“Good morning, everyone! Today is a pivotal day for us all. And by ‘us all’, I of course mean all of you trying to outlast your opposition. Very shortly, your collars will usher you to the event of your choosing, and I cannot wait to see the fireworks.
“No deaths to report, but I do have a list of dangerzones that will go live the next time I speak with you all:
C9
D9
E9
E10
G8
H7
H6
“Good luck, and I look forward to seeing who lives to see the sunrise!
“Smooches.”
Out-of-Karl Bulletins
Weather - It will stop raining/ambient thunder today but remain overcast
Face to Face
#13 Yuuka & #20 Doomguy vs #24 Kayleigh Eudora & #17 Gildarts vs #23 The Hulk Easter Egg: Pokeball
Just a day or so removed from running to a silent serial killer, Yuuka and Doomguy found themselves back at Gear Lake. This time, they were hoping to add another present to their collection. Unfortunately, their run-in with the two men earlier in the night had served to put a damper on the buzz they had worked up a few hours prior. Now mostly sober and all scowls, the twosome trudged silently down the rolling hills that took them out of the surrounding forests and down to the lake.
“Already have company,” Yuuka muttered through partially clenched teeth as she finally managed to work a nail out of her shoulder. Her first instinct had just been to leave the projectiles for now, but Doomguy had been quick to point out that they looked rusted. After that, she had wrenched one out of her calf and found that her associate’s observations were correct. The nails were either already rusted or somehow oxidized shortly after firing. It was one of Karl Jak’s many tricks, apparently.
“Then we kill them,” the marine replied with zero hesitation.
It was then that the roar shook the forest behind the twosome, and then found themselves quickly heading to the lake as the footfalls grew closer.
Down near the shoreline, Gildarts had been put on watch while Kayleigh tinkered with the capsule. The woman had managed to crack open the prize when her one-and-off companion tapped her on the shoulder. “I figured that mushroom people are friendly, but I think we competition coming.”
“Did you not hear that scream?” Kayleigh muttered without looking up from the apparatus. Technology wasn’t exactly her forte, but she would be damned if she’d be defeated by a fucking fancy-ass treasure chest.
“There is also a very angry woman with a gun,” Gildarts added before a blast of energy smacked into his chest and threw him into the lake.
“Sons of whores,” Kayleigh grumbled as she wrenched apart the capsule and saw that the prize was a small sphere of some kind. The woman scowled, but before she could grab the trinket, a marine crashed into her, sending both of them tumbling into the lake.
Yuuka slowed her pace after Doomguy tackled the woman into the water. The woman snatched the Pokeball just as she felt the heavy breathing on her back. Turning around, she found herself staring up at a hulking, green-skinned man.
The green-haired woman opened her mouth, but whatever words that were destined for the world were silence by a ham-sized fist crashing into her chest. Losing the trinket, Yuuka skipped twice across the surface of Gear Lake before vanishing under the waters.
Roaring incoherently, the Hulk trudged into the dark waters in pursuit of the others. His eyes first spotted the dazed form of Gildarts treading water a few yards away.
While Gildarts attempt to distance himself from the Hulk, the marine and the red-haired woman continued to tussle underwater. With the Masamune resting half-submerged along the lake’s shore, Doomguy threw hooks and haymakers at the woman as the two twisted and twirled down to the silt-lined floor of the lake. Hands still gloved, Kayleigh had to fall back upon her experiences in hand-to-hand combat, and while she was adept in such arts, much of her talents came from the power of the incomplete curse. She found openings to strike at the marine but felt as if her attacks made little impact on the sneering visage of her assailant.
Was she to be undone by a fucking lake?
A fist crashed into her brow and darkness momentarily engulfed the woman.
The Hulk proved too fast for Gildarts, who found himself flailing the water as an oversized green hand closed around his metallic ankle. A moment later, the mage was soaring through the air and back into the cold, unyielding embrace of the shoreline.
“Hulk SMASH!” The beast roared as it lunged out of the water and landed with an earth rumbling thud a few paces ahead of the now thoroughly shellshocked Gildarts. Trying to backpedal, he took aim at the lumbering monster’s feet and willed them to immortalize. After a few more paces, the Hulk suddenly found that his feet had been engulfed by stone.
With some shreds of clarity starting to rise through the haze of drugs, Gildarts took to his feet as the behemoth struggled against the bindings. “Suns already gotten real low,” the man spoke softly as he attempted to turn his charms onto the monster. Despite its ferocity, the Hulk seemed to relax for a few fleeting seconds.
That is, until the charged blast of energy slammed into its chest. The impact was enough to knock the bound Hulk straight onto his back.
“Oh come on!” Gildarts shouted as he turned to face a waterlogged Yuuka. “I had th—”
The green-haired woman fired, catching the mage in his leg and buckling the metal joint. In the background, Doomguy emerged from the darkness of the lake to collect his sword and started to trudge toward the wounded mage.
“I think you just pissed him off,” Gildarts muttered as the Hulk smashed free of the immobilizing spell and lurched up off the ground. The beast smiled, flashing a set of now bloodied teeth before it lumbered forward and proceeded to level Yuuka, sending her crashing into the sand. Turning sharply, the Hulk saw that Gildarts was attempting to limp away, and the monster hopped—coming down with one of his massive green fists right on the back of the man’s wounded leg.
The metal limb crumbled like an empty can of (the delicious and refreshing) Pepsi as Gildarts fell once more to the sand.
Now looking for its final adversary, the Hulk glared at the site of the sword-weilding marine.
“I’ve killed plenty of things that could have shit you out after a large meal,” the Doom Slayer chuckled as he rushed into combat. Ducking and sliding under a punch, the marine swung the blade and landed a long, arcing slash across the Hulk’s abdomen. The monster screamed out in frustration as it stumbled forward—its balance shaken for the first time in a long while. When Doomguy bashed the sword’s hilt against the base of its spine, the Hulk toppled to its knees and nearly lost consciousness.
“Goodnight,” Doomguy sneered as he went to bury the sword in the monster’s heart.
Instead, a lancing burst of flames crashed against his chest, robbing him of the glory kill. The marine’s craned his neck and glared daggers at Kayleigh through the smoldering embers that still lashed across his chest. The woman’s arms and eyes seemed to be subsumed by literal flames as the powers of the incomplete curse surged within her frame.
“Stupid hell-bitch,” Doomguy replied as he broke into a sprint. Bursts of fire scalded his arms, chest, and face, but he did not relent. For her part, Kayleigh’s smug confidence didn’t waver until the blade slashed across her gut. As she fell backwards, the woman lost consciousness. “Now then,” the marine sneered as he hoisted the sword up over his head.
The crash of magic slammed into Doomguy’s back, shredding apart flesh before sending a burst of searing energy through the marine’s already beleaguered body.
Dropping his extended arm, Gildarts tried to catch his breath as he looked down to his metal hand. He opened his fingers to reveal the little red and white sphere tucked into his palm.
24 Contestants Remain
Gildarts has won the Easter Egg (PM inbound)
The Hulk has absorbed another Major Injury
Gildarts has a partially crushed (metal) leg (Major Injury)
Kayleigh has a wide laceration across her gut. She’ll need to find some mean to wrap that up or invest in extra hands to keep her organs inside (a Major Injury)
Doomguy has burns across his arms (Minor Injury)
Yuuka was pressured into using an application of Focus
Everyone has been teleported back to their square by the collars. Easter Egg provides no cooldown protection from F2Fs.
Face to Face
#X Sutor Woriya & #15 Cho & #11 Sigmund Vrell & #05 Gilgamesh & #03 Mickey Mouse & #01 Arthur Morgan & #28 Deadpool & #08 Ellie Vaughan & #12 Toga vs #04 Kopaka & #26 Nico Cinder & #29 Kefka & #09 Mugen vs #21 Frieza vs Nega Pepsiman & Nega PepsiWhirda Prize: Pepsi Products
In a flash of light, each of the partners were ushered up to the mountaintop by their collars, with the exception of the two parties who had been traveling alone the prior night. While many of the contestants had spent hours of each day weaving and scrambling their way alongside the mountain’s lower passages, this was the first time that many of them had ever traveled this high up the much beloved Mount Infinity. Up here, the summit was close to being flat, although there were a few rock formations which had stood the test of time. Ahead of all of them, though, the summit did incline upward about twenty feet before terminating on a final stretch of flat earth adorned by a simple shrine. Nestled atop that shrine was a plastic cooler filled with an unknown quantity of Pepsi products.
Up here, they were above the gray clouds that still blanketed much of the island, and that meant that overhead the skies were clear and dotted with twinkling stars. Under any other pretense, it would have been a gorgeous night to relax and stargaze.
Unfortunately, the people who had assembled on the mountaintop had mostly gone there to pursue the cooler and its limited contents. For some, this was an attempt to strongarm the competition. For others, this was their last gambit. And for yet some other individuals, this was one final opportunity to make good on their duty.
With a crackling hiss not unlike the sound a two-liter bottle makes when you twist it open, a frothy deluge of Pepsi crashed into Mount Infinity at the bottom of the shrine hill. The caramel-colored nectar flowed down the slight incline, washing past the feet of the various assembled contestants, who watched as a man in a spandex suit stood up from the splash site. Humanoid in size and shape, this figure wore a blue and silver suit stylized after the swooping Pepsi logo, which he likewise had emblazoned upon his chest. Around his neck, he wore a simple necklace of puka shells.
“Pepsiman?!” Mickey Mouse squeaked as he stepped forward and lifted his hands in confusion. “But… b-but why?”
The masked figure turned to the mouse and put his hands on his hips. Before he spoke, all of the assembled fighters saw the faint glow of the figure’s red eyes beneath the spandex suit. “I am no foolish mascot, you insufferable rodent,” he decreed in a villainous British accent. “I am…” For a moment, a faint grey aura flared around the evil mascot.
“Nega Pepsiman.”
