“Welcome back,” Karl muttered. “It is Day 4, and you all remain two trinkets short of a working bauble. How are you supposed to macguffin yourself home if you can’t even collect six pieces that you can track with technology? C’mon. I’m rooting for most of you!
“Now then, let’s take a moment to honor our fallen:
“#08 Aster.
“With that said, here are the regions you’ll want to avoid in a few hours:
“O7
P7
Q7.
"Good luck out there. It's going to somehow get worse before there's a chance it gets better!"
Face to Face #09 Sigmund Vrell & #16 Kolith vs #20 Nico Cinder
“Hey, dudes!”
Kolith and Sigmund turned and had their weapons primed and at the ready. They found nothing, but the pair of them were both slightly startled when the same voice intoned from behind them once again.
“Not cool!”
They spun again, and the BFG blasted a charred path through the trees. From their left, the two spotted the man waving at them from behind a tree.
“That’s a terrible way to great company,” Nico Cinder muttered as he edged out from the tree and lifted his empty hands. “Yes, I got this rocket launcher, but as you can see, it’s not in my hands, and I’m not a ninja or a telekinetic wizard. Chill.”
“Everyone is a little… on edge,” Sigmund muttered as he stared at the teenager—young adult?—dressed in all black. There was an odd air around the dark-haired punk as he calmly walked toward the pair, and while he’d been battered and bruised the last few days, some reptile part of Sigmund’s brain was starting to scream. “I think Kolith and I are okay traveling by ourselves,” the psionic cultist remarked as his companion flashed him a look.
“This one seems strange, but he doesn’t seem untrustworthy,” Kolith muttered without looking away from Nico’s now twitching right eye. “Then again… are you okay?” The savage inquired as he crept his finger back toward the trigger of the BFG.
Nico’s head snapped in Sigmund’s direction as the youth started to droll from the corner of his mouth. “What’s the matter, Sigmund Vrell? I thought you would miss your old friend.”
Sigmund drew the energy sword and stabbed forward as the weapon flickered to life. A hand grabbed him by the wrist as Nico’s other hand, now wholly coated in a dark black flesh, leashed out like a rubber band to smack the BFG off-target. As the weapon discharged into the woods, Nico turned to Sigmund, and the cultist watched with great displeasure as the punk’s face vanished in the rising tide of shuddering black flesh.
“Gal’skap preserve me,” Sigmund muttered as those twitching white eyes open and that yawning, endless maw of serrated teeth parted.
“He can’t hear you here, Sigggggmund,” the Malefactor cooed as a serpentine tongue lolled out of its mouth before stretching and caressing the cultist’s face. “Close enough,” the monstrosity muttered as he lunged forward.
The BFG blast crashed against the Malefactor’s chest—the heat enough to singe Sigmund’s clothes as he was also propelled backwards by the concussive force.
His ears ringing and his nose overwhelmed with the scent of burnt clothes and charred alien flesh, Sigmund groaned as he sat up off the ground. Despite everything, he flinched when the heavy shadow fell over him, but the deep voice of Kolith came as a welcome, relaxing reprieve.
“Are you okay?” The Vessel of the Elder Spirits intoned as he helped Sigmund up off the ground. “Is that one of the unmade?” He asked as they both turned to see that the Malefactor had vanished.
“No,” Sigmund whispered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “It’s... it’s somehow worse.”
“If it burns, we can kill it,” Kolith replied softly as his ally drew his other handheld weapon.
Pessimism gurgled just to the edge of his lips before Sigmund opted to keep it to himself. This wasn’t a time for defeatism. The Malefactor had taken a new host… one that was clearly inferior to ‘da King’, and even when paired with Gilgamesh, the creature had been defeated. Surely, this scrawny new host would be weaker or less resilient? Sigmund felt something strangely foreign in the depths of his gut.
Hope.
…and then the rocket exploded at his and Kolith’s feet.
Sigmund bounced off a tree and landed with a thud about six meters from his companion, who had landed with a wet heap and remained unmoving even after a lengthy pause. Inactivated energy weapons still clenched beneath whitened, bruised knuckles, the cultist started to drag himself over to Kolith, but he was still far out of arm’s reach when the tribal warrior started to stir.
Pushing himself up from a prone position with the strength of the Elder Spirits, Kolith was nevertheless paler than he should have been. The man glanced down to see that the rocket blast had literally shattered one of his legs below the knee. His eyes surveying his surroundings, Kolith eventually met Sigmund’s gaze.
“Run,” the fallen man spoke softly.
“I’ve made it with half a foot,” the cultist replied as he himself dragged his bruised body up with the help a nearby tree. “You’re twice my size, you’re not done yet.”
Kolith smiled as he shook his head. Even so, the beast of a man mirrored his companion by managing to somehow pull himself up onto his one good leg. “I want you to run.”
“No.”
“It will be back soon. I will preoccupy it.”
Sigmund shook his head. He’d seen this shit before, and he didn’t feel like watching it play out again. “Together.”
A punk voice taunted the pair from the trees.
“You two are the worst,” Nico chuckled from somewhere over their heads. “Playtime’s over, though.”
The Malefactor dropped down and threw its toothy maw back in a guttural shriek. Kolith discharged the BFG, but one this occasion, the nimble monster leap frogged the oversized projectile.
Landing in front of a snarling Kolith, the Malefactor gave a simple grin before it opened its jaw impossibly wide and took a massive bite out of the man’s face.
Hobbling on his bad foot, Sigmund activated both of his energy-based weapons. He stabbed the bayonet into the monster’s side, prompting it to detached from what was left of Kolith’s skull with a wet, guttural shriek. Shifting its focus to the cultist, the Malefactor grabbed the man’s other arm before it could drive the energy sword into its chest.
“Gal’skap isn’t here,” the monster seethed before biting through Sigmund’s right arm.
The cultist twisted the bayonet and was promptly driven down to the ground by a tendril that erupted from the Malefactor’s chest.
Crashing down in a heap, Sigmund—vision swirling—caught the glimmer of moonlight on the shaft of the BFG. As the shadow fell over him, he willed the weapon into his good hand and discharged a blast into the looming monster’s stomach.
#16 Kolith DEAD
Sigmund’s right arm has been eaten (Insane Injury)
Malefactor-Nico absorbs damage (Minor Injury)
Sigmund Vrell used 1 application (stole BFG)
Nico Cinder was pressured into 1 application of Focus
Was it gone? What was that sound behind him? Was he almost there?
Sigmund’s mind was running a mile a minute, unable to process anything properly, just spouting off random thoughts that might serve to help him live a little longer. He wasn't afraid to die, but something about the thought of dying to that thing, his bane over two Abysses, made the bile rise in his stomach. So, the scion ran, stumbling and failing on his ruined foot but refusing to slow down. He ran until his body screamed at him to stop, until his traitorous flesh threatened to give out, and pushed it even further. He wouldn’t stop, not for anything, not until he was sure he was safe.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he stumbled into the field of the safe zone and crumpled into a broken heap, blood and sweat pooling from his body. As he landed, the cultist was sure to land on his back with the BFG clutched tightly to his chest in his good arm, handling the weapon as if it were his baby. Choking in heaving breaths, Sigmund gently laid the weapon down before rolling onto all fours, or rather all threes, clutching at his bloody stump of an arm.
