DGS3 -- Day 2, Phase 2

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The Man in Red

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Day 2, Phase 2
Afternoon Phase: 1200 to 1800​

". . . . . ."

As the phase change announcement crackled to life, it let out only a dull hissing of static and overall silence. None of the usual pseudo-cheerful banter the Man in Red was normally prone to prattle on about. Instead, after almost a full minute, a clearly synthesized and artificial voice spoke up instead.

"APPROPRIATE GREETINGS, REMAINING CONTESTANTS. YOUR NUMBER WAS REDUCED:

#014 -- Superman

GOOD LUCK TO THE REST OF YOU. DEAD ZONES FOR THE NEXT PHASE:

All spaces remaining in Rows A, B and J
All spaces remaining un Column 2 and 13
B 11
B 12
C 8
C 9
C 10
C 11
C 12
D 10
D 12

SPECIAL ITEM DROP. VERY SOON. I 4. COLLAR PING FOR TRANSPORT. YOU WILL LIKE THIS ONE."

The voice lapsed into silence, once more serenading the island with the crackle and hum of static, before a sound like electronic noise feedback grew into an earsplitting whine. A harsh sound, like something electrical popping or a blown fuse sounded, and the announcement system went dead with a loud shrieking pop.


NPC Movement Updates
Mister Satan is STILL fine! He's recovering excellently, and will be no hindrance to his friends!
Blaidd drags himself along through the woods, dragging a makeshift weapon he's managed to scavenge with him.
Kiryu waxes philosophical about the proper way to beat someone with a motorcycle without killing them. Majima offers his friends a nice watermelon in this trying time.


Bulletins and Updates
  • Easter Egg -- Another one, yes! A the start of phase Day 2 Phase 4, at space I 4. As before, you don't have to physically go there to take part, just let me know you want to participate.
  • Weather -- The rain has let up entirely by now. It is still heavily overcast, and what sun does get through is pale and watery, bringing little warmth to the continuing chill in the air. Of note, any trace of wind or breeze has stopped entirely. A dull haze of purple can be seen in the air wherever the mist and fog remains thick in the air.
  • Unmaking -- Corruption as mentioned in the previous phase will continue to spread unchecked, accelerating the general decomposition of the island at large.
  • Adrenaline Note -- If you begin this phase on a space that will soon be unmade/become a dead zone, or you have pre-loaded moves that took you into one, you gain +1 extra move to try and get yourself to safety.
 
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The Man in Red

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FACE-OFF
#006 Trevor O'Skully & #010 Princess Flak, #018 Blaidd the Half-Wolf​

".....Flak. Wait a moment." Shinku spoke up abruptly, lifting an arm. "Do you...feel that?"

"Feel what?" the transformed general just looked around at random, as if trying to spot out what exactly she was supposed to be feeling. "Sure you don't mean 'hear' something? You feelin' alright, bud?"

"I think...we're being followed." Shinku's hand came to rest on the hilt of his newly-acquired sword, as he peered about their surroundings intently. They were out in the open, a sandy and dusty canyon near the mountains. Nowhere to really hide for anyone trying to follow them. So why did it feel like they were being watched? There wasn't anywhere here that...

The light clattering sound of dislodged stone suddenly made both of the traveling duo look around, as it dawned on them suddenly: look up.

And there, on the edge of the wooded cliffside above, they saw the bestial, snarling face of Blaidd the Half-Wolf staring back down at them, poised as if to pounce on them at any moment.

Tension reigned for a moment, before Flak ponderously lifted an arm, pointing up at the wolf-man above. "Hey! It's that crazy wolf-dude from before!" she hollered, a broad grin splitting her face. 'Sup, dude? You here for a rematch?!"

Blaidd's head tilted to one side, as he blinked several times. "Alright...not quite the reaction I expected, to be honest," he muttered. Then he took a few quick sniffs of the air. "....ah. Right, I remember you now. From the mountaintop..." And he shuffled up to stand. "Sorry, mate; not interested in another fight with you, quite yet. Not until I'm better off and armed again."

Flak visibly deflated a little, looking like the wind went out of her sails. "Aw, man..." Behind her eyes, the gears were turning -- slowly, haltingly, but steadily. And just as Blaidd turned to leave, she had an idea. "Yo, hold up! Wolf-dude!" She raised her arm again, clenched her fist boldly. "I got somethin' to tell ya! Like, a plan! A real good one!"