Not to be upstaged, reality suddenly split apart next to the vile soda monster. Pepsi spilled forth from the rip as a gray-skinned woman clad in a hooded blue driver’s suit—one emblazoned with other additional corporate sponsors—emerged from the soda vortex. Cracking her neck, the woman set her glowing red eyes upon the assembled fighters, killers, and miscreants.
“What the f—"
“I was contractually obligated to be here,” the sneering woman replied as she drew a pair of kukri from her belt. The weapons glowed with a faint Pepsi aura as she casually spun them at her sides. “I am Nega PepsiWhirda, and your deaths today are sponsored by PepsiCo, where we don’t just hydrate, we eviscerate.”
“Oh phooey,” Mickey muttered as a blast of Pepsi sent him bowling head over heels back toward the edge of the summit.
Frieza, the alien warlord and one of a handful of resident sadists, opened the bout with a salvo of energy beams.
Gilgamesh likewise returned fire against the Nega Pepsi fighters with his and Mickey’s freeze ray.
It was at this point that the entire situation started to come unglued.
Sutor, flanked by Sigmund and Cho, set their eyes upon the cooler. Two enemies. Three Babylonians. They liked their odds, especially with the variety of firepower at their disposal. “Split them!” Sutor shouted in her layered voice. “Divide and conquer is the only way to overcome this challenge.” With that, the trio opened fire on the male half of the Pepsi twosome. Laughter rained down upon them as the Nega warrior moved to intercept them.
From the other side of the summit, a diminutive voice squeaked out an unlikely accord with the Babylonians. “Got it!” A Pepsi-soaked Mickey shouted mid-sprint as he charged passed Gilgamesh and lunged for Nega PepsiWhirda. The mouse landed on her chest and grabbed two fistfuls of her hood as he plopped back down to the ground. Jerked head-first toward the ground, PepsiWhirda cursed beneath her hood as she lashed out with the kukris. She heard a yelp and the sizzle of blood being carbonated as Mickey withdrew. In his place, an armored Ellie Vaughan rolled in and crashed shoulder-first into the smaller-framed woman.
“Make it bleed!” Toga chuckled as she rushed up next to the mouse.
“I don’t think it actually bleeds, uh… blood,” Mickey pointed out as a blow from Ellie crashed into the Nega fighter’s jaw and caused her to spit up Pepsi.
Seeing the reality of the mouse’s words, Toga glanced down at the little creature and crinkled her nose a little. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Are you going to tell me you bleed ink next?”
“Uhh, task at hand!” Mickey managed to shout just before Ellie and Nega PepsiWhirda suddenly dropped into a bubbling tear in the fabric of reality. A beat later, a freefalling Ellie could be heard up over their heads, and Toga and Mickey were forced to jump out of the way to avoid being crushed by the armor-encased woman.
***
As Mickey and Toga made comments about the nature of Pepsi blood, Sutor and her sidekicks allies found themselves on the defensive against Nega Pepsiman. Each time it seemed like they were pressing an advantage, the ground was suddenly alive with terrible founts of warm, pressurized Pepsi. The scalding blasts sent them scrambling and forced to reset their tactics nearly every time.
“We can’t keep up like this,” Cho shouted as he dislodged a nearby rock formation and pulled it into an oncoming stream of cola. The stone lurched back at him a few feet before settling in his geokinetic grip. Even the occasional blast of energy or telekinetically projected piece of rock from Frieza wasn’t enough to shake the mascot monster’s resolve.
“Yes, we can.” Sutor snapped back as she fired a beam of ki. The blast carved through a stream of Pepsi and landing a partial blow on the creature’s shoulder—a glancing strike but a successful one nevertheless. “It is still just one warrior against three.”
Failing to understand the irony of her own words, Sutor pressed her attack as Cho frisbee’d the shield to Sigmund. Armed with shield and stone, the twosome acted as a makeshift shield wall for the artillery that was their Emperor-turned-Empress. Attempting to work and move in unison, they pressed across the summit toward the shrine’s malicious and sugary guardian. Scalding rivulets of Pepsi occasionally slipped through, leaving blistering wounds on the faces and chests of Sigmund and Cho, yet even when Sigmund took a splash to the face, he swallowed down a scream and pressed forward.
Sutor, charging ki into her palms as they closed the distance, counted each step the trio took. When they were within range, she screamed the order and her defenses split apart as she hopped into the air. Slamming her oustretched palms together, the gestalt smiled at the raw power she felt coursing through her body. “Final Flash!”
Nega Pepsiman managed to turn his attention just in time to be struck head-on by the energy attack, which erupted with enough force to cause part of the summit’s edges to shudder lose and trigger avalanches further down Mount Infinity. On the other half of the summit, the group fighting Nega PepsiWhirda ducked and covered their heads as a thick fog laced with the occasional piece of rock washed over them.
Landing calmly back behind her associates, Sutor felt her momentary euphoria start to waver as enough of the fallout cleared away to reveal a writhing pile of latex and bubbling Pepsi. As she watched, a humanoid shape started to reform. “Anyone have another plan?”
“I do.” A cold, robotic voice intoned as a rocket screamed across the summit.
“Watch out!” Cho shouted as he shoved Sutor into Sigmund. The two toppled into a heap as the earth bender receive the full brunt of the rocket blast for his troubles.
Looking up from the dirt, Sutor scowled at the site of the crippled robot and his even more mangled associate. “Time to finish this bullshit,” the fusion seethed as the air around her glowed with golden energy. Rising to her feet, she set her eyes on the pair and lifted a palm to smite them.
“FOR SCREAMSICLE!”
A clown crashed into Sutor, and a moment later, Sigmund felt the sting of someone bashing a rock against the back of his head.
***
As the situation on the other side of Mount Infinity’s summit degraded into something else entirely, Mickey Mouse caught a glimpse of what was unfolding and felt fresh horror grip his heart.
“No, that’s not how this goes. We have to wo—” a kukri sliced the air in front of his face, narrowly missing him even as it spattered Pepsi into his eyes. Flailing his limbs, Mickey felt his feet leave the ground as a Pepsi-forged cyclonic prison plucked him into the air.
Firing his freeze ray with helpless abandon, Gilgamesh pondered the capsule that seemed to be burning a hole in the satchel tied to his waist. He even paid a quick glance to the object before shaking his head and focusing on trying to contain the nimble Pepsi warrior. Every bolt of frozen Pepsi he shot down was replaced by two more, and even with Toga playing the long game, they struggled, much like their peers had moments earlier.
“You must all select inferior forms of hydration,” Nega PepsiWhirda mocked as she vanished and reappeared behind Gilgamesh. The king grimaced as he felt the soda-covered blade punch through his side. “Our Pepsi products are made with all-natural sugar,” the red-eyed woman muttered as she twisted the blade. “May you experience full hydra—a”
A red lightsaber erupted out through Nega PepsiWhirda’s chest, spraying heated soda in a series of quivering arterial spurts as the mascot lurched forward. Pulling off of the blade, she turned to see a cowboy armed with a lightsaber. Behind him, an idiot in a red suit waved to her.
“Really love the new look.” Deadpool declared happily. “Really make you extra punchable.”
Nega PepsiWhirda scowled as an assortment of floating Pepsi-kukris formed in the air above her head. Tilting her gray visage, the edgelordess threw her palms forward and released the swarm of carbonated blades at her adversaries.
***
Mickey, of all people, knew that the situation was out of control. Even worse, it wasn’t even the perversions of his pals Pepsiman and Whirly Windstorm behind the worst of it. Having broken free from the Pepsi cyclone, he splashed down with a wet thump and tried to reorient himself. With Pepsi still clinging to his fur and inside all of his orifices, the mouse struggled terribly to get up and pinpoint the others.
Outside the mouse’s current sensory range, Sutor collapsed as a grinning Kefka fell on her. Cho was still writhing in pain, and Sigmund had managed to occupy the three other cripples for the moment. The fusion got a knee up and sent the Magitek night sprawling. “You were stupid to pull this shit,” Sutor growled as the gestalt’s usual composure started to break apart amid the bubbling frustration.
“You killed my pet.” Kefka intoned as he rose up to his feet.
“Then let’s settle this, Jester.”
Before Sutor could spring into action, something dropped onto her back. An arm hooked under one of her armpits as Mugen used his mangled stump to try and bludgeon the fusion into submission.
“Enough!” Sutor growled and got two fistful of Mugen’s clothes. Before she could remove the bug, Kefka hobbled over and slammed a fist into her gut. The fusion coughed as the air was driven from her lungs, but it was her tongue that was grabbed next.
“You killed my pet,” Kefka repeated as he yanked on the tongue and proceeded to bite clean through the frog-like appendage.
The gestalt screamed as she reeled back. Mugen found himself once more crashing into unforgiving earth. Rising to his feet, the samurai managed one final smile before the beam of ki blasted a hole through his chest the size of a dinner plate.
Mugen collapsed in front of Kefka, who found himself suffering from the slightest twinge of the blues before he slurped down the severed tongue.
“Surprisingly salty,” he remarked before throwing himself behind cover.
Sutor shifted her bloodshot eyes to where Sigmund was being restrained by…
The mouse?
“Stop!” Mickey shouted as he tried to put himself between the three. “We’re losing the bigger fight and all of you are trying to kill each other!”
“Step aside,” Kopaka intoned.
“I can’t.” Mickey declared as he saw a snarling Sutor with a chin drenched in blood stalking over. “Help me talk the—”
The mouse ate a BFG blast and didn’t stop moving until he crashed into the dead corpse of his friend Mugen. “Oh… oh no,” Mickey muttered as the sting of tears tugged him into the realm of the unconscious.
Nega PepsiWhirda, despite leaking Pepsi from a few grievous wounds, was still agile enough to dodge circles around the group.
“Goldielocks,” Deadpool gasped as he tripped and fell into Gilgamesh. [color]“You should let my new best friend use the gun… it’s his thing.”[/color]
Gilgamesh growled as he shoved off the mercenary. “YOU are the first one I will murder once these Pepsi mongrels are dead.” Instead of getting a smug reaction from Deadpool, Gilgamesh ate a wave of concentrated soda that knocked the gun up into his air. The mercenary caught the gun and turned to the cowboy.