Gods, it was agonizing! He had never felt anything so incredibly painful before in his life! And yet, even as tears reflexively pricked in his eyes, there was no disturbance in his soul. To lose your arm and feel nothing beyond acknowledgement of pain and loss, wasn’t that crazy?! Or was it crazier to vehemently accept a world where you could have your limbs torn from you in the first place?
“Ehe… ehehehe.” The psion began to giggle, resting his forehead on the ground as he keeled over and tore a bloody strip of cloth from his cloak and began to bind the wound. He felt his last MRE begin to rise in his throat as pain wracked his body, and yet, though he could acknowledge it, it meant nothing to him. Merely the pitiful tantrum of flesh far weaker than the spirit it contained.
“Ahahaha- urgh… AHAHAHAHA!” Sigmund began to cackle uncontrollably, even as a small blob of vomit projected from his grinning mouth. What a joke! Pain, fear, all of those ludicrous things, what kind of world would permit them to exist? No doubt some torture chamber constructed by the Pretender gods, a spiteful construct designed to punish the children of the Aesir. And to think, they called him mad as if they weren’t the ones who were so deeply attached to such a flawed world. To think that they would fight tooth and nail to prevent him from consuming this reality in madness, in maniacal laughter and feverish delusions.
The scion of Madness laughed until his sides hurt, crouched protectively over the BFG, his new tool of sacred cleansing. He knew that his pathetic body wouldn’t survive much more, that soon enough he would end up like poor Kolith, a good soul fallen victim to an uncompromising world. But in his short time, he would not just keel over and die. He was going to rage against the cruel joke of ‘reality’, and, if he was lucky, bring madness, deliverance, freedom onto those who were trapped in this nightmare. And then, they would suffer no more.
"Six hours," Sergeant Swift barked over the intercom. "I can't leave this FUCKING bunker to go kill the monsters myself, and I'm not going to go insane while you all sit around and cry and lick your wounds."
***
Everyone will be evicted from the bunker at the end of this phase, and while the bunker will still be at Square O4, it will be locked and the square will no longer make you immune from Face to Faces that occur on it. This will not trigger a massive F2F between all the evictees (kai, I'm not that awful, jeeze).
There is no longer a F2F cooldown period. Please bear in mind that, as noted in discord, I will be pretty busy, so even though there is no cooldown, you shouldn't be that scared as F2Fs likely won't erupt immediately.*
This is nearly the End Game phase of the game. After the six items make it back to the bunker, the surviving contestants will have a choice to make about how they want their End Game experience to be.
*this is not a 100% guarantee that they won't or can't drop at any point, though
The mad contestant woke up fairly close to his most recent confrontation and immediately began marching, ignoring the very obvious symptoms of a concussion. His horrifying jury rigged exoskeleton creaked and hissed as he used the rock he’d been resting against to climb to his feet.
“The face. Why is it always the face…” Star Eater muttered passively. Wilson wasn’t even sure his audience was necessary anymore. Ironically it seemed his traveling companion had a direct correlation between how much it hurt to talk and how much he actually talked, where one would assume it would be the inverse. Ketkin, seemingly a distant memory at this point, spent the first day with his mouth closed and his eyes and ears open. He barely got into any combat with contestants nor the local pests. Ket acted like prey. Star Eater however…
He left his saber ignited. Slashing aimlessly at tree and rock alike as he passed them. There were burn marks all throughout his clothes and body from his self performed amputations and prosthetic implants. He didn’t seem to mind.
“The pain sorta blends together after a while. It blends with my mind. I can separate myself from my pain no more than you could separate the salt from the sea. The weapons here aren’t meant to kill. They’re meant to bring pain. Pain for the contestants to struggle through and for the viewers to laugh at. So I’ll give them what they want. I’ll become pain. Like a battery in a completed circuit, constantly giving and receiving simultaneously.”
He suddenly turns from talking to no one in particular to yelling directly at both gods, the one with a capital G and the one with a capital K.
“IM HERE. THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR IS IT NOT? THIS IS WHAT YOU HAD PLANNED FOR ME?” He strikes another tree but follows all the way through and fells it instantly. His face cracks again from a crooked smile and starts dripping down his face. It would probably heal faster if he would just shut the fuck up, but he’s having far too much fun for that.
“God please let me see the clown again. Or the boy for that matter. I want to see them suffer from the pain I have caused them. I want to serve them second helpings… a blood sacrifice? Of course master!”
Ketkin rustles through his bag of scraps and finds something particularly sharp. He rakes it across his forearm just enough to leave a trail as he marches on.
“Drip… drip…. Drip… I know you’re thirsty master. I know you need more.” Star Eater chuckled. Wilson was paralyzed by fear. His fur was beginning to be stained in places from the careless blood slinging. He silently wished that he would explode soon so he didn’t have to watch this anymore.
The wretched beast formerly known as Father Gascoigne paced the length of the invisible barrier that was currently the only thing preventing his otherwise inexorable advance. His gigantic mutated hands, now warped into a rough facsimile of claw-tipped paws, dug frantic patterns into the dirt as he stalked up and down, up and down, up and down the length of the hidden wall, obsessively salivating and snuffling at the air like a half-starved tiger trapped in its cage.
For Gascoigne knew that his prey had come this way. Two of the ugly little beasts had fled north at great speed, darting like frightened foxes from the baying of a great hound. The other two had limped east, trailing blood and the putrid stink of fear behind them. Reveling in the thrill of the hunt and already considering the other two quite dead, Gascoigne had stalked behind the stronger, faster pair— and had eventually crashed against this. This… this phantom barricade!
A barbed, frustrated growl tore free from the mangled beast’s throat as he lumbered forward, hissing out from between the fangs lining his now grotesquely-stretched maw— his shredded lips now permanently fixed into the shape of a jagged, wickedly sharp canine grin. Heavy pants heaved from his shredded, blackened chest, the creature’s breath fogging before him in a cloud of fetid mist as drool spilled in thick, sticky globules from the corners of his mouth.
Little plague-ridden rats, hiding in their pitiful den of safety… pathetic, cowardly creatures. He’d find them, sooner or later, and all their beastly kin. He’d catch them. And when he did…
Ugly, warped laughter crackled in the air, echoing across Cevanti’s tarnished plains.
Face to Face
#04 Father Gascoigne vs #14 Dr. Caustic
Doctor Caustic had just left the confines of the safehouse to stalk the perimeter.
Unfortunately for the scientist, he had left behind the bunker without the knowledge that he was the one to be stalked on this occasion.
The monster’s screamed predated its arrival by a solid ten seconds—likely some attempt to cow a lesser man into terrified submission. While he’d taken his licks over the last few days, Doctor Caustic still had little to fear on this island, even as the six limbed beast crashed through the forest like some malformed beast that had beaten down the gates from Hell.
