Death Game -- The Barracks

[The Man in Red]

Lurking on a level which seems to be below all of the others, is the Barracks. The final staging ground, and section for any last-minute preparations for the finalized list of contestants who have signed up and been fully cleared and approved to take part in the event. An announcement will be made over the intercom systems when this level has been opened, and a helpful employee will always be only a raised voice away from arriving to escort you there should you need it.

There is a common area for the contestants to simply hang out and wile away the remaining time, talk among each other, or plan the inevitable order of murder to be had once on the island. Violence of any kind is strictly not allowed, even here; that has to be saved for the cameras, after all.

Each contestant has their own private room, which for security's sake can only be opened by the one assigned to it. These rooms are labeled by number, which you can helpfully figure out who is which by simply checking your profile. Within this room you will find a bed for resting, a radio and basic television, a secured footlocker which holds your supplies for the upcoming game, as well as a sturdy dresser and storage trunk to keep any or all of your valuables and/or banned equipment for safekeeping during the game.

All of the various NPC contestants will be available here for the brief duration in the barracks. Some may be less...pleasant than others to deal with, so some measure of caution is, as always, advise.

The Barracks are, as of this post going up, officially open and accessible. As of 12:00 AM EST on 11/8/2020, a secondary announcement requiring all contestants to make their way to the barracks will be made; until then, you are welcome to carry on as you like among the rest of the facility.

 

[Omelette Robotnik]

Bing boong!

"Attention all participants," the announcement began, a soothing feminine voice permeating the air from several speakers placed in the upper corners of the Entry Hall.

"The Barracks are now open. Please begin making your way to your provided room. Again, The Barracks are now open, please begin making your way there. Thank you."

The Prisoner tilted its green-flamed head for a moment, before shrugging and starting to walk. Elevators lined the Hall, each with a neon placard above, stating the destination. At the very end, it found the one labeled "Barracks".

Moments later, the undead exited the elevator, taking in its surroundings with a narrowed eye. It was a large space, the walls lined with small doors, each of which had a small nameplate beside it. It took a bit, but The Prisoner finally spotted its own name, or its moniker at least, but before it could make its way over, a lithe, purple-haired man strode purposefully towards it.

"Ah! Welcome, friend! So good to see some new faces about. The company here was beginning to get rather… dull," Mid-Boss said with a smile.

"You may call me, Mid-Boss, and what might I call you, good sir?"

Without a mouth, or even a larynx, to speak of (or with), The Prisoner did the next best thing that it could: it pointed at the door with its name on it.

"Hmm? Oh. The Prisoner, eh? Another man of few words, I see. I'm afraid you'll be the third such to have arrived thus far," Mid-Boss said with a sigh, gesturing towards the back wall.

Weapon held at the low-ready, and finger on the trigger, a man reclined against said wall, his features completely hidden behind a full set of tactical wargear. Another gesture from the purple-haired fellow directed The Prisoner's gaze to another man cloaked head to toe in black, though this one appeared to be meditating. And floating.

"No matter. You still appear to be far better company than the others. Perhaps you'd allow me the pleasure of showing you around?"

With an emphatic nod, and thumbs-up, as confirmation, Mid-Boss turned smartly on his heel and led the way. Doors passed to their right as they began a circuit of the Barracks, and a deep, throbbed beat began to become audible to the undead.

"I don't know what sort of beast they have behind that door," Mid-Boss said as they passed the source of the sound: a door labeled 'King'. "But I'd as soon avoid whatever it is for as long as possible. The energy coming from the doorway is nearly enough to make a demon's hearts stop!"

Continuing on, the duo happened a heavily-built, and seemingly robotic, giant of a man. The Replied grinned viciously at them both, from his seat upon the cot, but whatever warmth his smile might have held never reached those mad eyes.

Mid-Boss hurried them along with a "That's Sigma. I had thought that he would make a good conversational partner, but the machine is single-mindedly fixated on some far-fetched dream of conquering The Crossroads. Couldn't even get a word in edge-wise."

"Besides…" the demon spoke more softly, leaning closer to his companion, "I don't think he much cares for anyone who isn't a machine. He and Vader nearly got into a scrap earlier over some argument the 'Force' or some such. I'd steer clear of them both, if I were you."

The Prisoner nodded solemnly, before pointing at the floating man, and raising its shoulder in a questioning manner.