“Trade me!” He shouted as he threw the Freeze Ray. After he had caught the lightsaber, Deadpool blew a kiss to Gilgamesh. “He’ll give it back, he’s got morals or some shit. You can’t raise ducks if you gots no morals.”
The king wanted to rise up and crush that smug face, but he also wanted to close his eyes and sleep for just a little … bit …
Arthur fired wide of the monster as the two girls moved in toward the shrine. Ellie stood out in front and was able to absorb much of the oncoming onslaught, but the warnings on the suit’s display were flashing brighter all the time. The cowboy was attempting to cut off the retreat of their opponent, but even though he was succeeding, none of them knew how exactly they would destroy it.
***
Sutor crashed into the ground with the wet smacking sound a puddle of Pepsi makes when a human-ish body lands into it. Although battered almost to the point of being passed recognition, Nega Pepsiman was lurching toward them.
“Just stay lo—” Sigmund’s words were lost in the roar of the BFG-infused rocket.
The gestalt crawled to her feet and moved just as Kopaka and Nico fired another unison attack. Separate, they would likely be dangerous insects, but working in concert, they were royally fucking over the Empress/Goddess and her quest for mastery of this island.
“Done… playing,” she groaned as she rolled away from a Pepsi blast and started toward the twosome. They had maintained their entrenched position long enough through their superiority—a frontal assault would have to do.
As Sutor charged, his eyes momentarily met those of Frieza, who appeared to almost be daydreaming.
“Don’t trip,” Frieza mouthed as he gestured toward Sutor’s adversaries. As the gestalt tried to switch her focus, she jumped and managed to avoid the full force of the BFG-rocket attack. Carried on the force from the explosion, she crashed and landed sharply a few yards from Nico and Kopaka, who moved as swiftly as they could to adjust themselves.
One shot… Sutor pointed a finger and fired a beam of ki.
Blind as a bat, Nico never saw the attack that pierced the front of the rocket.
Kopaka managed as much distance as he could before the compromised Rocket Launcher exploded.
Rising to her feet, Sutor grinned as pieces of Nico fluttered down to her feet. “Good riddance,” she remarked before turning her attention back to Nega Pepsiman, who found himself dealing with a revived mouse and a heavily concussed Cho.
Sutor managed two steps before the metal exploded through the front of her ribcage. Eyes wide with horror, the fusion looked down as the handless arm of Kopaka was wrenched out through her back. Knees collapsing, Sutor watched as the Mouse managed to cleave the latex head of Nega Pepsiman off only to have the time to turn and see Kopaka’s mission succeed.
By the time the mouse reached Sutor, the woman was already one the ground.
“Duty.” Kopaka wheezed as the toa used his other hand to rip off one of the corpse’s ears and toss it aside. He had just wrenched off the second one when the vibranium shield smashed through his compromised chest and out through his back. Vision failing quickly, the toa managed one final scowl at the mouse before he collapsed onto the body of his final victim.
Nega PepsiWhirda had been cornered in a makeshift igloo. In ‘painting’ the structure, Arthur had taken some inspiration from his old partner Kopaka, unaware that the machine had just died a few moments prior. Arthur crept down the tunnel, hoping to join the two girls and Wade as they battled the cornered monster. He arrived just in time to watch as Ellie was sent yelping through the six-inch wall of the igloo, which caused the whole structure to start shuddering around them.
“Bad luck all around,” Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself as he fired a freezing blast to cut off the soda monster’s escape.
“Let’s bring the house down.” Toga shouted as she sent the Power Pole crashing up into the roof of the igloo. A moment later, the structure collapsed, but even as it did, a cowboy, mercenary, and teenager managed to throw themselves to safety alongside a winded and armor-compromised Ellie.
“Did we kill it?” Toga wheezed as they all turned to see the pile of collapsed ice shards.
“It looks like it,” Gilgamesh spoke from behind them as he stepped forward and snatched his Mickey’s freeze ray back from the cowboy. “Where’s that fucking mercenary?”
***
Almost all dead.
Mickey found his eyes wide as he looked at the corpses—and pieces of corpses—that surrounded him. How would people be so cruel? This was supposed to be a GROUP event. People were supposed to set aside their rivalries and gamesmanship for ONE MOMENT.
“Did we win?” Kefka groaned as he shambled out and collapsed a few yards from Mickey.
“Yes, I think I did.” A cold voice intoned as Frieza started to walk by, BFG in one hand. As the alien passed, he tossed something from his other hand that bounced off of Kefka’s chest and landed in the ground between the Magitek Knight and the mouse.
Something that was sizzling.
Mickey screamed and dove away as the dynamite exploded.
Kefka, however, was not quite as lucky, and he went to join Screamsicle.
“Too easy,” Frieza sneered as he made his way through the dense smog toward the shrine. He had managed to reach the base of the final incline when a sharp pain caused him to reflexively grit his teeth to keep down a yelp. Craning his neck, he saw that the mouse had hacked off his tail with the shield. Pulling the shield free from the gorey wound, Mickey glared up at the villain.
“We were all supposed to be pals here.”
“Wrong call, mou—”
Before Frieza could finish his threat, Mickey’s hand was severed with a hum of energy. The mouse screamed as he looked up to see a smiling Deadpool, lightsaber in hand.
“I just can’t fucking help myself sometimes,” Deadpool chuckled before Frieza blasted Mickey backwards with the BFG. The mercenary laughed as he turned to Frieza. “Kick a man when he's down and stroll off with the good shit. That’s the Marc I know!"
A BFG blast sent Deadpool rag dolling backwards.
…
…
…
#09 Mugen DEAD
#26 Nico Cinder DEAD
#14 Suwako Moriya DEAD
#19 Victor Wolfe DEAD
#04 Kopaka DEAD
#29 Kefka DEAD
16 Contestants Remain
<Winners of Pepsi Products)
Ellie = Diet Mountain Dew (1 Focus)
Mickey = Pepsi (Heals 1 Major Injury)
Sigmund = Diet Mountain Dew (1 Focus)
Arthur = Diet Mountain Dew (1 Focus)
Cho = Pepsi (Heals 1 Major Injury)
Ellie’s knock through the ice wall led her to be impaled through the abdomen (a Minor Injury, as the armor ‘tanked’ it down from a major before breaking)
Frieza has had his tail chopped off (a Minor Injury)
Cho is concussed and has some swelling in his brain (a Major Injury)
Mickey’s broken right hand has been cut off (Minor -> uncurable Major injury)
Toga broke a few fingers from too much poling (Minor Injury)
Deadpool got shot in the chest (Minor Injury)
Gilgamesh has suffered just generalized wear and tear (Minor Injury)
Sigmund V has third degree burns on his shoulder (Major Injury)
Arthur has a bruised shoulder (Minor Injury)
Ellie’s Praetor Armor is destroyed
Frieza has used one stick of Dynamite
Frieza has taken the BFG
Mickey receives the GPS
The Rocket Launcher is destroyed
The Phone and Potara Earrings are there for the taking…
Mickey Mouse was pressured to use one application of Focus
Frieza has used one application of Focus
Ellie Vaughan has used one application of Focus
Arthur Morgan was pressured into using one application of Focus
Everyone may either stay and fight for the earrings or be teleported back to their square by the collars. Boss Battle provides no cooldown protection from F2Fs.
Face to Face
#08 Ellie Vaughan & #12 Toga vs #01 Arthur Morgan & #28 Deadpool vs #11 Sigmund Vrell & #15 Cho
Frieza, Gilgamesh, and Deadpool had already blipped away from the mountaintop.
Sigmund and Cho, however, opted to stay behind to attend to the corpse of their leader. With the fusion concluded, the bodies of Victor and Suwako had been resting in an almost gentle repose, aside from the identical eye wounds and the jagged hole each had through their chest. “Victor would have made… preparations,” Sigmund whispered softly. “Karl warned everyone that death was a possibility, and the Emperor would have made arrangements to ensure this wasn’t how he met his end.”
“I hate to be that guy,” Cho whispered as he caught the approach of some of the other combatants. “But what about the jewelry? That Pepsi was delicious, and I’m not sure how it can heal a concussion… but those earrings were powerful artefacts as well.” Cho spotted one of the Potaras still glittering beneath an indiscernible mass of bloody ear. He reached out for it when the cowboy’s shadow fell over him.
“Speaking of those earrings,” the voice was that of Arthur Morgan, who now stood behind the remnants of Neo New Babylon. In his hand, the cowboy already had one of the golden baubles. “I got shot over those trinkets, so I’m thinkin’ I’ll be takin’ what’s rightfully mine.”
“You tell ‘em,” Deadpool remarked as Toga and Ellie moved toward the scene of the conversation.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but the only one here pretty enough to pull off earrings like those is me,” Toga replied before glancing back at Ellie. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Ellie remarked. “Hand over the earring.”
Cho and Sigmund shared a knowing look before the High Priest gave the reply: “No.”
The cultist twisted and fired the nailgun as the assembled vultures scattered. Cho grabbed hold of the earring and immediately began to destabilize the ground around the two of them. Reaching deep with his earth binding powers, he started to rip apart the plateau, deigning to wash away all these scavengers in an avalanche of biblical proportions.
“Shut ‘em down!” Arthur shouted as he ducked the Power Pole and tossed the lightsaber to Deadpool. “You gonna make me hit a little girl?” He asked Toga as he sidestepped the extending weapon.
“Is that a promise?” Toga sneered before a jogging Arthur smashed his boot into her face. A moment, Toga vanished as Arthur turned his focus back to the others.
Ellie and Deadpool, meanwhile, had turned their focus to Cho, who was guarded by Sigmund and the nailgun.
“Oh shit, the Pepsi monster is back!” Deadpool shouted to Ellie as the two broke into a sprint toward their foes. When the woman furrowed her brow and glanced to their left, Deadpool casually raked her back with the lightsaber.
Mind clear from the crisp, refreshing taste of Pepsi, Cho could feel deep into the mountain beneath his hands and toes, The rumbled of the collapsing summit became a roar as Sigmund stood up and slashed with his bladed hand at the approaching mercenary. Deadpool let out an audible ‘oof’ but still managed to crash into Cho on his way to the ground.