Narrowing his brow, Caustic took a moment to analyze the monster before he started to connect the dots. While the body was dotted with sinewy muscle, spikes, and cords of twisting tentacles, the shattered skull still had tufts of gray hair nestled beneath the jagged antlers that had burst through the bone. Hanging loosely across the monster’s impossible physique was the shredded remnants of the priest’s coat. At the center of its chest, a circle of unevenly sized spikes flexed and twitched. From a cursory glance, it seemed like the creature was in a state of constant mutation, with its vaguely human physique rapidly continue to expand and weaponize.
“Fall from grace, Father?” the doctor muttered as he drew the Desert Eagle and lined it up with one of the bulbous orange eyes that adorned the monster’s body. He eased back on the trigger and smiled as the rounds punched through the eyeball on the creature’s right thigh with a loud pop and an associated scream from their beholder.
Dropping so that its lower arms were on the ground, what had once been Father Gascoigne launched into a dash toward Caustic, who cursed softly at the nearly impossible speed of the massive, trailer-sized beast. After throwing himself from its path, the scientist popped up and returned to his surgical shots. Each satisfying eruption of ichorous bile brought a grin to his face. After all, who would be so idiotic as to design a monster with such visible points of frailty?
Father Gascoigne thundered forward again, but one of its legs collapsed under its bulk as it was shot out by Caustic. Carried by its own momentum, the monster slammed into the ground and cleaved a six yard ditch into the earth before it came to a rest a few feet from the smug doctor.
“Pathetic,” Caustic whispered as he reached back and drew the Death Maul. Swinging down, he bashed apart the monster’s skull with the first swing. The purplish and gnarled antlers shattered beneath the hammerhead as the doctor reared back and landed another clubbing blow against one of its clawed hands as it tried to swipe at him.
A third blow shattered on its lower arms, causing the heavy bulk of the monster to crash down to the earth once more.
“Pity on whatever idiot brewed you in a lab,” Caustic muttered as he lifted the hammer and swung back downward.
On this occasion, Father Gascoigne caught the hammer with a surge of ‘animal’ strength. Unable to win the show of strength or pull the hammer away, Caustic found himself staring wide-eyed as the monster’s body started to tear itself apart beneath its rapidly expanding bulk. Fresh, fleshless muscles seemed to bubble to the surface as talons and claws erupted forth from places where they had no sensible business being placed.
Entire limbs ruptured forth as the mutant’s chest tore apart as oversized tusks of jagged bone jutted forth.
Caustic yanked on the hammer, but as he saw the monster start to stand, he released his grip on the weapon and reached for his gun. Before he could line up a shot, a bladed appendage the size of a refrigerator crashed into his chest and sent him spinning through the air. The man came down hard, and he felt a handful of bones crack. Almost immediately, his hands went for a pouch on his side, and he came up with a syringe. With the monstrosity almost back to its multiple legs, Caustic plunged the needle into his arm and mashed the contents into his bloodstream.
The effect was almost immediate. Bones and muscles bulged outward as a little bit of his body’s wear and tear vanished away. Red crept into the corners of the man’s field of vision as he quite literally punched himself up off the ground and into a fully vertical position. Nearly fifty percent taller than he had been moments prior, the hulked-out scientist grinned with malicious intent.
Baring his own teeth, Caustic met the monster’s bullrush. A twisted heap of partially formed limbs and slime-stained blades was met with an angry fist as the doctor not only stopped the monster’s momentum and stepped up, hooked his other hand under its nearly impossibly wide form, and hoisted the thing up over his head. With an incomprehensible scream, Hulk Caustic tore his enemy’s arm from its socket and then one-hand threw its body into the forest.
Dr. Caustic sustained the equivalent of a Major Injury*
Father Gascoigne absorbs equivalent of Insane Injury* (supplants all prior injuries for tracking purposes)
Dr. Caustic used 1 application of Focus (Relic)
Father Gascoigne used 1 application of Focus
Dr. Caustic used ‘(Dr.) Swift Syringe’ and has given into his (science) rage to become ‘Hulk Caustic’
*Not descriptive, I understand, but one of you is a hulking man-beast and the other one is a fucking ever-mutating mutant.
John and the terminator moved inside the bunker, looking around. Something straight from the apocalypse of his time, except a few key differences, Connor walked around the area, eying what he could about the place. There were cots of varying size and shape, and not sure who else was inside the bunker with them.
The terminator heard banging on the anti-reflective shield on the outside but was cautious in case something did happen.
“John, we have limited time inside here. I suggest we take what we need and stock up for the road ahead.”
The Resistance leader simply nodded and ran toward the nearest fridge and stocked up with what he could for now, looking for medical supplies and whatever he could find inside.
Deadpool, seemingly curious, sat up from the cot he was in wearing a cowboy hat and a roman skirt.
“Well, who do we have here?” a light grin appeared on the slight mercenary's face.
Patrick was on his knee, hand extended towards the heavily wounded child. Next to him a bald man looked ready to gut him on the spot. Given how weak Patrick felt, that seemed plausible.
“And you’re the bald guy.”
Patrick observed Slurt’s many wounds. How devastated the child looked, not just physically, but mentally. What was Slurt even doing here?
“This shouldn’t have happened to you.”
Dr. McNinja startled himself awake, tumbling off the bunk and entering a combat stance. The soldier that had woken him jumped back, alarmed.
“S-sorry,” the soldier stammered, “Sergeant Swift is making all the DA contestants leave. Just thought you might want to know.”
Doc gingerly rubbed his eyes, absolutely exhausted.
“What time is it?”
“It’s still pretty early in the morning.”
“What happened to Slurt?”
“The child you had tied up?” the soldier said, a tinge of judginess in his voice, “He left with that Riddick guy. Don’t know where they went.”
Doc grimaced as he stood up. He reached instinctively for his coat, but then realized it was more or less shredded and used as bandages. With a heavy sigh, Doc slung his bag over his shoulder and saluted the soldier.
“Hey, don’t get Unmade out there,” Doc said as he slipped past the soldier.
“Uh, you too, sir.”
***
”Jester is dead.”
“We know,” the man named Riddick replied.
“Right, the collars.” Patrick looked at Slurt. “She cared about you. She asked me to protect you.”
Slurt looked up at Patrick, his eyes despondent. Patrick gave him a sad smile.
“So even though she’s gone, I want you to know that she isn’t really gone. She lives through all of us. And we’re… We’re gonna get you out of this mess.”
But Patrick knew he wasn’t getting through.
Ugh. This is why he hated walking alone.
Dr. McNinja marched along. He could see some other contestants in the distance, but honestly, he wasn’t interested in talking to anyone else, let alone fight someone. Especially when he was effectively unarmed.
God damn that clown.
For some reason that Doc couldn’t remember, he had an avid hatred for clowns. Or… perhaps the word was fascination. There was something that compelled him to want to hate clowns. He vaguely remembered it being his destiny to hate clowns, or a… dream. Especially psycho clowns. Something about playing cards, too.
Whatever. Clowns sucked, and this one stole Doc’s gun.
”What are we going to do with him?” Riddick asked Patrick, almost surprised with himself.