Shinku shot a confused glance at his ally. "Flak, what are you--" But he was silenced by a waved hand and a sharp 'shhshhshh!', leaving him to frown in obvious disgruntlement.

The wolven shadow didn't turn back around, but did pause, cocking his head to one side as if listening.

"You ain't got a real weapon right now, right?" Flak started off. "So you ain't got much of a chance in this game less you can get your hands on one. And we got plenty of weapons, and are definitely gonna get more!" The princess's face split into a wide, fang-bearing grin, as she slapped a hand to her chest. "So! Come down here, join up with us! Help us get more fancy loot, and we'll get you a good weapon. Then when we're all in a better spot, we'll throw down again!"

Blaidd's ears visibly twitched, as he tilted his head back to look up at the sky overhead. "Interesting offer, I'll give you that. But what guarantee do I have that you'll actually follow through with it, and not just say whatever you can to make me let my guard down?"

"Cause I'm too stupid to think of somethin' that complex!" Flak bellowed confidently.

Shinku just stared dumbfoundedly at his ally.

Blaidd just barked out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Well then...hard to argue with that." And he turned slightly, looking back down. "Right, then. Guess we can work together, at least for a bit." And he hopped over the edge of the cliff, sliding down the steep embankment to tumble into the sand. "Name's Blaidd, by the way. Blaidd the Half-Wolf."

"Wooo! Wolf-man!" Flak cheered.

Shinku just sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.


The Flavor Army has acquired: good dog, best friend
 
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The Man in Red

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FACE-OFF
#004 Michael Myers VS #015 Chaos Agent Rory​

"Got you in my sights, d00d..." Rory muttered to himself, as the hulking goliath of the Franky Shogun stomped its way through the mountains.

Ahead loomed the silhouette of Michael Myers, his battered and broken body still somehow moving in spite of the physical trauma he had suffered.

"Get wrecked, mang!" Rory honked as he slapped at the console in front of him.

Panels in the Shogun's left arm popped open as it raised up, and a volley of immense shells erupted out, machinegun fire blanketing the landscape before him. "GENERAL LEFT!"

The attack was, perhaps thankfully for Myers, rather inaccurate, only serving to land one actual hit on him while the rest tore apart the rocky ledges he was stood on. The clouds of dust and rubble it all threw up masked his presence quite nicely as the Franky Shogun stormed forward to get into prime pulverizing position.

Just as it got close enough, though...a rock the size of a cannonball came bursting out of the dust, and collided with the Iron Pirate's face. A sound of shattering glass and bursting electronics sounded, as the mysterious blue smoke pillared out of the shogun's right eye.

"Agh! Dangit, d00d! That was my favorite eye!"

In anger, the penguin-piloted-shogun unleashed a blistering series of punches and generalized smashes against the....everything in front of him, pulverizing everything into so much dust and gravel.

In his fury, however...he seemed to miss Myers entirely, who suddenly appeared out of the fog, so to speak. And quite literally rocketed forward, surrounded by a glazing red and white glow, the last two gems of the shield on his arm glowing brightly. The masked killer struck the shogun full in the chest, with a terrific noise of groaning, squealing metal, and jammed one battered arm into the hinges of the cockpit door. Wrenching with all his might, as already brittle and ravaged bones did their best Rice Krispies impression, the hatch started to give way. Sparks flew as the locking bolts sheared and snapped, and the door itself began to bend and warp violently.

"Fuck off, d00d!" Rory yelped, and slapped buttons at random again.

The Shogun swung a crazy, unsteady punch with its left arm, catching the serial killer broadside across his body. He was dislodged from his perch on the iron pirate's chest, but clung desperately to the fist that had struck him with one arm, even as he spun and twisted about like a dangling pinata on fraying, tearing flesh as his bones gave up the ghost entirely. A burst of energy from the fire emblem, the red gem guttering and burning out, and he hauled himself up onto the mammoth fist. Driving the rim of the shield into the black metal band behind the fist, the masked killer struck and wrenched at it at it, sawing and levering it apart. With a harsh, squealing POP something gave and the hand went limp, and Myers struck again, using the warped and twisted rim of the shield like a makeshift saw, slashing and gouging his way up the arm of the behemoth.

