”And so the night passes on, as the new day rolls over… But not all of you remain with us! Let us take a brief second to recount who has been lost:
#009 Agent HUNK
Surely we will all miss them. But let us carry on, shall we? I sense things may be coming to a head soon…
Last phase’s danger zones are now active! And for a fresh surprise on this third day of events: there will be no further Danger Zones from here on out! Next phase, they will be skipping straight to Dead Zones. Keep alert of your surroundings, now!
Do watch out for these, next phase:
M-5!
M-6!
M-7!
M-8!
M-9!
L-5!
L-6!
L-7!
L-9!
As the remaining safety left on our lovely little island closes in...I wonder how many of you will survive to make it to the next phase?”
NPC Movement Updates
Mid-Boss remains dead…
Perfect Cell remains dead...
Agent HUNK has died...
Sigma remains dead…
Darth Vader remains dead…
King remains dead...
Bulletins and Updates
Due to some schedule-related lateness on my part, this phase will last until 8 PM EST, November 20th.
All of the dead zones on the island are now filled with a disquieting look of visible static, black and white ‘snow’ like on a malfunctioning TV. Visual glitches, mismatched colors and oddly missing chunks of ground and terrain can also be seen, like an unstable computer program. Further out, toward the edges of the island, it fades into a disquieting mess of mismatched colors and a hazy void of blackness.
Face-off
#007 Bloodhound, #018 Mirage & #019 Wraith vs. #011 Dr. Caustic
Caustic cursed as he struggled his way along. In spite of his makeshift bandaging of his wounds, it did little to alleviate the searing discomfort. A very unneeded distraction in this scenario, even if he could push through it easily enough. Pain was a purely physical thing, and thus was something which wouldn’t impede him.
...what might impede him, however, was a sound swiftly rising over the droning of static in the air with alarming speed.
Out of reflex he turned around and scanned the plains before he saw it. Coming up the trail through the grass, at full speed. Skidding and sliding around the turns, all the dents and dings in its armored frame doing nothing to so much as slow it down. More than the sight of the vehicle itself, or its crazy driving however, it was the occupants that drew his immediate attention.
Bloodhound. Wraith. Mirage.
The last of them situated in the back, at the controls of the huge multi-barreled gatling cannon mounted to the contraption, which was already spinning up even as his radio crackled to life.
”Do forgive me for the late check-in, Doctor. This storm is causing some...interference.” The voice of the radio operator was filled with the kind of tone strictly reserved for ‘I’m not actually sorry at all.’ that couldn’t just be outright stated. ”But I trust I don’t need to really warn you or offer much insight into the capabilities of these three? I’m afraid I don’t have the files available for what weapons they’ve been gifted with, so you’ll need to--” There was an ear-piercing screech of static and feedback before the radio went silent.
“Useless!” Caustic hissed, as he scrambled into motion to avoid being perforated by the Warthog’s gun spraying the ground with a deadly hail of lead. As the vehicle roared past him, he only dimly registered the brakes squealing and screeching as it spun and skidded to a halt. Mirage remained right where he was, Wraith and Bloodhound disembarking to pursue him on foot.
The doctor grasped the Vampire Killer and lashed out with it to get ready. This fight was already sorely stacked against him, but that wasn’t going to be an issue for him!
...except it was an issue.
The constant fire of the gatling cannon kept him on the defensive and constantly moving, unable to keep steady footing for more than a moment while Wraith and Bloodhound steadily closed in on him. A confoundingly effective strategy, even if it did start to lose effectiveness once the fight grew close to melee range. That mounted gun wasn’t the most accurate thing in the world, after all.
But by the time he had a reprieve from that, Caustic was forced to deal with the threat of two armed combatants within arms’ reach of him, inside the truly effective range of the Vampire Killer. Driven as it was by his will, it still proved to be an effective tool and kept him from being wholly overwhelmed...but it was a hard-fought task.
With her armor and shield, Wraith was a constant goading, distracting presence. Striking just enough to force his focus to remain on her as she retreated and kept up a strong defensive front, leaving him distracted for Bloodhound to skulk up behind him and nearly cave his head in with that bulky power fist.
And that was to say nothing of the constant harassment of Mirage, when he finally exited the turret to join the fray directly. He was everywhere, in a constant blur of red; striking here and there, lashing out with a kick, or his swords, or the huge blade of the green dragon.
In his laser-focused mind, the entire affair felt like it lasted hours...but in reality it scarcely lasted a minute. He was driven back and cornered by the three of them, with little in the way of anywhere to run. He snarled, reaching for the C-Finder at his belt and brought it up to level it at his foes.