Patrick scratched his itchy chin. “I don’t know. We can’t just let him out like this. He’s a danger to himself.”
“Well, he ain’t staying here,” Riddick replied, “I can keep him on the move. Keep an eye on him. You should get out there ”
Patrick looked at him. “And I can trust you?”
Riddick stared back at Patrick, his eyes aglow with white fury.
Yeah, honestly, Doc was too scared to really argue with that Riddick guy.
WAIT, STEALTH
Dr. McNinja snuck behind a tree. Ugh, this damn collar kept him from hiding too well. Stupid anti-ninjutsu technology. There was a guy in the distance. He seemed young - not Slurt young, but still younger than should be allowed in a death competition. He had a pretty big pompadour, which was remarkably well-maintained for someone who’d spent three days in a wilderness full of murderers. And behind him was a… strange pink and cyan man floating behind him.
“Ugh, ghosts.” Doc closed his eyes and started humming. “When there’s something strange… in your neighborhood…”
The pink man’s eyes shot in Doc’s direction. The boy himself slowly turned his head around, his droopy eyes watching lazily. Everything about him was casual, but something about the way he posed was… menacing.
Doc waved with his glowing hand. “Hi. You gonna try and kill me?”
The boy looked Doc up and down. “Nah. You?”
Dr. McNinja sighed in relief and flapped his hands, letting the golden energy dissipate. “Nah.”
The boy seemed to relax as well, and the ghost behind him dissipated. Doc watched the spectral energy disappear. This… wasn’t quite a ghost.
Doc gestured at the boy. “You seem to be mildly haunted.”
“Oh, that’s Crazy Diamond.” The boy waved his hands reassuringly. “It’s my Stand. It’s kinda like-”
“Ugh, another Stand?” Dr. McNinja rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You seem nicer than the last Stand user I met.”
“Wait, you know another Stand user?”
“It’s… a really long story.”
“Ugh, that’s just great.” The teenager looked him up and down again. Apparently content with what he saw, he grinned widely. “I’m Josuke, by the way. Josuke Higashikata.”
Doc nodded. “Dr. McNinja.”
“Do you have a first name, or…?”
Doc shook his head, daring to walk a little closer. “Nah. Just Dr. McNinja.”
Josuke nodded slowly. “Cool. A doctor.”
Doc and Josuke looked at each other for a while.
“Wanna move together?” Doc offered, “There’s some crazy people out there still. Would be neat to have a Stand user watch my back.”
Josuke thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
“I suppose that seems good. My last partner got a little… sick.”
Doc squinted. “Unmaking?”
Josuke shrugged. Dr. McNinja sighed and shook his head.
“I know how you feel. I had to shoot my last partner in the face.”
Josuke recoiled at that, his face contorted into nervousness. Doc shook his head.
“At her behest, mind you. And don’t worry. I don’t even have the gun on me. Some psycho clown stole it from me.”
Josuke swallowed hard and chuckled nervously. “Sorry for doubting you.”
Doc shrugged. “Anyway, let’s get going. Don’t wanna stay in the same place too long.”
Josuke nodded and the pair of them started making their way across the field. Dr. McNinja scanned Josuke one more time before smiling.
As the purplish afterimage of Riddick’s retrieval began to fade from his eyes, Slurt looked down at the sharpened hunk of hardened plastic in his hand. An almost chunky reddish-black ichor stained its black surface, a souvenir from its recent visit to UnFennec’s insides. He tried to imagine what it would be like to use it himself, but even in his wildest dreams he could never see himself measuring up to the bald man who had gifted it to him.
Riddick… the bounty-hunter had done his best to protect him. Just like Christine. And Jester. And so many others. Slurt didn’t really have a good reason for why he had used his ticket away from this murderous land on him. After all the work everyone had put into keeping him alive, it almost felt selfish that he hadn’t used it himself. But… as he had seen Riddick’s broken frame, and seen the pool forming below him, Slurt had taken the selfish choice.
Selfish because it spared him the pain of losing someone else. Selfish because he could still die out here, in spite of what everyone had done to keep him alive. And selfish because… he had a goal. He remembered how Caustic had beaten him. More than that, he remembered how he had beaten Christine. And how helpless he was to stop it. In the dim light of the stars, he lifted the Shiv-Spork and stared at it for a moment. It was nearly invisible in the pitch of midnight, but he had already memorized how it looked, and felt.
Closing his eyes, Slurt sat down in the dark and retraced what he had seen just moments before. The way Riddick had moved. How he had softened his steps in order to get close enough to his prey before they noticed him. The quick and decisive strikes. The measured way he only exerted himself as much as he had to, and wasted no movement. His swiveling head and eyes, always alert to changes in the battlefield.
Opening his eyes again, and rising to his feet, a surge of determination strengthened Slurt’s heart. His grief, and pain, and fear… they were shoved aside and pushed down into a small ball, a burden to be dealt with at a later time. For now? Now, there was something Slurt wanted more than food, or life, or even love. He wanted to prove to himself, and to those who had given him nothing but love, help, and laughter, that he could live through this.
Slurt knew he could never measure up to his most-recent protector. But… Riddick had believed in him, and maybe, if he tried… maybe he could live up to those expectations. So, with slow but measured movements, and with the darkness around him as a veil, he tried to replicate what he had seen from the man. Of course, Slurt was no killer himself, and he faltered, and failed, as he went through the motions he had seen. Long into the night he practiced, and as the sky brightened towards the dawn, a small, if weak smile played upon his lips and he imagined Riddick… and Christine, and even Jester looking down on him with approval.
Ah ended up being the one takin’ lead of where we were goin’ just by virtue of being the furthest from dying. We kept the metal sledge, and Chara took turns walkin’ and ridin’ when she was too close to passing out to keep up. Fer his part, Trevor was staggerin’ along too, but he was a tough cookie, and was able to keep pace wit’ me. The guy was a quiet one, though ah probably couldn’t blame him fer that right now. Every breath he took was a ragged an’ sticky sounding one.
Ah’d absorbed memories from both these two, knew ‘em a bit better then ah was expectin’ to know the competition when ah signed up for this thing. Chock another one onto the list o’ things ah’d been too stupid ta consider. Mah blood boiled, demandin’ an answer, a reckonin’ for the horrors done in this place. Jason was dead though, he was dead an’ gone, but tha’ vengeance wasn’t enough! My gaze drifted to Shinku. The tattooed assassin felt this drive all the time? How did he keep so much control? It was all ah could do to keep from screamin’ right now.
Chara tapped my hand from her seat on the metal sled, then held up a note.
We need a plan.
“Simple.” Ah gruffed, adjusting my grip on the rope we’d lashed to the sheet metal, “We get the two o’ you to the bunker while yer still breathin’.”
Ah had been aiming that way since leaving the lake, it was a goal, something ah could do. Except…
Chara was scribblin’ with that damn marker again. Ah scowled as she handed me the new note.
No good. Bunker’s gone.
Ah didn’t say anything, just turned away and started pullin’ the sled again. This time it was Shinku bringin’ it up. He stopped in place, giving a wet cough.