Sparks flew and wires hissed, explosive shells within the bulky forearm bursting and exploding, as arcs of electricity raced up along the limb. Within the cockpit, several screens went gray as static buzzed across them. At least one burst in a shower of sparks, and the entire body of the iron pirate shuddered and trembled, sending Rory bouncing around its confines like a tuxedo's pinball, as something in the systems went haywire. The left arm lost power entirely, drooping down to hang, dead weight, at the shogun's side and sending Michael Myers tumbling down to the ground.

Thankful for the mental control link, as the stars and miniature penguins spinning around his head clouded his already dazed vision, Rory urged the iron pirate to lurch back, and unleash another weapon system. Ports in its shoulders popped open with bursts of steam, the deadly payload within clicking and whirring to life. "GENERAL LAUNCHER!"

A spraying rain of missiles were unleashed with gouts of flame, soaring up into the air before crashing down in a hailstorm upon Myers' still prone form.

When the smoke and dust cleared, all that was left were a few scraps of bloody jumpsuit, and the scorched, half-melted mask the killer had worn.


Michael Myers used the Fire Emblem twice

The Franky Shogun has had its left arm damaged/disabled, one of its eyes irreparably smashed, and the protective door of its cockpit virtually destroyed
Rory has suffered a severe battering and rattling inside of the Shogun's cockpit, and bashed his head against several things (Major Injury overall)

#004 Michael Myers -- DEAD
 
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The Man in Red

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A CROWN IS WARRANTED WITH STRENGTH
#001 Coda Nitai​

A circular valley had been blasted and carved into the rock. It was roughly hewn, almost as if made by hand or with simple tools, absurd as the notion was to imagine. It wasn't even here at all last time they had come through, after all; that had been only, what...a few hours ago? A day at most. Carving out this much rock by hand was...

Then Coda saw what was waiting ahead. The way everything was littered with pulverized rock and boulders, the walls rough and jagged, but the floor itself relatively even, as if flattened by the stomping and tromping of countless marching feet. Situated in the middle of it all, on a similarly jagged and roughly-carved throne, sat the man himself.

".....brave warrior," he ground out, slowly leaning forward and rising to stand, armor creaking as he did so. "So you have come here alone. You show much courage, but also..." He took his axe in both hands, the lion curled about his shoulders roaring, releasing a blistering wave of air and wind, choked with the salty and acidic tang of blood and battlefield rust. "...much foolishness." He shifted forward into a battle stance, legs wide and back bowed forward, shoulders hunched and his face set in a cold, stony mask. Even so hunched and crouched forward, he towered easily twice Coda's height.

The sky overhead rumbled ominously, dark clouds filling the air over the rend smashed into the mountainside. Red lightning flickered and flashed, and occasionally forks of it split off, licking and raking the walls and turning sand and stone to glass.

"Your performance in this farce of a competition thus far has been impressive...but it ends here, and now." His hands twisted, tightening around the haft of his axe. "By the order of Lord Darkseid, and upon my name as Godfrey...." He stomped forward, the earth shaking under his tread, as his eyes blazed a dull red, and the lion clutching about his shoulders roared to the heavens, purple flame licking across its spectral mane. "...the first Elden Lord."


As of now, an official fight against Godfrey has started. Coda, you have approximately 24 hours as of this post going up to write one post, of whatsoever length you desire, detailing your fight. This will sway and potentially change the overall outcome. If you wish to forgo this chance, message and let me know, and I will move onto judgement.
 

Roy Mustang

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Armstrong stared at the nightmare form in front of him with mounting horror. The figure before him was a mockery of life, a mockery of honor! A paragon of valor stood before him, stance bowed-legged, head lolling at an angle. His breathing, if that was even what he was doing, was an over-long rasp, like it was trying to force air into lungs that refused to comply. Armstrong stepped between Lauren and the creature, raising his guard despite his mounting injuries.

“You are well beyond defeat. Stand down, monster!” He demanded.

The blue-clad corpse regarded Armstrong, continuing its vain attempts at drawing breath.