“Cho!” Sigmund shouted as he turned and delivered a kick to the masked mercenary’s gut. As Deadpool rolled away, he flashed a ‘thumbs up’ Arthur caught him before he fell back into the growing landslide. The mercenary jiggled the earring and blew a raspberry behind his mask as everyone was teleported back to their squares.
16 Contestants Remain
Arthur Morgan and Deadpool have the Potara Earrings
Sigmund receives the Cell Phone
Cho drank Pepsi! He is no longer concussed (minus one Major injury)
Deadpool has a slash marks down his back (Minor Injury)
Ellie has a cauterized blade wound across her back (Minor Injury)
Sigmund V used one application of Focus
Arthur Morgan used one application of Focus
Deadpool used one application of Focus
Everyone involved in this Face to Face has been returned to their squares from before the Boss Battle and are all on cooldown for 8 hours or until they leave their current square. They may waive this F2F protection via PMs.
A manic grin split Frieza's face as he stared down the other contestants, covered head to toe in blood, BFG in hand and adrenaline pumping fire through his veins. His plan had succeeded, and the once serene peak of Mt. Infinity was now a wasteland of carnage. Though he hadn't won any of the restorative prizes, nor had he killed quite as many fellow competitors as he'd set out to, his gambit had undoubtedly paid off.
...Aside from his tail, of course, and the one who had severed it.
Mickey glared up at him, eyes burning with anger and pain as he clutched his severed hand. When he spoke, however, it was purposeful and calm. "You there. Who are you?"
Frieza laughed haughtily. "You may address me as Lord Frieza. I must say, you demonstrated some excellent skill on the battlefield. I don't suppose you would consider becoming my underling?"
"Seriously, fella? No goshdarn way."
Frieza smirked. "What a shame." He cast a glance at the mouse's partner--a regal-looking man clad in gold. Hm. BFG or no, it was still two on one, and he was still injured. "In that case, may we continue this battle another day. I'll be waiting."
And with a click to the button on his collar, he teleported away.
“Oi. What did you do with Natsu?” Gildarts had his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed with a grimace. He had yet to make up his still-messed up mind about the situation. Everything was out of place. Yet, his wandering eyes fell on the oozing slash between her torso and her legs.
Shocked, he swiftly glanced back up at her face which was growing shades paler by the second. Ever the veteran, he knew exactly what to do. He pushed her into his arms and gently dropped the injured woman onto her back. He could see panic was consuming her. He could feel her radiating screams clawing him backwards toward distant memories.
She had looked down.
And seen grotesque mutilation of her own flesh but this time she was feeling it with her own skin. With all her battle wounds, she’d only ever been immediately healed, but the contraption on her neck made that impossible. She was in the arms of a still-stranger, she was utterly helpless as her crimson coated hands attempted to contain the tangle of unraveling organs.
Gildarts unrobed the characteristic bandages covering his own mangled torso, revealing the deep scars of transparent skin and the narrowly-thin tint that webbed around his ribs. He shoved a random stick in her lips, which were wide with an eternal scream. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” Gil’s masculine voice cut through her high pitched shrieks. The warrior’s stern eyes matched into the Eudora’s eyes as he nodded and she knew her job was to bite.
Immediately he started wrapping around her abdomen. The battlemage cut the fabric ribbon with his teeth and pressed down. To his surprise, the skin of his hand began to blister and burn as though her skin was covered in acid. The flicker of shock withdrew itself from the mage’s warm brown eyes. He couldn’t find it within himself to speak more words. His concentration and the lingering effects of fruit kept him in and out of sanity. He needed to finish before being pulled back.
Yet, pain antagonized his mind. Prodding, probing, flooding his eyes with images that were far from his bloodstained reality. He refused with every molecule of his being to not let it show.
Comforting confidence exuded from her caregiver. Kayleigh had first felt gentle tingles, but as he tied the bandages tight, she let out a low-toned moan of chilling agony. Tears sizzled off her cheeks. Her eyes were glossed over and looking up toward the shadow-washed canopy of leaves, her hair damp with sweat and battle-grime. Suddenly the gnawing sensations constantly pulling on her stomach were gone.
Her eyes pulled from the pleasant place and fell on her nurse. Gildarts was holding his freshly pink hand close to his chest, fighting a grimace as he felt her eyes. He exhaled with force and met her gaze, “You’ll make it.” Gildarts assured with a look of unadulterated knowing.
This seemed to reassure the noblewoman, who let her head lay on whatever forest mush was propping it up. The pain was now more of an ache than a throb. Meanwhile Gildarts tried to untwist his mind, squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on the things his body could feel. He then spoke to her only coherent temporarily, “I can give you something for the pain. But it’ll take you far away.”
“Tch.” He winced deeper and found himself unable to open his eyes while he coddled his fire-bitten fingers. Things were beginning to unravel and flow away. His breath became loose and he opened his eyes. The pony on his shoulder whispered in his ear yet again.
“I don’t think she looks too good. But you stitched her up right… At the cost of your only good hand.”
“It was worth it.” Gil said in response to the little plushie. Kayleigh assumed the mage was talking about their prize. For a brief pause, she thought her crazed companion was back with her. She had little energy to move, let alone talk. Her lazily eyes fell on her stomach's savior. Kayleigh adjusted her pain-soaked body and noticed he was smiling. It seemed a little out of place.
“Oi, Natsu! At least it didn’t cost you an arm and a leg.” The man had waved his silver hand around and looked at his crumpled prosthetic. He poked the metal's shiny wrinkles with his finger.
The peace within his mind's calamity hadn't lasted long.
The brunette exhaled the heft of her disappointment. Yet she knew he had managed to stay awake long enough to suture her wounds. Old nameless had fought not only his whirling mind, but also her flame-woven skin. The woman's eyes shut the world into darkness. Resting on her lips was the slightest curl of a relaxed smile.
Neither of us were in much state to resist sleep when it finally came to us, between the wounds, the booze, and the disappointment of losing another chance at one of Karl’s little presents. I had to deal with a new set of burns on my arms courtesy of some flame spewing witch, and my stomach wound had now worsened with the introduction of a further gash from some robed punk with a clawed glove. Jason and Freddy, I should consider myself so lucky. Yuuka fared better, though I watched her skip across the earth like a cannonball when we got jumped by a bigger green threat than both of us. After that fight in particular I was unsure what was the worse feeling: Losing, or being denied a kill several times. The sword laid across my chest was dependable, but my night was filled with dreams of the smooth finish of a gunbarrel and the rapturous sounds of heavy firepower.
It was not to be for long, as the sun washed over me. Shift in temperature may have been the start of my day, but it was a blitz of thoughts of potential danger that shot my head up from the clump of leaves I was using as a pillow. Paranoid swept up my mind as I held the blade aloft, looking to see which ass clown had tried to jump us at the peak of the sun. To nothing, the only change from last night being the welcome rays of the sun upon us.
The only other thing to worry about was my partner’s whereabouts, and she was left coiled around a patch of flowers that had grown nearby. I moved to a sitting position, bolts of pain raced across my abs, and I forced my hand over the wound. Pain was nothing new to me, but my day could have been better without the constant fear of my stomach lining collapsing and having my organs spill out.
Yes, I get the irony.
“Morning.” I stated, and received a slight stir in response. She was no early riser, that’s for certain. I had shuffled last night’s second dinner and an empty bottle of booze into a baggie by the time she was wiping sand from her eyes. “Suns up, sleepy head.”
“Always a warm welcome, Mister Sun.” The flower girl said with a relaxed grin as she reached for the clothes we had hung up on trees before we had collapsed. Much of the water had drained out, but we were far from dry.
“Good. We go-” Whatever else I had to say was interrupted as a sudden wash of dread ran over me. A sweep of the area showed nothing, and yet the feeling stuck like a bad mood. I had to focus. My breath slowed, my heart steadied. A rumbling, above us. It had grown louder, and soon that dread increased ten fold as I realized it was growing louder and more violent. My eyes shot up to the top of the mountain, where dust tore through the side as a rock slide ripped the face of the stone into a furious downpour of earth. And it was coming our way.
“Move!” I ordered as I swept up my bag and raced away. I could hear small pebbles raining down on the cliff above us, and I glanced back to see Yuuka, and quickly yanked her to my speed. We fled as boulders turned the idyllic hot spring into a horrorshow as it was buried under a hail of boulders.
Mickey Mouse lunged. The slight, alabaster-skinned frame of that dastardly Freezer fella whipped and melted into a bright flash of light as he reached out with his only remaining hand. He tripped through the space where the villain had been, growling rabidly and baring his teeth. He’d gotten away.
A gold-plated arm wrapped around him from behind and hoisted him into the air. He furiously glanced back, flailing in Gilgamesh's grasp. He hadn’t even heard the King of Heroes come upon them.
“Mickey,” the young man shouted, tightening his grip around the mouse king’s waist. “It is time to leave.”
“No!” Mickey protested, but Gilgamesh’s use of his first name knocked down his guard enough that his ally was able to jam the hilt of the freeze ray onto the button on his collar. The mouse’s eyes widened as he began to warp within Gilgamesh’s grasp. Behind the gilded monarch, Mickey watched as several competitors had begun to eye the remaining bodies with some interest, leveling their weapons for another fight.
As he disappeared into thin air, a thirst for vengeance transfigured into debilitating worry. He tried to call out for Gilgamesh, but the scene was already gone, replaced by the cozy cave they’d taken shelter in during the storm.
Their campfire still crackled, but Mickey’s screams drowned out the noise.
***
It was several minutes before Gilgamesh reappeared.
Golden-plated armor whirled into the cavern, the crack and pop of the teleportation momentarily interrupting Mickey’s sobs. As he took in the pathetic scene laid out before him, Gilgamesh scoffed.
“You may be a good person but you’re weak-spirited,” the king groaned. “Some hero.”