“No safety there anymore.” He wheezed.
Ah threw down the rope and turned on the both of them, mah teeth grinding.
“Then what?” Ah snarled, “Where do ah take the two o’ you to keep you both from kickin’ the bucket? Huh?”
There was a moment of silence in the evening light, and of all three o’ us, ah was the only one mad when the two o’ them were on death’s door. Chara closed her eyes, exhaling somewhat before she started to write again. Ah swallowed my anger. These two weren’t the ones that ah could blame for this.
Ah put a hand to my head, wincing slightly at the splittin’ headache that was rearin’ up angrily all of a sudden. Who could ah blame? One eye strayed to the pair. Gal’Skap preserve ‘em both, they were still tryin’ to keep fightin’ when they could barely cross ground? If they’d planned for coming to this place it’d be better just to spare them the pain an’ finish this mess. That wasn’t fair though, they hadn’t been looking for this when they agreed to participate. It wasn’t innocence, but it wasn’t really guilt either… It’d be madness to try an’ protect ‘em out here. Ah should try, then right? Get vengeance fer all the people on this island what’d been killed an’ didn’t deserve it? But that was exactly what you get for comin’ out here. Ah knew what ah was gettin’ into when ah signed up for this thing. So did they. No they didn’t. Aster hadn’t. Gal’Skap would want me to save ‘em. But did ah care what some doo-hicky god cared, that wasn’t how you kept alive when walls were closin’ in on you. You looked out for yourself. But who was that, again?
Ah sunk down, tryin’ to focus, tryin’ to make sense o’ what ah was tryin’ to do. Get those two to the bunker! No good, the bunker wasn’t safe no more! Keep ‘em safe! How?
Shinku gave a wet cough. “Hey!” He entoned with a firmer urgency then ah’d have expected for someone lackin’ a lung. Ah glanced up. He was weak, he was strong, he was broken, he was enduring. Ah realized ah had both hands pressing on the sides of my head. Ah lowered them slowly, watching the pair of them warily. He directed my attention towards the girl on the metal sled.
Chara was watching me with a look that ah couldn’t quite place right now. She was scared, she was resolute, she was dying, she was concerned for me. She had a message written down, but she’d crossed it out and replaced it with another.
This needs to be finished.
Quickly.
Ah didn’t say anything at first, just nodding. None of us was going to last much longer out here.
“So what do we do?” Ah mumbled, trying to take deep breaths and calm my stupid head enough that ah could even form some sort of a plan.
Chara was staring at me again. She wasn’t even writing this time. Ah knew what we had ta do. That was true. Arbiter above if it wasn’t one of the most infuriatin' parts of that girl. She was right so much of the time! My head was still explodin’ with different reactions to that. Ah wanted to cry, wanted to punch her stupid lights out, wanted to help her, wanted to hide from her.
Too much noise, too many thoughts! Ah snarled, drownin’ out all of them. Would that work? Don’t think, just act?
“Fine, you know what? Ah’ll do it. It’s gonna end badly, for all of us. You two aren’t in the shape to handle any more fightin’. Ya both know that, right?”
Shinku nodded.
“All the same.” He coughed, “We’ll do it.”
Chara was silent, all glassy-eyed an’ wobblin’ slightly. She looked like she was jus’ too hurt ta be listenin’, but ah was startin’ to figure out how she worked. She was thinkin’ and didn’t want it to look like she was. Eventually she glanced at the both of us and gave a nod.
Ah grunted. Ah wanted to argue, but my thoughts weren’t organizin’ well enough for that right now. Ah wasn’t gonna be able to save them. Ah wasn’t able to save anyone here. Ah didn’t want to save anyone. Ah wanted to share madness. Ah wanted to survive. Ah wanted to make things hurt for what they’d done. Ah wanted…
No more thinkin’. Just actin’. Chara was right. It had ta be done.
He spat another of those stupid needles out of his mouth. He looked as a lion might, after freshly feeding on a kill. Mouth and chin stained red. The needles had been a worse idea than he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to give Karl the satisfaction.
Instead, he grumpily plucked needle after needle, tossing the little spikes on the ground like breadcrumbs as he went.
Kefka was annoyed, but he was also highly motivated. He had to meet the Bald Man; to make him a general in his divine legion.
Or maybe torture him to death. Or ice cream! His stomach gurgled at the thought, a mixture of hunger and distress from the ingested cactus.
“I want ice cream,” he muttered, then let out a long, loud sigh. He spit out another needle. He shuffled along, suddenly overcome with a deep malaise. Kefka’s shoulders stooped and his expression fell. He let his sword drag along behind him.
He really did want ice cream.
Kefka rolled his eyes and straightened up. “Bald Man first, ice cream second.”
He moved faster now, more purposefully, but not without flourish.
“Bald man first,” he holstered his gun in his sash, and then unleashed a plume of searing fire across the canopy of a happy little tree.
“Ice cream second,” another flaming spear consumed a new portion of hideously vibrant greenery.
He paused to relish in the small fires, and that gave him an idea.
“Tracking them through the woods like some kind of… peasant… hunter,” Kefka plunged his sword in the dirt for a moment, allowing him to commit wholesale arson with both hands. Soon, the heat of the flames was nearly unbearable, the smoke thick and acrid. Completely inhospitable. Kefka beamed.
“Bald man fiiirst~” he deigned not to waste time by skipping. Even he could asphyxiate. Birds fled in huge, panicked flocks. Trees and shrubs shivered with movement, but Kefka could hear only the increasingly hungry roar of the forest fire he’d started. “I’ll burn this whole comet down if that’s what it takes, Bald Man. I- want- ice- cream.”
There was something about Relief, taken away by a sudden surprise, that allowed for all the preparation and mental fortitude to fall away with a casual glance. Luckily, I had time to rebuild myself, across this battle. Resolve that had faded with the promise of life years ago, in a comfortable existence.
I had replaced it since then, planning, building, working, as I accepted the inevitability of the Abyss. Judge, god, demon, they were all the same here - all fuel for Karl’s fire, and it was time for me to be set to the torch, very soon.
The fact that her name never came on the collar had already told me how this would end. Which was fine, in my estimation. I had spent so much time on figuring out how I would end this, after all. Her acidity, her unseen powers over blood, her raw physical strength… She was as dangerous as any monster on the island.
But she had weakpoints i’d been considering. Things she regarded or disregarded. Things she would take for the hell of it, even if it might disadvantage her. She loved pain and wore her apparent invincibility like a shawl - it was something an ambition refuter would allow me to cause massive damage to her, break her smile and leave her splattered across the field.
Enough stabbing, enough pain caused, enough ecstasy would encourage her, increase her fervor, but break down that intellect. And this machete, well, what it lacked in reach, it would add in weight. There was a chance if I just mashed her with it long enough, her face would fail to reform, her body would shiver with the chill of death, Or perhaps I could still wring my hands around her…
No, tactically inefficient. Desire, not practical. She could simply melt my hands off, leaving me to my magic.
My eyes flashed red, as a shiver fell through my frame, alerting Rogue to my stirring. She was not happy to see it as I got up.