Predictably, he never got the time to use it, as it was knocked out of his hand by a shield bash from Wraith. A solid blow to the back from Bloodhound left him reeling and dropped to one knee...before he was soundly cut in two by a high-speed strike from Mirage.
With only a gurgling hiss of the last of his rage, Dr. Caustic crumpled into a messy, bloodied heap on the ground.
#011 Dr. Caustic eliminated
12 Contestants Remain
Bloodhound, Wraith and Mirage have suffered the equivalent of a Minor Injury of several cuts, bruises and assorted scrapes from Caustic’s last stand.
It really wasn't so bad, having one's neck severed. It hurt like hell, of course - one's entire body insisting that it was really there, even when it wasn't, and the feeling was not fun. but there was a certain point after it was lost that, finally, Weiss's brain was willing to admit enough was enough. if she had shoulders, they would have sagged, as the embrace of death welcomed her.
Within those last few seconds, though, she had to admit she preferred the fall in the graveyard.
Weiss's eyes closed, her last conscious action as every one of her remaining muscles grew rigid and whatever force refused to let her die was finally made to let go, her mind shutting down as sleep took her for the first time in many months.
She hoped Kazooie would be okay.
.
.
.
.
.
.....
_____Weiss's eyes flew open with all the speed of a racing zebra. The huntress stared in mute confusion, feeling the phantom feelings of a body beneath her, of the pains of her burnt body, the huntress tumbling over as she tried to get her good arm underneath her, rolling around for all the world like a flopping fish as she tried to get a hold of herself.
"I'm alive? I'm alive!"
"Weiss?!"
"Kazooie?!" Weiss managed, trying to jump to her feet as she turned... only for a shifting of weight to leave her tumbling back, uselessly...
Weiss looked back to her sides, and horror struck her at what she saw.
One arm had already been removed nearly at the shoulder, a tiny stump wiggling uselessly, but Anubis had... that's right, she remembered now. Losing an arm just doesn't really hold in your mind after your necks' been severed - a lot of things tend to fall the wayside, such as about a hundred pounds of weight, but after her recapitation the thought put a shiver through her spine.
I have no arms. I have no Arms. I have NO ARMS!
"Weiss? Weiss, are you still there? Are you - jesus!" Kazooie managed, and Weiss quickly felt herself wrapped in a feathery hug.
"Kazooie, they got my arms. I don't..." Weiss managed, still numb from the shock, as Kazooie pulled her to her feet.
"But you're alive. you're going to be fine. Can you still, uhhh... throw down?"
Weiss groaned, looking at the stumps. "I can fire a Cero from any part of my body, so I can still do something, but... I don't think this is good for our chances. How am I alive?!" She asked, emotion finally starting to creep in as she was forced to confront her sudden break of the rules of mortality.
"You don't know? I was kinda expecting you to figure it out, since you were there, and all."
"I, uhhh... I got nothin'." Weiss groaned, lifting herself to her feet as best as she could.
"How 'bout we figure that out after we get moving. maybe get you some food."
A sudden growl from Weiss's stomach alerted the two to a more mundane issue they faced.
"It's okay, I have experience feeding baby birds. You're not a baby, but the principle is the same I'm pretty sure!" Kazooie said happily, causing Weiss to jump back half a step in horror.
As the announcement faded, The Prisoner and his friend walked along the shore of a lake. They had been here once before, earlier in the event, but it had a far more nefarious air about it now. Though the light from The Prisoner's head wasn't bright enough to reach the center, the occasional flashes of soundless, purple lightning revealed a nightmare landscape where once serene water lay. Patches of matter, hovering and jittering in mid-air. Random splotches of pitch-darkness, which even the lightning was unable to illuminate. Streaks of unnatural color, and strange spike-like growths.
The Ghostly Duo shared an unspoken desire to be away from the place, one that even Anubis appeared to have as the Stand was very conspicuously avoiding looking in that direction. Hurrying along, Gengar floated in front and lead the way, aided by the light of The Prisoner's flame. They needed to find some sort of shelter to wait out the night and, hopefully, this strange storm as well. But, amidst the plain, there was little to find in that way. A few trees dotted the landscape, true, but neither competitor felt very trusting of their resistance to the strange electricity in the air.
In the end, however, the environment left them little choice in the matter. Gengar let out a sigh, and waved his companion over to one of the larger trees in the area. A mighty oak, it had grown in such a way, along the embankment of a river, that it had formed a sort of cave on the side, as its roots remained as the soil eroded.