Mickey sniffed, pushing himself onto his feet. “No,” he bit back. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie with his only remaining hand, and tossed something tiny to the gilded king. Gilgamesh snatched the GPS out of thin air, and inspected the device.
The king looked back to Mickey. “What is this?”
“Press the button.”
Gilgamesh did as he was told, and the device hummed to life, little green dots popping up all over its grid. Drawn loosely on the screen was the shape of File Island. The King of Heroes knew immediately the device’s function, but nevertheless, he counted the dots to confirm for himself. He smirked. “So we hunt, then?” he asked with great interest. “That is what the noble mouse would like to do? I must admit -- I am more than a little surprised.”
“They were killing each other, Gil,” Mickey scowled deeply. They killed Mugen. “I know that’s what this game is about, but -- that Freezer guy. Kopaka.” He looked away. He couldn’t bear to let Gilgamesh see the fury crackling beneath his eyes. “I wanna give them a taste of their own medicine. I want…”
“...justice?” Gilgamesh offered.
“Justice,” Mickey Mouse repeated with a nod. His thoughts flew back to Mugen’s crumpled form bunched up on the ground. He’d swiped the GPS from his pocket before going and finishing off Kopaka, before standing up to Freezer.
The pictures of all of them flashed in his brain -- the Toa, the purple-stoned dude, the strange girl who bore a striking resemblance to Vicky. They’d betrayed their fellow competitors’ trust, and for that, he couldn’t forgive them. What did they have left in this stupid multiverse if they couldn’t find a way to trust others? If Gilgamesh could prove trustworthy, he expected it of everyone.
“Those jerks. Those…”
He huffed. Some curses came to mind that he wouldn’t let himself say. And, well, there was one other word that might fit.
Face to Face
#03 Mickey Mouse & #05 Gilgamesh vs #21 Frieza
The mountaintop was only hours behind them.
It was either dumb luck, fate, or something in between that brought Mickey Mouse to Frieza just a short while removed from the showdown with the Nega mascots.
“What a lovely turn of events,” Gilgamesh shouted as he stepped out and fired the freeze ray at the tailless alien warlord.
Sneering, Frieza hopped backwards and fired the BFG. The concentrated burst of plasma slammed into the tree next to Gilgamesh and showered the monarch with shards of charred wood and shattered branches. “I think I’ll enjoy this one,” Frieza spoke as he depressed the trigger and fired a second blast that prompted the bald headed king with the barely-golden gear to melt back into the trees.
“You won’t,” a diminutive voice spoke from next to the alabaster-skinned alien.
“The mouse,” Frieza remarked without turning away from the trees. The changeling’s stump of a tail twitched ever so slightly as the little rodent slunk out to confront him. “Come to attack me again while my back is turned?”
“Then turn and face me,” Mickey spat back as Frieza turned and fired the BFG. Much to the alien’s chagrin, the little creature sprung up off the ground and hovered there. With visions of ripping the mouse’s limbs off and seeing how far they’d bounce, Frieza pulled the trigger again as Mickey used the jetpack to evade. In another time or another place, a ‘wahoo’ would have been appropriate, but not in this setting with the scowling, justice-crazed mouse king.
Frieza felt a sudden chill as the freeze ray brushed his left leg. Grimacing, he twisted and fired—knocking a now smoldering Gilgamesh backwards.
Seeing his moment, Mickey Mouse jetpacked downward and crashed feet-first into the partially frozen limb. Something cracked underneath the alien’s skin as Frieza literally bit down hard enough to cause blood to start pooling his mouth. He would give this little piece of vermin no satisfaction, and even though the simple motion caused him to nearly black out, he craned his body and fired his toy once again. It was a glancing blow, but it sent the airborne mouse twirling backwards.
“Too easy,” Mickey rasped in a voice not altogether different from Frieza’s own.
When the BFG blasts started to come once again, the mouse melted away to join his partner.
16 Contestants Remain
Frieza’s left leg is broken below the knee. A splint is needed to move without worsening the wound (Major Injury)
Mickey Mouse has some burns alongside his chest and arms (one of yer common Minor Injury)
Gilgamesh’s Minor Injury from the boss battle is now upgraded to a Major Injury, thanks to additional bruising and plasma burns
Everyone here is on cooldown for eight hours or until they leave their square. This can be waived through PMs.
The faint brightening of the pre-dawn, but still cloudy, sky dimly illuminated a large expanse of water near the center of the island. Gentle, lapping waves moved along with the breeze, and brushed up against the nubile forms of two woman bathing near the shore. Toga gingerly rubbed the cool, clean water of the lake between her fingers, wincing as even the slight motion sent lances of pain coursing down her arm.
Nearby, her companion was likewise doing her best to clean her wounds without causing herself undue duress. Their night had been a complete and utter disaster. Ellie’s armor has shattered under the brutal attacks of their Pepsi-themed, they’d both been injured during the battle, and all they really had to show for it was a light, green can of Diet Mountain Dew.
With a loud growl, Ellie slammed her fists against the water, her frustration as apparent as the ripples echoing outward.
“FUCK!” she shouted, hitting the water again. “Why the Hell did we think that was a good idea, huh? We should’ve just stayed here, and we’d be a lot better off for it.”
With a light-hearted laugh, Toga slipped through the water towards Ellie. “Aww. It wasn’t THAT bad. At least I finally got you out of that armor,” she finished with a toothy smile.
The older brunette struggled to keep herself from laughing, and whirled about to face the younger girl. “Oh, come on! It’s not the time to be playing around, Toga! You aren’t mad about this? We might’ve died out there, all because I thought we had a chance to get ourselves something useful! Hell, it’s a miracle we survived, and all we managed to get was a single can of soda. Doesn’t that upset you?”
The teenager’s eyes stared off into the middle distance for a moment, as her thoughts drifted back to her childhood. Being the youngest of five daughters, born to a middle-class family in the suburbs wasn’t all gumdrops and sunshine. Her parents both worked, so she was often watched and cared for by her older siblings. And, any sign of anger, or frustration, or any inkling of disobedience was dealt with harshly. Both by her siblings and by her parents. Hours spent in a dark closet, begging to be let out because she was scared. Bruises carefully placed to be hidden underneath clothing. Verbal beratements which hurt more than the physical beatings.
So, she’d quickly learned to hide her feelings behind a wide smile. To pretend to be okay when she wasn’t, and to swallow her feelings deep down where they wouldn’t bother anyone. Because if she could pretend to be happy, then her family would be happy. And if they were happy, then she could pretend they loved her.
“Of course not!” Toga replied to Ellie’s question, her smile growing wider. “Why would that upset me? I’m having soooo much fun!!”
Sigmund and Cho once again found themselves sitting across from one another, contemplating what they had been through. The high priest bit his lip, trying to figure out what to make of the day’s events. A jolt of fiery pain shot down his shoulder whenever the fabric of his stick, Pepsi-soaked robes rubbed against it, but it was nothing he couldn't grit his teeth and bear. Cho’s state wasn't far from the cultist’s own, though the broken arm was more worrying in the long run than the burn.
“Failure…” The voice in Sigmund’s head hissed. The cultist felt himself shrink down a little from the disappointed tone of the rasps, even though he knew it was a mere hallucination he couldn't shake the shame that the earrings had slipped through his fingers. On the bright side, Sutor wouldn't be an issue anymore. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't help but sigh with relief as he realised that the amalgam wouldn't be coming to finish him off. “Vrell… You will… Fail...”
The high priest found himself in an arms race against his own hallucinations, one he seemed to be winning. Though they were growing more insistent, with the warping and writhing of the world around him persisting even while in full view, he had stopped reacting to it. As it had not yet been so fully formed that the cultist believed he had been attacked, he found himself increasingly apathetic to the unsettling sights and sounds.
Harder to ignore was the very real threat that the pair may die at any moment, which only seemed to grow with every passing day. Though Sigmund very much enjoyed his bladed glove, the major firepower that their enemies were bringing to bear was quickly making the comparatively crude weapon obsolete. The psion ran his bare hand through his hair, wondering what he should do before wincing as he accidentally touched the sore spot.
“We should really try and steal a better weapon.” The scholar thought to himself before scowling. It wasn't as if they hadn't thought of that, but every time they tried to procure some new arms it had gone sour. The earrings, the sword that the burly man had wielded, the earrings again. Nothing seemed to stay in their hands. The only exception was the incredible shield Cho was wielding, and even then Victor had been the one to take it. Sigmund found himself longing for the Manic Codex, wanting nothing more than to hold the eldritch tome in his hands and to call forth the ancient power of Gal’skap once more.
“Let's get moving soon.” The cultist said with a little sigh. Hopefully their luck would turn around soon and the pair would find themselves brandishing some shiny new weapons. If not, well, Sigmund feared they wouldn't have long to bemoan their poor fortune.
And suddenly, in a whirl of metaphysical energies and displaced air, they were back where they’d been before attending the massive brawl between both contestants and… other folks.
Arthur stumbled as his body materialized, boots scuffing against the ground as they struck it. Though his stomach reeled and his vision took a moment to stop spinning, it was clear he was getting used to the whole teleportin’ business, for it weren’t long before he felt right as rain once more… save for the aching bullet lodged in his chest, anyway.
Brushing off the remnants of sticky, sugary soda pop clinging to his arms, Arthur glanced around at his immediate surroundings, sheltered under the awning of a tall, candy-striped building constructed entirely out of toy blocks.
Beneath this awning was where they’d been standing prior to pressing those tiny little buttons on their collars. A mismatched assortment of toys was scattered all around, littering the vibrantly colored settlement— these toys ranged from balloons to dice to gargantuan stuffed animals, stacked from the slate gray cobblestones up to a myriad of rooftops painted in every hue of the rainbow. Arthur didn’t know why a place that looked like a child’s fantasy had been dropped plum in the middle of a death game, but he wasn’t about to question the welcome reprieve from the elements it offered.
By the time they were returned to their former position on the island, however, the rain seemed to have let up, though Arthur could still hear thunder rumbling in the distance like a massive oil drum. There wasn’t much sunshine to speak of, clouds blotting out the sky, but Arthur supposed that was good enough weather for traveling. He and Deadpool really needed to be gettin’ on, if they hoped to avoid certain disaster at the hands of the other contestants. Their little prize would only serve to bring them nothing but trouble, he was sure of it.