“Y’all are gonna need to rest here, darlin’.”
It took a short enough time to write my answer, but the obnoxiousness of putting pencil to paper still grated as I gave her my note.
I have to go. I made a promise. Need to keep Slurt safe.
It… wasn’t a lie. None of it was. Just how I was keeping him safe.
“Darlin’, if it’s that important to ya, We can find ‘em together. What are you…”
Rogue studied my face, and my eyes. Her face tightened.
“Now, don’t you go and get yourself banged up on your own, you can hardly stand! You ain’t looking to save him, you’re looking to kill yerself!” Rogue spat.
It felt rather awful to be read so well from this side of it, even if her other personalities kept her from peering too deeply.
But…
I will die here, that is assured. I can at least make it take some time, cost the enemy resources.
“Damn it, Chara!” Rogue snapped, and I gave a short smile in response, as my shoulders relaxed. “Don’t you just - you can’t just - that’s nah something you just give up on!”
I shook my head, as I kept writing.
I will die. But I come back. And some people here do not. I must make that death meaningful. But I will not give up. I do not do this.
It took me a second before I flashed the next page to her.
I appreciate everything you’ve done up until now. Please, take shinku. Go and take back our way home. Rescue everyone from this hell. You are the only one here with the power to. That is my belief.
Rogue grabbed me by the shoulders so hard it almost made my head spin, as I flashed a smile.
“Ain’t happenin’ without you! Damnit, Chara. Whah…” Rogue’s eyes widened, as she grabbed her. “Wha’ makes ya think ya can jus’ waltz in here, walk in on my life, lean into my business an’...”
Rogue’s voice broke, and I gave a sheepish smile, as I was wrapped in another hug. This one lasted a few minutes, and I was fine indulging in it.
I gave her a soft smile as she finally let go. “...Jus’... please try to stay alive, while ya find the squirt, alright? Ah don’t…”
I flashed a smile, as I handed her a note - one I made sure to conceal from the nearby drones.
“Is this… yoah number?” Rogue asked, as I handed her a second one, nodding towards Shinku, unconscious against a nearby tree.
I gave her a sheepish smile, before writing something else down.
Dying is not so bad for me. I will be okay.
And then, I added something else.
Rogue, you wanted this to prove you are strong?
Rogue’s look turned sour, reading that first line, expecting to be recriminated and yet…
I have a feeling if that was my last words, she might not fight me on it.
You did. You have been through hell, and lost so much. Your powers I do not understand have left you more adrift. But despite everything, you are still you. That innocent glimmer may be gone, but you are Rogue in the end. If I am allowed to, I am glad to call you my friend.
Rogue’s face turned to a smile filled with tears, and I was surprised as she just leaned against me for a moment. “Wastin’ paper… yeah, Chara. Guess we are. You don’t have to head out right away, right, sugah?”
I thought about it, then shook my head. A few minutes rest would be optimal.
-----
Rogue and I splayed out on our backs, as I took these last moments to think about everything. My life before, my life in DA. Rogue, Christine, Slurt, Riddick. It was a tale I may take to my grave, for I may have just traded my SAVE for Rogue’s…
well, hopefully, she does not have to find that out. I thought to myself. At least not immediately.
I waited until she was almost asleep to get up, shambling like a zombie as I l found the tree we had hung much of our things. The nailgun I left here, but the Machete…
Well, it fit the task ahead.
I did not do this as the judge, for Lilith was beyond punishment. Around her, thinking about her, I became the small child who planned to end humanity for their sins once again. The spoiled opealon noble who had been trained to view humans as cattle, and that feeling had caused me to want to shirk away from her even at first meeting.
But it also sharpened me. I wanted to see her. I wanted to show her those bits of madness I had concealed away all those years, only brought out from under lock and key when they were useful. When my role required. Against her, none of those things mattered. It was just an excuse to indulge in violence, violence she wanted to see from me. And yet… I didn’t want to disappoint her. Some part of me knew that was selfish, and yet I wanted to tear into her just as much as she did me, to see her expression, to hurt her, to break her.
For Lilith, I could become the demon named Chara once again. For the rest of the island, I could make sure that tryst ended with both of us finding our graves and fading away hand in hand. And until she laid me low, I would not waste a single breath, movement, or pump of blood on anything but laying Lilith low.
I clapped a hand on my Machete’s hilt, and gave an unbalanced smile beneath my mask.
Face to Face
#17 Nearl & #22 Fennec Shand vs #28 Ketkin Flynn
Ketkin ‘Star Eater’ Flynn spoke to himself as he lurched and shambled through the forest. His mechanized body parts screeched and grated he rhythmically activated and deactivated the light saber.
A dark voice called forth from the shadows. “That’s an interesting weapon you have there.”
Star Eater twisted his head and smiled as Fennec Shand lumbered out from the darkness. The three-armed woman smiled as she was joined by the Fallen Knight, Nearl.
“Are you ready to surrender yourself to the Fallen Arbiter?” Fennec cooed as she lifted the Electro Axe.
“No, bu—huh?” Ketkin glanced down at his belt. “What?” He seemed to be talking to the blood- and oil-stained teddy bear chained to his person. “You’ve always been a fan of the dark side?” The man tilted his head. “Oh, it’s the ‘Darkseid’? I don’t get the difference.” A frown this time. “You’re insane.” A gasp. “Untrue!” Scowling once more. “Fine!” With a swift motion, Ketkin tossed the bear at Nearl, who caught it after it bounced off her chest.
The two unmade monsters glanced down at the bear, and then they looked up to see Ketkin Flynn running away.
“I like warm hugs!” ‘Wilson’ cheerfully declared before he exploded with the fury of a small warhead.
#17 Nearl DEAD
Ketkin Flynn used ‘Teddy Bear Bomb’
Fennec Shand has burns and shrapnel wounds across her entire body and lost parts of her limbs (she has one ‘Insane’ Injury for the purposes of damage tracking)
Upon revival, Nearl will be normal (just stating that for clarity purposes)
Finally, someone knows what's up with my hair's awesomeness.
The two could've remained in the stranger status, but they started to get along quickly. On Dr. Mcninja's compliment on his iconic hairstyle, Josuke appreciates his words and shows him gratitude immediately. They walked while discussing specific topics to gain more knowledge of their identities, such as things they enjoy or hate. In the middle of their conversation, the pompadour stand user goes way off-topic on Just trying to understand the reality that this guy works two professions at once, effectively. "Wait, so you're telling me that you're a doctor, like a hospital or surgical doctor that heals, but you're also a ninja at the same time. My mind is blown figuratively just how insanely tight and rad background you have."
"You bet, but he also lives in a world where the unmade has fully taken over and enslaved everyone. There is only one man who can stop them. Insert badass actor's name here, playing as Dr. McNinja!" The masked doctor speaks out in an epic trailer voiceover to add an incredible likeness to his charismatic nature.