"Guess this'll hafta do, pal. Not exactly happy about it, but any shelter in a storm, right?"
Amber flame framing an eye that scanned the area continuously for danger, The Prisoner nodded without hesitation, seemingly eager to have something between it and the ominous sky above. Anubis was, for his part, being uncharacteristically quiet, the jackal-headed beings ears laid low against his head and his hackles raised. If The Prisoner was concerned for its weapon/friend, it made no outward show of it, instead opting to furtively hurry after the ghost Pokémon towards their destination. And, as the light of its flame illuminated the inside… they saw something they weren't expecting.
"Well, if it ain't the Wooper wannabe! How ya been?! Staying… ahead of the competition?"
The executive producer flexed his fingers for what felt like the thousandth time in the last few hours. In some part of his brain, he kept telling himself that the action had some sort of therapeutic purpose.
Around him, the terrain of the swamp had gradually fallen away to the milquetoast of landscapes—rolling, nondescript plains. Now, as anyone might be aware, Karl was no fan of slinking around in overgrown swamps, but that did not mean he viewed a bunch of lolling green dips and teeny hills as a vast improvement.
“Couldn’t be a desert or something? Maybe a salt flat? Perhaps a quasi-active volcano that occasionally sputtered gouts of lava on the landscape,” at that last one, Karl tilted his head. “I’ll have to remember that one,” he muttered, despite being acutely aware that the actual remembering wouldn’t be coming from him. Sometimes it was just better to not dwell on the more cosmic aspects of one’s existence—it made all the goods of the flesh (and there are plenty) feel so miniscule in comparison. Why would Karl bother to dwell on the fact that he likely wasn’t going to see the seventh sunrise on this island, let alone any of the preceding ones?
Karl paused near a puddle and caught his beleaguered reflection in its muddy surface. He smirked down at himself and puffed out his chest. “Do not fear death, Young Karl. For as long as you interest me, you will be reborn.” His mouth twisted up as he wondered if he’d just made that up or was parroting something else. Probably the latter. Karl was sassy and mildly hedonistic, but he didn’t have a god complex.
“I have the strange taste for tea with salt,” he muttered softly as he reached into his duffel bag and grabbed a fistful of map. He felt like he’d managed to accurately track the spread of the danger zones around the island, and the fact that the world was literally falling to pieces to his south helped to gauge the fact that he had to be mostly correct.
“I wonder if they programmed the land to do that,” Karl spoke to himself as he tilted his head and watched a shrub fizzle and distort like an aged VHS tape. “Well at least there aren’t any wells nearby,” the executive whispered. “Last thing I need is wet Asian children chasing me,” with a shudder that betrayed some deep-seated horror, Karl turned away from the glitching landscape and set his sights on more solid and death-adverse avenues of travel. At this point in the game, he could safely assume that all the contestants were within a square of one another, and that they were playing the dumbest game of musical squares with one another. Karl had seen the scene play out on endless occasions. People who signed up for something called a ‘death game’ suddenly became horrified by the notion of combat after a few days listening to people being declared dead.
Looking down at his necklace, Karl scowled. He couldn’t have got a rocket launcher? Perhaps a teddy bear bomb? Yes, the pointy piece of jewelry lent itself well in the creation of various impalement gags, but at this stage in the festivities, the man without the purple suit figured most people in a situation similar to his were dead by now. If they weren’t dead, their character arc had probably progressed to the phase where they’d be either incoherently driven by blood loss and rage, reclusive and fearful, or something in between.
“Don’t worry, Karl, we’ll be there soon enough,” Karl said to himself as he took a glance into his duffel bag. He wasn’t hungry, but he also hadn’t completed the mandatory scene where he interacted with the food materials. “Save it,” he assured himself as he zipped the bag closed once again.
“Almost time for another round of musical chairs,” he replied as he eyed the color of the sky.
“No one had your back, huh? Hate when that happens.” Mirage quipped as he watched Caustic fall in half from his cleave, leaving only his loot behind.
“Their life showed vigor, but the end comes for us all. The Allfather graces us with this victory.”
“Yeah the Allfather, definitely not the bullet rain from the truck or the slashing in two,” Mirage spoke sarcastically.
“Enough, Mirage. We were lucky on this one, not too long ago the odds were against us.” Wraith retorted
Bloodhound nodded at the two.
“I am graced to be your ally. I doubt I would have been able to match the strength of these past two opponents. Our hunt proves fruitful.”