Speakin’ of trouble, where the hell was Deadpool?
The former outlaw huffed to himself, a frown already beginning to crease his face. He moved out from under the awning’s shade, stepping out into Toy Town’s main street. A thin covering of fog drifted around him, vaporous mist obscuring many of the various buildings from view. He couldn’t see neither hide nor hair of his costumed partner and self-professed ‘best friend.’
“Wilson?” called Arthur, voice scarcely raising about a low rasp. “Wilson!”
Silence answered him. The quiet dragged on, and as it did so, Arthur began to grow uneasy. This weren’t like the merc at all; usually he was right next to Arthur, chattering about something or other and generally being a masked menace. It were almost unnatural, not getting a response like this.
Taking another few steps out into the street, eyes and ears straining to catch any sign of Deadpool, Arthur allowed one hand to stray to the lightsaber he’d clipped to the belt loop at his hip. His fingers twitched, dancing lightly across the smooth, cool metal.
Wilson wouldn’t have… made off with the loot, right? It certainly did seem to be in his character, of course, but Arthur hadn’t thought he’d go full bandit so soon. Somehow, it almost seemed like his partner’d just up and vanished into thin air, leaving naught but a creeping silence and dead space behind.
Despite the cheeriness of his surroundings, Arthur shuddered. Surely those teleporter doodads hadn't failed. He didn’t want to imagine the gory, splattered mess that would be.
Growling under his breath in frustration, the former outlaw wheeled around, voice raised above the rooftops. “Wilson!”
“SSSssssshhhh! I’m up here!”
Arthur turned around in a hurry, craning his head up to see… Deadpool. Sprawled across the blocky house’s roof. Flat on his back and limbs all splayed out. Arthur could hardly believe his eyes.
“What are you doin’?” Arthur wanted to know, and rightfully so, too.
“Doing my best impression of a paraplegic Spider-Man,” said Wilson, twitching a little. “Actually, the teleporter thingy in my collar doohickey got all kinds of fucked up, dropped me up here.”
“Can’t you just…” Arthur gestured helplessly between Deadpool and in the general direction of the ground.
“No! I’m trapped up here, forever and ever. You’ll have to go on without me, find someone equally (but not quite) as devilishly handsome to continue our epic bromance. Never forget me, Arthur. Keep the memory alive...”
Arthur sighed heavily through his nose. He considered the distance between the roof and the ground for a long moment, gaze alighting on a conveniently-assembled tower of blocks propped up against the building. He sighed again, this time with more feeling, and made his way over.
“Fine, have it your way,” the ex-outlaw turned his blue shirt up at the sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows. “I’m on my way up.”
He managed to loop one leg up and over one of the blocks, pulling the rest of his weight up with his arms. Arthur huffed a little as he did so, the vigorous activity putting a strain on his injury, fresh pain blooming anew in his chest. Still, he pressed on, determined to reach his ‘best friend.’
At last, Arthur reached the top of the block pile, and with one final heave and a grunt of exertion, he’d toppled over and onto the roof of the strange building. For a moment he simply laid there, panting, his newly bruised shoulder throbbing and chest aflame. Eventually, though, he rolled over and onto his feet, daring to edge over to where Deadpool’d apparently collapsed to the ground.
The view of Toy Town from above would have truly been a sight to behold, were it not for the merc slumped at Arthur’s feet. Standing over his ally’s fallen form, Arthur planted his hands firmly on his hips, one eyebrow cocked. “Can you stand, partner?”
“Nooooooo,” groaned Deadpool, limbs flopping about uselessly like a half-dead starfish. “You’ll have to carry me down.”
“You can’t be serious.” Arthur blanched at the mere thought. Sweat was already running between his shoulder blades, white-hot pain registering in all the places where he’d been battered, bruised, and shot. He didn’t know if he’d survive hauling Deadpool down there, not to even mention the trip they’d need to make out of this place.
Yet, he needed Wilson. And, he had to admit, he’d developed a bit of a… soft spot for the feller’s near-constant chatter. It was kind of like how one might grow used to a particularly chummy parasite, Arthur suspected. As much as it might hurt him to drag Deadpool down from the rooftop, it’d eat at his conscience even more so to leave him for the vultures to pick at.
Heaving another great sigh, Arthur leaned down, grasping Deadpool with one arm tucked in the crook of his legs and the other supporting his back. He staggered a bit under the merc’s surprising weight, teeth clenched as his hurt shoulder fairly screamed in pain.
“Ooh, bridal style!” Wilson crowed, as Arthur slowly toted him over to the edge of the rooftop, preparing to hoist him down the unconventional ladder. Arthur, for his part, merely rolled his eyes up at the sky, a sardonic curl at the corner of his mouth.
The effort it took to get Deadpool back down to the ground was immense. Arthur was pretty sure he nearly died in the attempt, and strongly considered just dropping the merc the rest of the way whenever he got too rowdy. It was thus an intense and immediate relief to reach the good earth once more, and Arthur was all too eager to dump his unwanted cargo to the ground.
Unfortunately, it was not meant to be so, for no sooner had Arthur’s boots struck the pavement when Deadpool sprang from his arms, bounding away from Arthur like a hyped-up kangaroo.
It was a long moment before Arthur could form a coherent sentence that wasn’t composed purely of sheer, incoherent rage.
“You… you tricked me!” snapped Arthur, attempting to snatch Deadpool by the scruff of his costume and missing by an embarrassingly large margin.
“Hah! You should’ve seen yourself. All worried and gruff-looking, like a sensitive lumberjack. I bet that will sell ratings like nobody’s business. Rolling up the sleeves was a nice touch, duck-lady. Very trashy romance novel-esque.”
Arthur fought to keep the extra ruddiness from showing on his cheeks, a scowl twisting his features. He suspected he failed when Deadpool only crowed some more upon looking at him, clapping his hands together in delight. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“You can try, but I think you’ll second-guess yourself when you take a peek at these babies,” drawled Deadpool, rifling through one of the packs attached to his belt. He produced two earrings, the dangling, vibrantly golden orbs clinking lightly together.
Eyes widening, Arthur reached out and took one when it was offered to him, rolling it into the palm of his hand. His fingers grasped around it, curled up tight.
Was this all he and Kopaka had fought and nearly died for? A damn piece of jewelry? No, there had to be something else. Something less.... Obvious. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t remember what that something else was supposed to be.
“What’s it do?” asked Arthur, looking up from the marble-like shape clutched in his fist.
Deadpool shrugged, but the white ‘eyes’ of his mask had a sly look to them that Arthur didn’t like. “Dunno. Let’s find out, shall we? Hopefully we don’t turn into some kind of murderous loli, huh?”
As Arthur observed in bemused silence, Wilson clipped one of the Potaras onto his right ear, then gestured for Arthur to do the same with the other. Frown still firmly in place, Arthur raised the other earring to his left ear, snapping it onto the lobe with a faint click.
For a moment, nothing happened. Arthur was just about to tear the damned thing off, curse a blue streak at Wilson about playin’ dress-up and actin’ a fool and endangerin’ their lives when a strange whitish-blue pulse emanated from the marble-sized orb dangling beside his face, nearly blinding him with the strength of its glow. Glancing over, he could see that Deadpool’s earring was emitting the same energetic pulse, and weren't that just something—
A low, vibrating phhhmmmmmzzzmmmmm sounded beside his ear, and suddenly it was like Deadpool and he were the only two space rocks rooted in some distant asteroid belt, drawn together by one another’s gravitational pull. Stumbling a bit, Arthur flinched as their bodies made contact, shouting in surprise at the electric burning sensation lighting up between them.
With a dazzling flash of light, Arthur and Deadpool were no more. Instead, what had once been two separate entities fizzled in the air where they’d stood, a dynamic mixture of energy and brain waves and sheer, unadulterated matter all coalescing into a single, distinct shape.
“Huh,” said a voice that was at the same time gruff and animated, old and young, Arthur and Deadpool. “This is… mighty fucking peculiar.”
“This brings us to within ten more deaths of our Finale, but this isn’t the time to get complacent! Hunt your foes, lest they hunt you! The following are new danger zones that will kill your ass in six hours:
B7
E8
F8
C8
E7
“Take a moment to remember your loved – or hated – ones and move on with your lives. Ta-ta for now.”
Out-of-Karl Bulletins
As we reach the inevitable conclusion of this event, I just want to make a comment on danger zones. No, not threatening to blow you up if, I think we got that point. Just that, as long as people are posting and moving, I’ll likely stick to just a few of them each phase. But if I get the impression that people are either turtling (not movin’) or possibly fatigued (not posting), I’ll adjust the ‘shrinking’ of the island accordingly. I don’t want to go overly long if it means burning out the remaining contestants, but I also don’t want to force a quicker end game if people are enjoying their storytelling.
“Let’s get moving soon.” The High Priest sighed. Cho nodded a few times, wincing all the while as he nursed his broken arm, cradling it into his midsection. He pulled the cloth sash from his waist and, with the help of Sigmund, fashioned a makeshift sling. Having his arm held in place relieved a little of the constant, dull aching of the break, though it was in no way a long term fix. He’d have to find some other way to heal it.
“Could really do with another one of those Pepsis about now. No idea what was in that thing, but if it can heal a concussion, it can probably heal a broken arm, right?” Cho questioned, not really looking for an answer, but to clear the stagnant silence the pair found themselves in. “Oh, here..” He continued as he pulled the nailgun from his side and tossed it to the High Priest.
“I can’t do anything with that and the shield now. But, I can still Earthbend with one arm. Hell, I could Earthbend with no arms.. As long as I can move either my legs or an arm, I’m good.” As if to emphasise his point, he slammed his foot into the ground, creating a little seat of rock for himself. “I’ll keep the shield in case anyone gets up close, ‘cause I can still go through the movements, y’know? I can’t aim with that thing and bend at the same time. It’s probably better in your hands.” Sigmund nodded, inspecting the nailgun for a moment.