Josuke chuckles a little at how over the top Dr. McNinja is but hisses in pain from the cauterized wound he received from his previous fight. Receiving a lot of agonies, they stop in their tracks and wait for a couple of minutes so that Josuke can check his wound. Already, he can see where the lightsaber stabbed before, doing a number on his midsection and not only that but on his excellent clothing line. The intense light blade has ruined his favorite buttoned purple Jacket he's been wearing. The sight of it all makes him frown, but something pops up in his mind, an answer standing directly in front of him.
"Hey doc, since I know your background is into healing and all. Do you mind checking my recent wound out? Maybe you can make me feel better?" Josuke questions Dr. McNinja, but the masked lab coat man has an answer that wouldn't solve the stand user's problem.
"Unfortunately, I do not have anything I can cause the heals, but I do have a lot of one-liners that can probably make you feel better." The doctor offers, attempting to lighten the mood between them. "You know what they say. Laughter can be the best medicine!"
"Well, I guess a little optimism would help." Josuke accepts Dr. McNinja's offer to see how many zany liners the interesting character offers in this gruesome competition.
"Looks like you're going to need a checkup!"
"Get ready for a diagnose of kickass!"
"Hail to the doctor, baby!"
"Your results have returned, and I'm afraid you have a case of being owned!"
"Paging, Dr. whoop-ass!"
Dr. McNinja keeps going on with awesome one-liners that Josuke enjoys hearing and finds his lines cool. While listening, he made his coat into a bandage to wrap around his torso to at least cover the wound. He changes into a simple yellow tank top from his survival bag that he stored some tops inside and drinks the water that's currently remaining. Sorrow does stay in his mindset for his poor previous, Nearl but Josuke tries to look on the bright side with a newly made friend today. Hell, he's made a friend with a doctor that's a ninja!
The two have something in common, kicking ass while healing simultaneously.
I had left it to Christine, Jester, Josuke,and the rest, but they couldn’t have handled her. All of them were competent fighters, I knew, and they were ready to kill for the child, but all of them had a complicated relationship there, as well. Christine was busy balancing her new, protective feelings with her killer instincts, Jester was a wonderful but still naive person.
The pain in my jaw lanced up, but I felt it less and less as I came closer to our final location. Our final battle. I knew she would find me, the way I was now. There was no fear of anyone getting in the way.
They had not learned to balance both the way I had - not even Riddick, who could not fully integrate that murderous impulse with his own appreciation for children.
To make friends, my mother used to say, you needed to be a friend.
To murder a monster…
My eyes glowed scarlet as I unclasped the machete, hearing the acid woman walk evenly forward.
Mercy had left my vocabulary as my senses tightened, focusing on hate, rage, anticipation. Where someone less controlled found chaos, I turned them to focus, keeping myself determined and ready.
Lilith turned the corner with a rather annoying laugh, seeing her. "...Was wondering if you'd make it. Your scent is just too irresistible. Look at you, a lamb begging for slaughter. Hmm... not much for talking? Ah well. I'll hear your screams soon enough."
Her body had marks of damage, things accumulated from Dante’s abyss. I noticed each and every one of them, and accounted for them as I slowly lifted the machete.
"So, how does it feel? In the end, you couldn't save your friends. Succumbed to madness yet? Fuhuhuh... Don't worry. Your body speaks for itself," Lilith cooed, and I stared her straight in the eyes as we gazed into each other's soul… and her expression turned from stark sadism to wonder.
“Ehehe…” I laughed, as I grasped the machete tightly, pointing it straight at her. She hadn’t figured me out completely. I wasn’t here out of hopelessness, nor had I been driven insane. I knew, rationally, exactly what I wanted.
I was here because I wanted her blood, and I finally had what I wanted in plain sight.
“...Hahhh~” I rasped, stepping forward, and the surprise on Lilith’s face turned to joy.
“You really are just a perfect pet, aren’t you~?”
The response I gave came with the stringing of Scarlet knives as I forced Lilith back on the Defensive, covering her in bloody wounds as I snapped my fingers.
Hundreds of knives, all purpose-made for murder. All blanketing the area in death.
Black scabs formed across her body, as I cut her apart tenderly but it just made her laugh. I was not expecting to make a masochist do much else, but it didn’t stop me from enjoying the new holes i made across her naked form, either.
Her next move was expected as she quickly grew tired of dodging or slapping away magic blade after magic blade, and I was ready as her body started to fall apart, changing from solid to an acidic liquid.. I remembered the tapes from Nausicaa enough to know it was a favored way for her to get out of tight situations, and as she oozed closer with surprising speed, I was ready.
Fire magic sprang from my feet with a simple step forward coating the ground in fire and, warding her from oozing closer. I let the flames torch into Lilith’s approaching body to prevent her easy entrance into mine, as she lurched back at the last second
“Mmmm…” I tsk’ed, as I lifted the machete, ready for Lilith to reform, and struck hard for the shoulder. The weight of the Machete followed through well enough, and a shiver of excitement followed as I felt the satisfying squelch of the steel smashing into Lilith’s form.
The grin on my face might have been concealed from the cameras, but as usual, even as the steel bit into her flesh, I was not allowed to hide anything from her.
Face to Face
#25 Kefka vs #15 Josuke & #26 Dr. McNinja
The pair had quickly taken to one another. After both had lost companions over the last three days, the partnership had helped them to assuage some of the pain at their losses.
That is, of course, until Kefka stumbled upon them in the wee hours of the morning.
Josuke was in the middle of a sentence when the sword erupted out through his stomach. The stand user, who had been sharing a soft laugh with McNinja, looked downward at the blood-soaked tip of the blade. The expression on his face seemed to be confusion more than anything else. From behind him, he heard the laughter of a certifiable insane maniac.
“This one isn’t bald,” Kefka cackled. “But bald would be preferred to such stupid hair.”
The teen winced in a blended display of pain before stepping forward and collapsing away from the blade.
“Clown,” McNinja seethed as he tackled Kefka to the ground.
“Ninja!” Kefka cooed as the two exchanged punches whilst rolling along the forest floor. After a shortly tussle, the psycho wound up on top and glared down into the eyes of his foe. “Where is the Bald Man? Where has he hid the Screamsicle?”
“Nowhere you’ll find them, you idiot,” McNinja spat back before throwing Kefka off of him and scrambling to his feet. As the clown lurched up to his feet, the Good Doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a jar. In an instant, he had a fistful of dirt in his twitching palm, and without a moment’s hesitation, he jammed it into his mouth.
“Soil?” Kefka muttered as he drew Caster and fired. The magical bullet crashed into McNinja’s chest and richoted off with an almost melodic ping before exploding into a blossom of fire in the wilderness behind the pair. “…magic soil? Why does Karl give the ninja magic soil?”
What bullshit!
Kefka holstered the gun and drew the sword. “We’ll do it the traditional way,” he grumbled as he charged. Einlanzer swung through the moonlight night and crashed against McNinja’s neck, but there was no arterial splash and image of a ninja head spiraling through the air.
Instead, the blade just seemed to rub against the indestructible surface of the ninja’s neck.
“This isn’t fair,” Kefka growled.
“What you did to Jester wasn’t fair,” McNinja muttered.
“Who?” Kefka asked.