“Step away from my master… I give you one chance…” The former superhero’s voice echoed up from the core of its being, sounding independently from the rasping sound it emanated.

“Say what?” Armstrong’s brow furrowed as the creature raised the sledge of a blade with the ease of one with preternatural strength. Armstrong steeled himself to block yet another bone crushing attack, but balked in surprise as Lauren slipped around him quickly.

“Stop! You will stop now!” Lauren stepped in front of Armstrong with her arm extended. The creature halted halfway through its lunge, the rasping sound growing deeper as it took a step back. Lauren stepped forwards, her face iron-clad.

“You will listen to my commands? Then you will not attack any but those I declare.”

The once-heroic terror seemed to be in conflict with itself, rattly non-breath growing erratic. It hissed at Lauren, then backed another step away, soul edge dipping back down to the earth.

“Most impressive, Miss Abernathy!” Armstrong bellowed, circling around her with his fist raised, “I shall put the misbegotten beast to rest!”

“Armstrong! Stop!” Lauren called with the same iron will, and the alchemist froze mid-swing, glancing back in confusion.

“I think…” Her voice tremored only slightly, “I think I have him under control… at least for now.”

“...Is that not all the more reason to strike before he is loose? The man’s skills were commendable, but he appeared to have been driven mad even before our previous conflict! As he is now… I would shudder to think what that monster would do if it were to shirk your command!”

“We can use this. We may have no other choice…” the necromancer’s voice remained firm, “There are things on this island that neither of us are prepared or equipped to handle. Things like that horse-borne spirit, that we cannot defeat alone. With this guy… we may stand a chance.”

“Miss Abernathy! Listen well!” Armstrong turned away from the monster now, facing Lauren directly, “The act of human transmutation is a taboo amongst alchemists! A sin of the highest caliber! Are you saying you would command this champion against his own will to do your bidding! As though he were a mere puppet?”

“Armstrong, listen to me!” Lauren’s eyes were imperceptible behind the large black shades, but her voice held only the tiniest hint of hesitation in its firmness “As a necromancer, I am well aware of exactly how delicate this situation is! Through some means that I do not fully understand, that syringe has placed the spirit of that being under my control. It is now my responsibility to see that this spirit is used correctly.”

“Then-”

“That is a burden I have not undertaken lightly, and not one that I will discard off-handedly.”

Lauren’s last sentence held an undercurrent of edge, and Armstrong became suddenly aware of the quite powerful being that was standing a short ways behind him, apparently under the control of his ally. There could only be one winner on this island at the end of the conflict after all. He cooled his rising indignation slightly. Armstrong raised his hands openly, appealing earnestly.

“Why not simply put it to rest this instant? Is that not what your family does?”

“I swear to you that his soul will be properly laid to rest, Armstrong.” Lauren’s answer was immediate and sure, but she continued before Armstrong could interject, “However, we can’t do that yet.”


“I had believed that your family was a line of noble purpose! Seeking to see the tortured spirits of the world brought to proper peace!”

Lauren said nothing to this, so Armstrong persisted, his voice growing louder, and bolder now.

“We do not need such a monster at our side!”

“We cannot win here without his help, Armstrong.”

“We will face the opposition with respectable vigor!”

“And we will die with it.” Her voice remained level and controlled, though the rasping not-breath of the being behind Armstrong was growing slightly more eager as the pair stared each other down.

Armstrong’s hands dropped to his side, refusing to look back at the pitiable creature that had fought him so determinedly only moments before. Unable to meet the gaze of the ally he had fought alongside since his arrival here. How had it all come undone so quickly?

“His soul is… twisted, Armstrong.” Lauren’s voice had lost some of its iron now, “Even before… this… something wrong has happened to him. To his soul. If we act rashly not only will we be tossing aside the key to our survival here, but I have grave doubts that he would be able to rest peacefully. I need… time to understand what has happened to him. What’s happened to his soul…

She stepped closer, one hand removed from the pocket of her coat as she extended it to Armstrong.

“I will do right by this, right by him. I promise it, on my family’s name.” The Necromancer’s voice sounded earnest. Oh so earnest…

“Can you trust me enough to give me the time to figure out what is right?”

She waited there, hand extended, While Armstrong remained with his head bowed.