"Yes. That's him. Some sort of telekinetic, from the looks. Dangerous sorts, they are. Behind him is someone they called Agent HUNK. As far as I can tell, he's the most normal one out of us all. Just a human with some skill with firearms. If I had to pick someone to run into on that island, he would be my choice."

"Oh, and by the way, do try to keep an eye on the ceiling. Some fellow named Cell has made it quite clear that he would like to eat us 'fleshy types', and last I saw of the beast, he was scurrying up that way, likely to wait in ambush."

That same grin returning to his lips, Mid-Boss bowed to the Prisoner and said, "And that concludes the tour, my good sir. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to wait by the entrance for someone who might be a bit more… talkative. No offence."

And with that, The Prisoner, nervously searching the ceiling for a deadly predator, was left alone. With much haste, it hurried over to its room, opened the door, and slammed it behind him. If it could breathe, one would imagine that it would be quite ragged right now.

"Hi there," a voice said from behind The Prisoner setting its flame to a vibrant yellow. It wheeled about, stumbling back into the door in its panic, and spotted the intruder. Tall, insectoid, and green, Cell loomed over his prey.

"Calm down," he said in a serpentine voice, placing a three-fingered hand on the undead shoulder. "I like my meat a little more… rare."

A sinister chuckle escape Cell's beak as he pushed The Prisoner away from the door.

"Word of warning, though… that guy out there might talk like he's your friend, but that might just make him the most dangerous one of us all."

And with that, the beast swept open the door and left a, incredibly intimidated, Prisoner behind. It was a good thing this body had already vacated its bowels before it had found it, or The Prisoner might have to call maintenance.

 

[Ganondorf]

Gengar hovered into the barracks after hearing the announcement over the speakers. A large room greeted him, dotted with chairs and sofas. The right side wall was lined with doors, each with a rectangular placard above the frame. A few contestants had already entered the barracks before Gengar, mulling about quietly, choosing not to interact with each other.

The ghost Pokemon scanned the room. He hadn’t done much this pre-show, or whatever it was that they were calling it. Maybe he could pass the time by talking to one of these weirdos. In fact, there was a chance he could learn some strengths and weaknesses of his opponents before they were dropped onto the island. That way he could methodically plan his kills, letting the strong ones battle it out among themselves while Gengar picked off the weak and sickly ones.

All of those present looked tough in some respect; some wore plated armour, some were bulging with muscles, while another looked like a giant Scyther if it had mutated horribly. Though there was one that grabbed his attention. A man stood in the room, his head replaced with a giant eyeball, a brilliant purple flame enveloping it. Gengar frowned at the sight. Shouldn’t that man be in excruciating pain? Sure, he had no face or mouth to express it, but surely he would be running around in a frenzy, desperate for a bucket of water? Come to think of it, whenever was fire purple?

Gengar slapped his forehead. Where indeed! He opened hi s stubby fingers and three purple flames appeared in a loose circle, spinning above his palm. Ghostly flames! That thing was some form of apparition. Much more interesting than the rest of the fools in this room. Clenching his fist, Gengar snuffed out the fires and hovered towards the creature.

“Hello,” Gengar said with a wave, his characteristic grin painted on his face.

The eyeball focused on him. He returned the gesture.

“You’re some sort of spirit? Undead?” Gengar asked. He thumbed his chest. “Me too. I’m Gengar. What’s your name?”

The eyeball man pointed at a nearby door. Gengar looked at the door’s placard.

“The Prisoner?” Gengar said. “Odd name. I don’t see any chains or shackles. Or a jail cell. Not a very fitting description. How did you get such a mismatched title?”

The Prisoner looked at Gengar for a moment blankly, until it hit him that he had no mouth to respond with.

“Oh. Guess you can only answer yes or no questions, huh?” Gengar said. “Other than pointing at things. Or charades! That would be fun.”

The Prisoner didn’t appear to agree with him.

“Well at the least, you need a different name,” Gengar said, floating up to be level with the flaming eye. “How about... One-Eye! Hmm, not very pithy. Though much more descriptive than ‘The Prisoner.’ Hothead? Well you don’t technically have a head. Burning Gaze? Eye-for-a-Head? Damn, this is hard! You’d think a look like that would lend itself to an easy nickname!”

The Prisoner studied Gengar as if not sure what to make of the purple ghost-type.

“Ah well, One-Eye will do for now. Until I think of a name I like better. So... know any of these guys and their weaknesses? Who should I kill first?”

His mute acquaintance shrugged.

Maybe I shouldn’t have picked the guy with no mouth to find out intel from...