“It’d be pretty sweet to get a hold of something other than what we’ve already got.. Our weapons are kinda tame, huh?”
“It might be an idea to find another weapon. I just worry about the state we’re in, currently.” The cultist spoke, a hint of concern present in his voice.
“I guess. Who knows what we’re gonna run into from now on. Everyone else seemed pretty beat up as well.. Six died trying to get the Pepsi.”
“We’ll see. We should get moving, though. Sun’s up.” Sigmund glanced about his peripheries, apparently tracking something on his eyeline in the trees up ahead. Cho hesitated a moment, glancing over to where the High Priest was looking, only to find he couldn’t see whatever it was he’d picked out.
“How.. What d’you.. I mean.. How are you feeling after watching Victor die? He said he could bring himself back, right? Is that a thing? What if he’s.. Dead dead?”
“HELLO?!” Hellooooo…..Hellooo...hellooo, echoed through the darkness. “What is this place?!” Is this placeeee...is this placeee….is this place…, the echo continued.
There Kayleigh was, darkness surrounding her. She was either left blind by the fight for the mysterious ball or died when her companion attempted first aid. Beneath her bare feet there was no floor, or so it seemed. It felt solid but the darkness veiled everything. The warrior lifted her arm up high, “Hng..Come on,...COME ON!” Eudora screamed with frustration as she failed to activate her flames. It seemed she couldn’t even function as a second rate torch right now. Frustration and helplessness took over, was this what hell is supposed to be like? Eternity in obscurity of twilight? It would be effective, no one could enjoy their own company for aeons, madness would surely descend upon the weak human mind.
“I have no intentions of playing games!” Passed the maidens’ lips.
Words sparked her surrounding, flames erupted surrounding her, drawing a perfect circle with her in the middle. It had been years since Kayleigh felt the heat of flames on the skin of her face. The heated air made it difficult to breathe. Forcing every breath inside her lungs the maiden was fighting just to stand. Speaking was out of the question. Her emerald eyes searched for an escape route but instead found images within the flames. Flashes of her life were being displayed within the searing blaze. Death of her fiance, family, teacher, everyone she ever cared about that has fallen victim to the flames. And now, here at this place, she had to relive this shit all over again.
“W-.....Why..” Kayleigh finally managed to gasp out with what little air she could hold. Tears evaporated before giving a chance to roll down her cheeks. The inferno was scorching the inside of her lungs, there was no way she could survive this torture any longer.
The conflagration reached new heights, and the ironic master of fire now fell victim to the flames herself. Dropping down on her knees, gasping for air, slowly suffocating in what she could only perceive to be hell itself. From knees to the floor, the oxygen deprived body smacked down as a result of starting to give out. With one eye open Kayleigh managed to catch a glimpse of the final few flashes, her fighting along victor, the battle alongside the crazy bastard and...that same geezer skipping along the forest with the pony on his shoulder. That idiot…
Eventually Eudora gave in and her eyes closed. The orange-red glow could be seen even through her shut eyelids, this was it…
Flames and pain began to mold into one large tormenting experience, it travelled from her head, hands and feet towards the centre. No matter how much Eudora attempted to scream in pain, no air was left to do so. The conveyed around her lower abdomen.With all the pieces combined the collective jolt of severe pain forced her eyes open and shouted from the top of her lungs, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
She was back...she wasn’t dead. Her eyes darted left and right while fresh air filled her chest. Heart beating at an exceptionally high rate, but she was alive. A few meters to her right she noticed Gildarts sitting on a rock, mumbling to himself until he noticed his patient woke up, “Natsu! I am so glad you’re okay! How are you feeling?”
Here he goes again with his Natsu thing.
Kayleigh winced when sitting upright. Her wound was deep and fresh, but it was a wound, an actual wound. It worked, the fucking collar worked!! She did not come to the right place afterall. A smile appeared on her face and locked eyes with Gildarts, “Never better.”
Mar bent down and watched the brilliant fireball known as the sun peek up in the distance. Karl’s camera drones peaked around searching for the eco warrior, “Day 3 has started. Wakey Wakey…”
Jak wearily closed his eyes for a second, but they popped open after hearing the comet’s death totals. Was the eco warrior really a hero or just a challenged hero with two sides morally opposite of each other? Good was evil and evil was good in this twisted game called Dante’s Abyss. How many people could he trust on this island when he could barely trust himself?
He knew that when he signed up for this game, everyone had the same motives.
Survival..
There were sixteen folks left on Karl’s murder comet. How many were left alive and had joined forces in this game?
He was left with a pulsating ringing in his partially bitten off left ear and two entities planning out his next moves.
And the sound of his own memories to haunt him.
There were still others out there and a lot to think about as the morning dragged on. Mar chewed a MRE left and let it go into his stomach. He winced, he wondered how the Krimzon guard back home ate shit like this to be honest. Torn probably had an iron gullet.
What did it all mean if he didn’t come back from this?
He watched the memories of his friends pass his eyes, just fleeting shadows to tell himself to continue fighting.
The eco warrior wrapped his handkerchief on his foot to suppress the anguish.
He kept silent, checking the map and crossing out the dead zones as he wrote on the back those dead.
He felt a headache come on as once again his hands changed into claws. He took whatever he could find and sharpened it into a possible weapon.
Was this game getting to his head or was he just getting frustrated?
Face to Face
#27 Jason V vs #12 Toga & #08 Ellie Vaughan
The two girls had carved a path away from Mount Infinity. For some reason or another, Toga had started to walk away and deigned to give zero responses when asked why she had picked her direction. After a few hours, she finally gave a brusque: “Because I felt like it, okay?” With that, the teenager had dropped to the ground and started to rummage through what was left of their supplies. “I’m hungry. Can you get food?” She glanced up at Ellie, who seemed to be lost in thought. “Hey! Hey, are you ignoring me?”
“Hush, please.”
“Excuse me!” Toga flashed her teeth as she sprang up from the ground, but the sudden precense of a soundtrack in the trees around them froze her in mid-step.
chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh…
“Someone probably dropped their fucking phone,” Toga groaned as she dismissed her older companion’s paranoia and dropped back down to her haunches. “We got a bit beat up and you lost your fancy suit… it’s nothing to completely lose our shit about.”
“Something like six people died on that mountain,” Ellie whispered. “You don’t think you and I might be next?”
Toga let out an audible ‘tch’ as she rolled her head to look up at her companion. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she screamed as she gestured behind Ellie. “Oh my gosh! Behind you!”
The woman yelped herself as she twisted suddenly, her hands forming tight fists in front of her chest as she waiting for something to attack her. Instead, she heard the faint snickering of her underage companion. “You’re unbelievable.” Ellie scowled without bothering to look at what was undoubtedly a gloating smiled on Toga’s face.
Yet Toga wore no such smile. In fact, her eyes were wide and her skin as a bit flushed as she stared up at the hulking man in the rotting clothes and the hockey mask.
Scratch that. The one armed man with a machete.
“Ellie…”
“I’m not in the mood for this, Toga.”
“No, Ellie, seriously! There’s a, like… machete guy here.” As she spoke, Toga was scooting backwards on her butt, and when she passed by her companion, Ellie got a glimpse of the genuine emotional response on the girl’s face.
“Oh, no.” Ellie muttered as she turned and found herself face-to-chest with the somehow still-waterlogged form of Jason Voorhees.
Leading with his forehead, Jason split open the woman’s forehead. She staggered and twisted to face Toga. Words formed on Ellie’s lips but the fall of the machete opened a great crimson gash along her back.
As Ellie collapsed into a twitching mass on the forest floor, Toga drew the pole and used it to push herself back up to her feet. Once up, she willed the weapon to lash out and crack into the man’s head. When that failed to elicit a response, she bit down on her lower lip, drove one end of the pole into the ground, and proceeded to fully extend the other straight into Jason’s chest.
With a wet squelching noise, the pole punched its way out the back of the killer’s ribcage. Lifting his weapon, Jason tried to walk toward but simply managed to further impale himself on the mystical wooden stick. His thick leg buckled as he collapsed forward, his bulk nearly collapsing onto Toga, who retracted the pole and skirted away as the wet body smacked into the ground. Her eyes immediately moved to the machete, which skittered away after crashing to the forest floor.
“Hey, Ellie!” Toga scooped up the weapon and turned to her friend, who had crawled a few feet from the immediate scene of the scuffle. “Lookit!”
Ellie rolled over, but instead of the oversized knife, her eyes moved to the bloody puddle. “Where did he go?”
“Who cares, I totally killed him… Look at this machete, how cool is this?!”
***
“Where did that guy go?” Kevin asked from his station. “He just sort of … blinked away and I can’t get a read on him. I thought we had implanted the technology directly into him?” The color had drained from the man’s already pallid countenance, and his peers in the observation deck seemed to share his concern.
Feeling to sensation of dread that had befallen the little room, Karl spun around and his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “We know by now that no one can kill that thing. He’s like a cosmic space revenant destined to forever reincarnate, kill teenagers, and die. Is this everyone’s first rodeo?” He asked the assembled group.
Kevin was the only one who volunteered a response. “Uh, yes sir. Sorry, sir.”
Karl’s lips twisted up as he glanced around at the nametags. “Yea, that’s right. I decided on a whole new batch…” The executive producer spun around in his chair. “I miss Barry,” he grumbled as he went back to watching the Friendship is Magic spinoff taking place on Island #20.
…
…
…
#27 Jason Voorhees UHHHHH?
15 Contestants Remain
The Machete is there (for clarity, this is not an actual ‘Weapon’ that would factor into an advantage – I just thought it’d give these two something extra to fodder about)
Ellie V has a deep cut down her back (Minor Injury)
Everyone here is on cooldown for eight hours or until they leave their square. This can be waived through PMs. [/spoiler]
Gilgamesh emerged from the tree-line, his golden chest piece presenting a gaping hole in the middle. His chest was bruised and burned, and the metal surrounding the cavity was melted, dripping hot gold onto the ground. Mickey launched himself with the jetpack over to his companion, readying his arms in comedically cute, kung-fu fashion. The Golden King had enough and took out the silver canister containing the viscous Malefactor.