“...I pledged to act as your protector during your time upon this island, Miss Abernathy…” Armstrong inhaled a deep breath, turning away from the proffered hand to face the walking corpse of the former symbol of justice and truth.

“To the very marrow of my core, this creature wrongs me. I would see it destroyed before further mayhem is caused by its tragedy. If you cannot be swayed from this course of action, then I have no recourse but to continue to preserve you, in the hopes that you will recognize the horror of your actions in time to correct them. If you do not…” He trailed off into silence again.

Lauren’s face fell somewhat. She lowered the hand, instead reaching into her coat for a fresh smoke. A few clicks and it caught light.

“Fair enough, Big Guy…” she said as she exhaled a trail up into the sky.

She turned away, hands back into her coat pockets.

“We shouldn’t stay here either way. Come on.”
 

Arthur Morgan

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Coda held her tongue as the colossal man spoke, the rumbling of his words like the tolling of a death knell inside her skull. She stood poised and unmoving, spine rigid and chin upraised, matching the Elden Lord's stare with one of her own. Not a quiver in her frame and not a flicker of doubt in her gaze.

Foolish, he had called her. Her heart raced as her indignation swelled, shaking her down to her very core, manifesting as a fine trembling in her limbs— tremors of suppressed rage. Oh, but Coda would show him foolish.

"Seven minutes," Coda purred in a sibilant hiss, nonchalantly reaching up to adjust her sunglasses. Twin points of red-tinged orange glimmered behind the darkened lenses, hot like cinders in a forge. "Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you."

Challenge given voice, the woman shifted into a more cautious stance, knees bent and the muscles of her legs coiling with tension. Barely-there restraint caged her in, her heart hammering like a wild thing inside her breast, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck lifting in alarm; like a trembling cub in the path of a ravening lion, ready to take flight whenever feral instinct prompted her.

Features hardening, the corrupt lord's eyes sank to a deeper shade of crimson. Darkness swept across the hollow of his gaze, frothing like angry thunderheads across a humid summer sky, simmering with ill-restrained violence. The tattered folds of his cloak billowed outward, finely-detailed armor settling in an exoskeleton of steel across his body, clinking softly, as he took one. Step. Forward.

In a single movement he spun, axe coming round and striking hard against the earth.

SCHINK! Sparks hissed out in dancing embers of purple energy, the might of his blade pulverizing the stone beneath its weight into a fine mist. And like an enraged bull unleashed, he roared straight for her— axe screaming as it skimmed along the ground, throwing up chunks of rock and earth like comets in his trail.

As much as Coda wanted to, she didn't turn and flee— rather, she held her ground, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. She observed keenly as the colossal man's shadow passed over her, axe lifted, the lion-shaped specter over his shoulder snarling as he brought the weapon bearing down, swinging directly for her head.

SCHIIIWING! The axe-head whistled past Coda as she expertly rolled to the side, narrowly missing its chance to cleave her body in twain. The crunch of stone and the ear-splitting pang of metal tearing the earth asunder rang out and echoed off the jagged walls of the arena, throwing up a whirlwind of dust in her wake, the deafening clamor dulled under the tremendous roar of hot blood in her ears.

Godfrey labored with a guttural grunt, drawing his axe free from the cracked earth with the grating, screeching sound of metal gouging stone. The thick veins of his muscled arms popped and sprung as he whirled around, swinging its blade once more in her direction.

Between one second and the next, Coda had vanished like a wraith— a light-colored phantom flickering at the edge of Godfrey's vision, ducking under his guard to drive home a vicious one-two lateral jab to the side of his bare leg.

It barely staggered him. His armor rattled a little, maybe, but that was it. Coda's eyes widened, breath hissing through her teeth as she danced backwards a few paces, just barely evading the downward thrust of his axe. An inferno of flames erupted from the strike, as well, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning hair.

It hit like a thunderclap, rattling through the earth with enough force that it was a wonder Coda didn't go flying with the impact. As it was, it took everything she had to remain standing, teeth clacking painfully together as the shock-wave traveled up her legs, the flames an uncomfortable flash of heat licking up her skin.

Abruptly, the Elden Lord raised one leg and hammered it down in a fierce stamp. Jagged fragments of rock flew up, the glinting edges cutting deep into Coda's cheeks as she leapt away to avoid the blow, scant inches spanning the distance between her slender form and his immense boot. Again and again he swung for her, blade thirsting for a taste of her blood.