“I agree. That hunk guy made us break more than a sweat.”
“Maybe for you guys but… alright maybe he was a bit more to chew on.”
“Where does our hunt take us next?”
“For now, let’s rest. Take count of what we have, then move once the sun rises. It’s been a busy day, we need the sleep. We can do two-hour shifts while we see who is left with the datapad.”
“It brings me peace to know that we may sleep with a watchful eye.”
“Alright fine, I’ll take first shift then, too much adren-ader- too excited to sleep anyways.”
Wraith gave a sly smile before stretching. “Sounds good, I imagine you aren’t gonna mess with the computer while on guard then.”
“Nah, I’ll leave the boring spying to you guys.”
With a little bit of bickering, the three made a quick camp, before finally taking a rest to prepare for the day ahead of them. With everything that had happened, the finals must not be too far away.
They passed under stormy grey skies and through the muddy patches created by winding riverbeds, the forested area around them surrendering to rolling plains and heaps of rocky terrain. The piercing whine of static could still be heard, an uncertain haze of black and white flickering in the distance— obscuring the outermost edges of the island in a confusing mess of jumbled scenery, like a glitching map in a video game or some kind of electric nightmare.
Pathfinder didn’t pay this unnerving change in their surroundings any mind, creepy as it was. Rather, he remained silent, pensive even… trailing along behind the slinking, shadowy form of Revenant like some kind of oversized robotic duckling.
The MRVN’s continued silence was beginning to get on Revenant’s nerves. While before it had seemed that the idiotic scout would never shut his trap, now he seemed consumed by his thoughts— or whatever passed for thoughts rattling around in that useless tin can head of his.
When the simulacrum chanced a glance back at his usually cheerful traveling partner, it appeared that the MRVN was barely stumbling along. He dragged his feet across clumps of grass and mud, scarcely bothering to lift his mechanized legs, and a ridiculous-looking crying face was plastered across that vapid chest screen of his. Even the drone seemed to pick up on his mood, hovering low to the ground and trying to turn in circles to cheer Pathfinder up… all to no avail, naturally.
It was stupid, pathetic, and overall infuriating to watch, and it went on for hours.
Finally, Revenant could stand it no longer.
“Knock it off,” he snapped, drawing to an abrupt halt in the shadow of a towering boulder, his already rough voice grating sharply around the edges— like a human grinding their teeth. “I’m not a skinsuit, so quit pretending like you care and focus on killing anything that moves.”
That finally seemed to elicit a reaction from the MRVN, his screen flickering from the recurring display of sadness it had become. Slowly, Pathfinder’s head tilted up to look at Revenant, a perfect pantomime of confusion. “What makes you say that I don’t care, friend?”
Revenant growled, stalking closer. He jabbed one sharp claw in Pathfinder’s face, leaning in close to intimidate him. “You’re a robot. You were manufactured. There are thousands of MRVNs out there, and not a single one has feelings.”
“I have feelings,” Pathfinder defended, refusing to back down, his screen glowing a sudden and violent red— an angry face flashing into view, a welcome change from all the crying. “My creator gave them to me.”
Revenant snorted. It was an ugly sound, harsh and fierce in its derision.
“No, they didn’t. They just gave you… the ability to learn, to mimic the fleshbags so they feel more comfortable around you. Look at you now: you’re like a mirror,” said Revenant, gesturing loosely between them, a mocking sneer in his words as he regarded the beet red emoticon scowling at him. “You don’t feel anything.”
For a moment the MRVN simply looked at him, an uncertain flicker manifesting on his chest screen, the anger and sadness giving way to honest confusion. Then, “Isn’t that what all humans do? They learn how to feel things as they grow. I’ve spent a long time learning, friend. Just because I can’t show it exactly like all of my friends do doesn’t mean I am not able to feel.”
Abruptly, Pathfinder’s optic flickered for a moment, looking at Revenant with what almost seemed like concern. “I heard from Mirage that sometimes people who are very angry will try to hurt their friends with their words, but that they usually don’t mean to. Are you okay, friend? You can tell me if you’re upset, I won’t judge you.”
He raised his one good arm in the air, tentatively, as if he wanted to reach out and touch Revenant’s shoulder to— to comfort him or something. The simulacrum retreated a step, giving the offending limb a positively venomous glare.
“I don’t need your artificial sympathy,” growled Revenant, staring the other robot down. “Or your friendship.”
“That’s too bad, friend,” said Pathfinder, lowering his extended arm. A smile flickered back onto his screen. “You already have it!"
