be careful with it. You hear me, partner? You look the "at-risk" youth type. Edgy anti-heroes are naturally susceptive to corrupted power. I'd hate to have to put a bullet in your fucked up goop head there, bud."

Nico admitted that he knew a thing or two about being corrupted by great unfathomable power, and promised to only use it for himself in case of an emergency. Decidedly, this batch of eggs was suboptimal. Nico wasn't fond of sharing his body with any foreign influences, and if years past were any indication, the Malefactor was, in general, just bad news waiting around to get worse - kinda like Nico himself.

Emergencies only.

--

Thank god there were real eggs in the bunker fridge. Well...As real as MREs could be. There was a pretty impressive kitchenette built into an alcove down the hall from the bunk room, and Nico got to work with haste. You can do a lot with eggs, more than you would think. Even if they're dehydrated mush. Nico worked on the line as a cook in several restaurants growing up, and it remained one of the few chores of life he had come to enjoy. There was some sick stuff in the pantries here too, stuff he could work with. Why didn't he come in here yesterday? Steam and the scent of meat drifted into the other rooms of the safehouse, as Nico heard teleporter chirps. The gentleman who introduced himself earlier on the battlefield as Dr. McNinja poked his head through the doorway and gave Nico a glare that would make the sun blush.

"YOU!"

This happened to Nico more often than he would care to admit. Luckily, this time he wasn't in some musty alleyway or bar or wherever else a Nico might be found. He was in a room full of delicious breakfast. Nico saw the good Doctor's nose wiggle underneath his mask. Even if you ain't much of a breakfast guy, these bare conditions Karl puts ya through will make your stomach churn for something cooked. Begrudgingly, the ninja nodded to the wound he left on Nico's hip, relenting under the honor of a fair bout. The punk could appreciate that. The concert moshpits he felt so at home in were all about a positive release of violence and aggression.

Just because you have to overcome your obstacles doesn't mean you have to hate them.

Nico did his best to reserve his grudge energy on assholes who really deserved it, seeing his immortality as an opportunity to become a vessel for torment and vengeance against uppity bastards who think they're out of reach from such things. Thankfully, it seemed that neither of the two contestants saw each other as worthy of such a grudge.

"-carry on." the ninja said. Nico nodded back.

"When you're finished doin' whatever it is you're doin', I uh, I made enough for-" the breakfast in chief checked his current spread of eggs, tortillas, and sausage patties. "...a lot. If you and your goonies want some breaky. Me and the cowboy will be in here chomping down."

The doctor gave him a thumbs up and said, "I'll pass that along. Lots of hungry...angry...wounded mouths probably."

The hurried look on his face told Nico the doctor had other things on his mind than breakfast. Hmmm...Something to look into when he's done with his prior obligation. Speaking of which- Oh. There he is. Nico had just turned around to set the egg plate on on the table next to the wraps and sausages. The red cowboy was already seated, twirling a fork between his fingers and looking mighty hungry. Nico glanced at the freezer. He almost forgot that other super important thing.

"Well," Nico said. The boy reached for a plate he set off to the side specifically for Deadpool. The sausage patties and egg burrito were arranged in the shape of a dick. "Go on then, have at it."

"Aw, man, do you wanna move into my place or what?" Deadpool asked, going immediately for the sausage patties. Nico could see that he, too, was a gentleman of taste and distinction. Links might as well not even be real meat. "You cuddle, you cook. Jesus, you're the whole package."

"I keep tryna tell 'em," Nico said with another toothy grin. In several fluid motions, Nico retrieved a glass mug and poured the icy cold Diet Mountain Dew with a flourish. He handed it to his compatriot. "Thanks for going out on a limb for me," the young man said. "I owe you one."

"Yeah you owe me something, alright," He said with a pained laugh. "Honestly, you're just lucky my dick grows back."