Through it all, Coda darted and twisted and clung close, never once moving outside of his orbit. Circling, like a tiger on the prowl— searching for her next opportunity to strike.

"I really do regret this, your lordship," Coda shouted to be heard above the din of combat, tone conversational as she pivoted around the colossal Elden Lord in a fleet-footed yet undeniably chaotic dance of haphazard evasive maneuvers. "But I must inform you that you are trespassing upon the property of the Carnivale Rosa! By way of contract, I am obligated to see to your removal immediately— I simply must apologize!"

A fierce roar left the jowls of the spectral lion hovering over the corrupt lord's shoulder, the only response the man gave being to lift his axe high over his head and bring it bearing down upon Coda's form in a savage arc. Caught mid-dash, there was little she could do to avoid the strike— or so her foe seemed to think.

With the sound of rattling maracas, Coda's silhouette blurred and vanished, a dizzying after-image flickering in her wake— reappearing behind Godfrey as he staggered with the forward drag of his own momentum. In a second's time she had unleashed a searing horizontal strike to his upper thigh, quickly followed by a flurry of equally hard-hitting blows, each with more force behind it than the last.

Again, her attacks certainly seemed to be landing, but to no avail. The man wheeled, axe rasping against the earth and Coda's nerves alike. First he swung to the right, Coda dodging and all but flying to the side as she struggled to avoid his strike— then to the left, Coda slipping beneath the blow, the blade of his axe just barely grazing her upper arm— and then again with added wrath to the left, at last clipping Coda hard around her midsection.

The blow knocked the breath out of her, sending her sailing across the fissure-shaped arena. But just as it looked like she might be bound to crash against the sheer rock face, Coda twisted her body in midair with a fluid, feline grace, her heels springing off from the wall with a light crunch of stone.

She landed in a panther-like crouch, feet skidding across the ground, hands outspread on either side of her to keep her perfectly even-keeled and balanced. A stain of bright red began to blossom over her pristine white dress shirt, slicking the fabric to her hip with its stickiness.

Ignoring her injuries, Coda kept her reptilian gaze firmly locked upon the titan, scarcely having a second to regain her breath before he was upon her yet again— weapon crashing in the space she'd occupied but a split-second ago, splinters of shale exploding outward from the impact.

Behind her sunglasses, the young woman's eyes flared ever brighter, a faint luminescence that steadily grew in intensity, seething with a fierce and unwavering rage. Her movements grew faster, more daring, her feet scarcely touching the floor as she weaved around her target's attacks, striking him wherever she could reach— the only scrap of her visible being the lurid glare of her eyes, her silhouette blurred and flashing in and out of sight.

And inside Coda's mind, a timer steadily ticked down: the time between now and the moment when her companions would inevitably notice her sudden absence. She needed to end this, posthaste.

Her adversary bared his teeth in vexation, tracking her movements with a slow, deliberate turn of his head. His next strike was more powerful, sending jagged lances of rock erupting from the ground, jutting outward in a bristling area attack.

Coda anticipated this, and with remarkable precision, used one of the jagged stone spears to launch herself skyward, dodging the assault. She swiftly followed up by lunging forward, a glowing crimson fist detonating against the grizzled jaw of her assailant.

Surprisingly, the force of the blow jolted the Elden Lord backwards with a grunt, making him a tad unsteady on his feet. He quickly readjusted his position, a hardened glint returned to his eye. Grip tightening around the haft of his axe, he raised it high above his head, silhouette beginning to blaze with a fiery, red-tinged aura...

Coda has used 1 application of Focus to go Wesker Mode. Cornered Tiger bonuses applied!
 

Eddie the Head

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Welcome to your choice of obscurity.

Rapid fire thoughts scorched through a capitalist consumed, not-for-profit mind. Lyrics to an indie song play in your head, strumming along to an invisible tune.

Death. Diablo. Duuuuude. The groupthink masterpiece of collective human consciousness formed through waves of energy moving through him, shifting formless from place to place, story to story.

“Santiago…? Is that you?”