“Do you wish to end your story here, mongrel?” Gilgamesh threatened, placing his hand on the lid of the capsule. “Yours wouldn’t be the first pathetic life I have ended here,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. Mickey turned to look at Gil and panicked when he realized what was in his hand.
The Mouse King’s bloodthirsty attitude reverted to his compassionate self. “Gil! What are you doing? We both know that that thing reeks of badness!” the mouse pleaded as he tugged on the King’s arm.
Frieza pointed his gun down and peered into the capsule. Bryan’s slimy form wriggled and squirmed, begging for another chance outside of his cage. “What kind of weapon is that?” the Alien prodded, before pointing his gun back at Gilgamesh.
“The extremely painful kind,” Gilgamesh growled. His hand twitched, and he gently toyed with the lid.
Frieza darted his eyes back and forth from Mickey and Gilgamesh before releasing his finger from the trigger. “This isn’t over,” Frieza grumbled. “Especially not with you, mouse,” he said before retreating into the forest. Gil waited until the Alien was out of sight before he collapsed onto the ground.
“Buddy!” Mickey shouted in panic before he hurriedly dragged Gilgamesh over to a tree, to rest his back on. “You gotta take better care of yourself,” he teased briefly before punching Gil in the shoulder. “Not funny by the way. Bryan is evil! Don’t use him again,” he nagged. His anger turned into worry when he noticed Gil’s breathing was ragged. “Woah, you really got hurt out there,” he said with concern, his gloved hand hovering over Gilgamesh’s burnt chest. The Golden King winced as one of the mouse’s fingers grazed his burnt flesh.
“Mouse,” Gil gasped in between shallow breathes. “We may not have much longer on this island,” he rasped. He pushed his back up the tree so that he was eye-level with the mouse.
“That’s quitter talk, Gilly,” Mickey smiled. “We are in this together! Friendship can overcome anything!” Mickey cheered sadly. Though his words were optimistic, both he and Gilgamesh knew that they were badly hurt.
“Silence!” Gilgamesh commanded, though raising his voice made him cringe in pain. “This is why you are not a King!” he scolded.
“Gil, bud. I hate to break this to you, but I am a King,” Mickey chuckled, trying to diffuse the tense situation his companion was creating.
“You do not act like a King,” Gilgamesh mumbled. “Creatures like that alien only know violence. You must know how to make threats if you want peace,” he whispered intently.
“That doesn’t make much sense, pal. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Mickey shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Do you see how he left?” Gilgamesh nodded his head towards the direction Frieza went in. “Diplomacy won’t work on him,” he said. “If I have to learn to be nice, you have to learn to be mean. For the sake of our people,” Gil cried out. “Fuck, agh,” he flinched in pain, his burn starting to ooze pus and blood.
Mickey didn’t know how to feel. He was always taught to make friends with others. Heck, even now, he had turned his lifelong enemy into a friend. And now he was being told to be mean? Could the mouse even do such a thing? Mickey shook his head. He would have to think about that later. For now, he would do what Mickey Mouse always does: care about his friends.
“Stay still and shut up, Gil,” the Mouse commanded, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the Pepsi they had won earlier. With his one good hand and his mouth, he cracked open the bottle with a TSSS unleashing its tasty, healing goodness™.
“No, Mickey, your hand,” Gilgamesh protested before the Mouse shut the King up by forcing the Pepsi bottle into his mouth and squeezing its contents down his throat. The Golden King choked on the soft drink, some of it went back up and leaked out from his nose.
Soon, the bottle was empty and Mickey placed it back in his bag. “Littering is bad, kids,” he joked with himself. Gilgamesh wiped his mouth and nose, cleaning himself from the sticky drink.
“Why mouse!” he shouted, curling his hands into balls. The burn was already beginning to heal.
“You told me to be mean,” Mickey shrugged.
“Even when you are mean, you are unbearably nice.”
Damn it all, damn it all! How had the rodent and his comrade found him so quickly?! Frieza hadn't even had time to dress his wounds from the previous battle, and yet he was already on the ropes again. Excruciating pain and the metallic taste of blood overwhelmed his senses, yet he still stood, fueled by rage and sheer force of will, and ferociously glared down his enemies.
No. He wasn't finished yet. It didn't matter if he broke every bone in his body, or if he was drained to his last drop of blood. He wouldn't be done until that mouse's head was on a goddamn fucking pike.
But then.
The mouse and his ally, both as badly injured as he was, fell back.
"Wh--" Frieza choked out indignantly. "Get back here! I'm not done with y--"
As he spoke, he shifted his weight onto his broken leg, and was cut off mid-sentence by the absolute agony of his shin threatening to snap clean in half. He bit back a bloodcurdling scream, and crumpled to the ground. His body had betrayed him. He could do nothing but watch as his foes retreated from sight to dress their own wounds and fight another day.
"Damn it, damn it,DAMN IT!!!!" he screamed, probably out of earshot of the mouse and his comrade. He slammed his fists into the ground until it broke apart beneath him, considered tearing his leg off right here and now to continue fighting. But it was no use. There was no way he could catch up to them in this state, and his mind had been so clouded that he wasn't even sure which way they'd gone. He clenched his fists until his nails punctured the flesh of his palms, and grit his teeth to the absolute limit of his jaw's breaking stress.
For a while, he sat, quivering in utter agony and rage. Then, finally, the cloud lifted, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, willing himself to stand straight despite absolutely every muscle in his body screaming at him to stop moving. Every step he took was like walking on flaming hot knives, and yet he kept limping, slowly, unsteadily, towards the nearest tree.
He stood before it, expression cold, and for a moment did nothing. Then, with a loud battle cry, he summoned all the strength in his body into a punch powerful enough to smash it to pieces. His breath came in heavy rasps, and his knuckles bled, but he tore apart the sturdy pieces of bark and fastened them into a splint, tightly bound with bandages he'd pilfered from File City. It did nothing for the pain, but at least now he was physically capable of standing.
The road below had been torn apart by the battle. The only way to go was up.
Most people would find the notion of going mountain climbing with a broken leg insanely fucking horrifying. Frieza was not most people.
It was absolute torture. He'd managed to find a long, sturdy stick to help keep his balance--especially since half his tail was gone--but he wasn't able to keep weight off his leg entirely, especially while still holding the BFG. The snapping pain in his leg was like fire, stoked on by every movement, yet he pressed on. Quite frankly, he wasn't even sure where he was going or why, but he hadn't the presence of mind to care. Onward, was his only thought, even as the slope of Mt. Infinity grew steeper and steeper.
He would not just lie down and wait to die.
When he came face-to-face with a daunting, near vertical crag, he didn't even think twice. He tossed his walking stick to the top, finally put the BFG back in the duffel bag, and started to climb. If walking had been torture, then there existed no word suitable for what he was experiencing now. Every time he hauled himself further up the cliffside, he felt himself on the verge of losing consciousness. But that would mean falling, which probably meant dying, which was not an option. Not here. Not now. (Not ever.)
After what felt like a fucking eternity, he made it. He made it to the top. He barked out a crazed, triumphant laugh, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
He didn't know how long he lay there--hours, probably--before he was woken by the sound of crunching gravel. Frieza, still fading in and out of consciousness, cracked an eye open and craned his neck upwards, and found himself face-to-face with a figure dramatically silhouetted against a gap in the clouds.
A figure clad in unmistakable red and black spandex, who struck a pose.
Artpool peered cheerfully down at the slumped form of his fallen (former) compadre. Freezy or somethin’. The guy looked to be in really bad shape, what with his busted leg and all. Well, Artpool was in bad shape, too, considering all of the combined injuries his two halves had sustained, and he suspected the rest of the island’s contestants were gettin’ to be a little worse for wear, as well…
If not, Artpool would hunt them down personally. He’d fight until he was the last man… amalgamation… thing alive, because he was a goddamn champion, by golly.
Which brought him back to the situation at hand. Freezy-yeezy.
Artpool squinted down at the white and purple alien feller, half his face left in shadow by the wide brim of his cowboy hat. Deep purple lifeblood formed a vaguely circular puddle under Freezy’s body. He’d apparently been plopped down here a while, judging by the marks of that vibrant blood smeared across the rocky ground behind him; Artpool reckoned he’d been made to climb up the sheer side of the mountain, by the looks of it.
The fusion took a slow, measured step forward, boots crunching over a few stones, and watched in mild bemusement as the obviously weakened alien recoiled, red eyes flashing dangerously and dark-painted lips twisting into a feral snarl. Severe pain and rage mixed together to create an expression that looked almost like… fear? Uncertainty? Whatever the fuck it was, Freezy didn't seem all that happy to be feelin' it.
Well, well, well. How the turn tables!
Unfortunately, some part of the fusion felt like this was gonna be a little too easy, at least for right now. And dishonorable or some shit, Artpool didn’t care. What he did happen to care about, though, was just how he could turn the little alien’s misfortune to his benefit…
Still, he needed to establish a modicum of trust, here. Someone needed to put in the work for this relationship to survive, after all.
“Whoa there,” Artpool drawled, backing off a bit for Shorty Small’s comfort, but that didn’t stop the mockery from leaping off his tongue. “You look like you’ve been straight stomped, and… aw, is someone’s widdle weg broken? Who’d have thought you’d actually get hurt by somebody!”
Yeah. He was just spectacular at this diplomacy bullshit.
It was then that Artpool’s eyes happened to flick to the left. The white eyes of his mask widened comically, gaze landing on the massive gun resting at the alien’s side. The BIG. FUCKIN’. GUN.
A delicious crackle of energy sliced through the air, the humming crossguard lightsaber swinging around ‘til it was leveled at ol’ Freezy’s throat. The ignited laser sword seethed an angry red, the heat emanating off it mirroring the glare on Artpool’s masked face.
“That’s my gun. I believe I loaned it to a friend or some shit. How’d you come across it, feller?”