A voice from the side drew both individual’s attention. “Here, Ninja!” Josuke tossed something to his new companion.
“This’ll do,” McNinja muttered as he turned the Bob-omb Launcher to Kefka. “See you in Hell.”
“Try me,” Kefka sneered as the makeshift grenade exploded into his chest and sent him careening backwards.
“That was… awesome!” Josuke wheezed as he hobbled his way over to McNinja on his hands and knees. “Should we go after him?”
“You need some help,” McNinja replied as he knelt down next to the teenager and helped him to lie down on his back. “That crazy clown’s not getting back up from that.”
Unfortunately for McNinja, a medical degree didn’t make him a soothsayer.
Charred beyond comprehension, a still sneering Kefka dragged himself into the woods.
Dr McNInja used 1 application of Focus (Relic – Jar of Dirt)
Kefka is horribly burned; like, flesh off, clothes fused to his blackened flesh horrible (Insane Injury)
Josuke was stabbed through the stomach (Major Injury) and had his hair insulted (Mortal Injury; Will die in 12 IC hours unless treated)*
In an effort to capture every heartbeat of the Abyss, Karl Jak maintained an army of cameras, and an army of Syntechies to monitor them in pursuit of this goal. Due to the dwindling nature of the game's players, many of these cameras often found themselves staring at empty, open space as the competition progressed. In one such stretch of uninhabited land, a copse of trees minded their own arborial business in the gray morning. The employee in charge of camera 74u observed them with little interest - it was hard to get excited about your job when your coworkers are watching flashy death battles and you get to watch a bunch of leaves shake angrily in the wind.
Then, everything on screen caught on fire.
Trunks went flying as root and earth alike was upheaved. Smoking shards of charred treebone spiral off and flutter through the air, mimicking the flurry of rockets that just created them. Through the burning thicket and bramble walked a real and true devil, Nico Cinder adorned in slick black armor that seemed to shift and catch light with the slow consistency of thick, lazy water. A dark helm with a mouth of fangs and crown of angular horns protected the demonic rockstar from the dying breath of the plant life around him. Nico stopped walking and observed, the bloody glint of his ruby eyes flickering behind his helmet like the light in a gas lamp. If you were to turn on your Nico-Vision™, you would see the burning woods as if wearing a fancy motorcycle helmet.
He hadn't been sure if anyone had been hiding here before, but they definitely weren't now. Something ambivalent rose up in him at this particular thought, and Nico felt something inside him move. Not like, "help a baby alien just came out of my chest" move, more like, "the Nine-Tailed Fox seal is loosening" move. The Goop was making its presence, and by extension its will, very known to its host. Two blank splotches of white paint and a handful of pointy teeth somewhat resembling a grin floated into his field of view.
"Don't burn...the meat..." gurgled the teeth.
The punk sneered, trying to resist the urge to drool at the thought of overcooked meat. Nico liked a lot of his food burnt. Cwispy. That's not why he set a torch to these woods though. Nico started a wildfire because the trees looked like they were fun to blow up, and he was right, they definitely were that. And he definitely loved a good campfire. There was a brief moment where the musician considered making a joke about burning trees, but didn't think his new friend, Sam, would understand the nuances, so he kept his little funny to himself and kept walking, trying to put his mind elsewhere. There were some feelings he just couldn't seem to shake. Nico supposed some things never change.
When Nico first released Sam the Symbiote he was immediately assaulted with an intense thirst, the likes of which he could not recall feeling in all his time slumming it through these worlds. The only things that could possibly have come close to the absolute vacuum of this sensation that Sam poured over its host likely would've predated The Deal for Nico's Eternal Soul, those memories nothing more to him now than the blurry imprint of an emotion, or wish. Desires. It put the damned boy on edge, how simple and clean it was to attune and subject himself to this being of immense power that was not his own in exchange for use of his body. It was almost as if he had done something like this before.
Someone's stomach growled. Nico frowned.
The name Sam was arbitrary. Nico picked it on a whim. This thing had a voice though, so it was only fair that it had a name, malicious or not. Nico offered it one, at some point, and it did not protest. Felt better than calling it goop. The degenerate rockstar would almost consider Sam a pet, if it wasn't so clearly capable of what it was so clearly capable of. This, and the intrusive, controlling nature Sam was prone to lodged a little seed of resentment in Nico's chest. It felt real, real good having the creature with him, though. An indescribable, synchronous kind of good. That bad, bad kind of good you get from a nasty guitar riff, or connecting your fist with someone's jaw. He felt in control of his body, mostly, but he could feel Sam making split second decisions too, whims of its own. They usually concerned filling Sam's belly, and Sam had no qualms about using its host to do that. Just as well, what with Nico using Sam to survive. A truly symbiotic relationship. Nico sighed, altogether exhausted from all this thinking. He needed to blow something or someone else up. And possibly locate some munchies.
Sam, Nico thought aloud.
"Yyyes, Nico?" came the reply. Sam's eyes and mouth stared at the boy, but did not move in time with the disembodied voice in his head. Creepy. Nico conceded to this, chalking it up to a bad dub.
Do you like your name? Nico asked, nonchalantly.
"I have had many others, before," Sam said, indifferently. "And more will likely follow."
Well yeah, but do you like Sam?
Silence, for a moment.
"Sam is go-od," Sam growled slowly, with intent. With intent to what, Nico didn't know. But he damn sure felt it.
“We’re nearly there, everyone,” Karl muttered as he frowned at the state of things.
“Let’s take a moment to celebrate those contestants who are no longer in the Abyss:
“#10 Riddick
#16 Kolith
#17 Nearl”
“Now, as we move closer to what we hope and pray will likely just be the sweet release of death for most of you, I want you to know that you should avoid the following squares after noon today:
“R4
R5
R6.”
A voice from the back of the control room. “Do you still plan to go ahead with that information, Mr. Jak?”
Karl shrugged his shoulders as he leaned onto the communicator. “While you’ve been murdering yourselves, we’ve managed to triangulate the location of a sinkhole in the area that connects to a tunnel network. Now, we can’t be certain, but my experts and I believe this is an underground corridor that may connect to an unmade fortress somewhere in this region of Cevanti. The marines in the area are headed for that location, with the exception of their Sergeant, because I didn’t pay her to not do her babysitting job. Now… this would almost certainly be a one-way trip, and I don’t mean that because you won’t find your way back. I mean that because it’s likely a suicide mission, but if you can reach the destination, I can send some backup. Of course, this also means you are trading being able to become Grand Champion to feasibly make the Crossroads a safer place, but to each their own."
“The sinkhole is located at P5.”
Karl shuffled in his chair as he gestured for a fresh glass of wine. “Aside from that, I wish all of you remaining contestants the best of luck!”
***
This phase will end tomorrow, 6-25, at 9 AM CST
There is a secret boss at P5. ‘Triggering’ this encounter will remove you from the map and prevent you from ‘winning’ the game. Your character dying is a 99% chance. I will provide no other details on this matter until/if the event is triggered. You have up until the quest items are returned to the bunker to opt into this secret encounter (returning the items will trigger the End Game).