Mad sounds, all around me, what is this? Speaking tones. Is that my voice, am I speaking out loud? How do I know I am hearing within my being? How do you perceive a sound within a mind, without your ears?

For some reason, white noise was everywhere and blurring all ideas together. Wandering a special, metaphysical desert where every granule of sand is a thought torrent.

But, how do I get out? The idea floated away like a multiversal bubble to the wind… Or soda?

Sorry but, Pop!

Confusion wore on the living skull’s face perpetuated by the shine of the sunlight scalding his skin.

Why’s this happening to me? Why? Why me?

Ahhhhhh. The search continued. With no relief, Eddie frustratingly used his fingertips to pluck blades of grass out of thin air. Searching for the thought that would not come within a compassless abyss. Where am I? Why can't I escape?

The mind. Portrait of a thousand words. Mosaic of toneless music. Welcome to the one true abyss: Self.


"O God of Earth and Altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die,
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
Take away our pride."
[G.K. Chesterton: English Hymnal]

Just a babe in a black abyss,
No reason for a place like this,
The walls are cold and souls cry out in pain,
An easy way for the blind to go,
A clever path for the fools who know
The secret of the Hanged Man - the smile of his lips.
[song, Iron Maiden, Revelations]
 

Eddie the Head

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Everything changes. Childhood is the final broken dream of a man who lay dying in his own mind. Yes, the mind can starve itself.

Hello, starving mind.

Hello? I wait for you to call.

Hello? I wait for you to answer.


Soundless song. No broken records here. Precious thoughts, precious words, precious time. Do not waste it on something small, trivial, but only the true experience of a lifetime.

The ageless hello of time. How it says goodbye to our promised mortality. Soul, eternal creation. Art lives within all realities.

Once, you looked into my reflection.
In order to fill an empty void.
Timeless, spaceless, thoughtless.
Is a choice that comes full circle.
To speak through art, is to never be alone.
Storied stories
And Purpose within time, history, self.
As I may have alluded, a little poetry is in me.

Composed by life,
Confined by bone,
I sang once, useless
Until I didn’t anymore.

Soulless, my heart lay carved out
Beating flatly on the ground
Pumping raw feelings
Oozing echoless gore.

Never broken.
Just not alive,
Anymore.
” - Eddie the Head
 
Last edited:

The Man in Red

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Team Thundersharks​


It had only been a few minutes, at most, since Coda had slipped off. A few minutes that felt like hours.

Most of the group was just idly chatting and passing the time, at first about this and that, alternately planning their next move or just talking about nothing. After the first minute or three, though, Kiryu and Majima had launched into an impromptu example of what they called a traditional Japanese comedy routine.

“Hey, hey, Kiryu-chan! Something really weird happened the other day, you know?”

“What? Something really weird?”

“Yeah, yeah! Really, super weird!”

“What happened, Majima-san?”

“So, I went outside to go check the mail, right?”

“To check the mail?”

“Check the mail!”

“So you got your mail.”

“No! I never got it! I saw something super weird before I could?”

“Something super weird? What did you see?”

“My bicycle!”

“Your bicycle?”

“Yeah, my bicycle!”

“What was so weird about your bicycle!”

“Well, it was weird, because I left it leaning to the right against a pole, right?”

“Against a pole. Right.”

“But! But when I went outside, it was leaning to the left!”

“To the left?”

“To the left, Kiryu-chan!”

“That is kind of weird.”

“So, so when I went over to check it out…”

“To check it out?”

“Yeah, to check it out! So I went over and I was looking at it and guess what?”

“What?”

“My bike horn!”

“Your bike horn?”

“My bike horn! Someone stole it!”

“Stole your bike horn?”

“Yeah, my bike horn! Just the bike horn!”

“You’d think they would steal the whole bike.”

“I know, right?!”

They trailed off into another bit, as Zayin just chuckled weakly, trying to mask that he only sort of half got it, while Nanaue just blinked slowly, his mouth agape.

But Mister Satan sat off to one side, arms folded in his lap, and his face twisted in a grimace. He knew something was up. Couldn’t put one past the Champ that easy. Someone who had been faking it as well as he had for as long as he had could spot that kind of thing plain as day. Coda hadn’t left to go do something as simple as take a shit break. Not looking like that. She was either planning not to come back, or do something really stupid.

It gnawed at him deep inside, in a place he didn’t like having gnawed at. He was really just a big blowhard, compared to some of the people here. Okay, most of the people here. Martial arts and bravado could only take you so far compared to all of the crazy stuff going on in the Crossroads right now. But still…but still…!

He screwed his face up, sweat beading on his forehead. What kind of man would he be, what kind of CHAMP would he be, what kind of HERO would he be, what kind of ROLE MODEL would he be, if he just sat on his ass when he knew something really bad was about to go down? When it was about to happen to someone who had saved him from going out like a chump rather than a champ, when it would’ve been so easy to just let his big goofy behind slip into the biggest, longest nap of his life?

…..not to mention, someone that was really just a kid. Probably around the same age as his own daughter, for pete’s sake!

Gritting his teeth, he suddenly rose to his feet wordlessly. He fished in his pocket, pulling out the capsule that his rocket launcher was in, and stared at it in his clenched fist for a moment. Then, screwing his eyes shut, he shoved it in his duffel bag and set it on the ground, before grabbing his white cape and tying it back around his shoulders, then dashing off.

So caught up with the performance of the two Yakuza, the rest of the group didn’t even notice until the be-afroed man was long gone, turning to him with a, “Hey, Mister Satan, did you hear that?”

“….Mister Satan?”


. . . . . .
 

The Man in Red

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A CROWN IS WARRANTED WITH STRENGTH
#001 Coda Nitai, #008 Mister Satan​

Godfrey raised his axe high overhead, fire burning in his shadow as the spectral lion about him let out a mighty roar. And then he smote the earth with all his force, stomping with one colossal boot at the same instant the haft of his axe struck.

The force was tremendous, the entire valley shaking and rumbling as if in an earthquake. Shockwaves rippled out through the earth and air, forcing Coda back and nearly taking her off her feet. And in that instant, the Elden Lord was on the move, suddenly moving with speed which absolutely belied his immense size. He surged forward, each step carrying him the breadth of ten, as he all but glided over the arena, axe hefted and poised to deliver a killing blow.

Coda hissed, tensing her body as she flipped forward, planting both hands in the rocky earth and pushing, springing up and over the blow coming for her head. Time seemed to slow down as she grazed over it, the pitted and chipped blade of the axe passing so closely by her face that she could see the shadow of her reflection in the dull, corroded surface.

Then she flipped past, landing unsteadily on her feet and skidding roughly over the uneven ground. Immediately, tensing her legs, she sprang forward, covering the distance in a heartbeat and launching into a spirited uppercut. Red light and flame erupted around her fist, in the shape of a mighty rooster's crest, as an echoing blast of sound erupted, the same as a rooster welcoming the dawn. A sharp crunch sounded as Godfrey's head was thrown back, and a phantom crowed cheered madly as Coda followed through with the punch, rising into the air.

She lunged forward, grabbing hold of the corrupt Elden Lord with both hands; one clutched at his crown, the other at his beard. With a wordless growl, baring her teeth, she slammed her head forward with a burst of golden light, a shockwave rippling out of the noble chieftain's skull in the shape of a gargantuan stone head, with a deep reverberating hum shaking the arena.

Godfrey staggered back from the blow, even as Coda dropped back to the arena floor, breathing heavily. Loose strands of hair fell in front of her face as her hands twitchily clenched and unclenched from, nails digging into her palms with every fist she made. She hoped against hope that somehow that would be enough to take down the Elden Lord, but...part of her stomach sank anyway when he regained his feet.

"Thy strength and skills are impressive indeed, young warrior," he spoke, planting his armored boots firmly as he recovered his stance. The lion on his back growled, a low and reverberating basso rumble that shook loose pebbles and stones. "But impressive will not see thee through to victory." And the spectral lion roared to the heavens, the clouds overhead rumbling as thunder pealed and echoed within, forks of scarlet lancing down in explosive bursts.

Coda leaped back, frantically and desperately ducking dodging and rolling to avoid getting struck. Her form was a blur as she dashed this way and that, evading impact after impact. Godfrey raised one immense boot and stomped the earth once more, sending cracks spidering through it as chunks of stone blasted up, staggering and off-balancing her efforts and leaving her wide open to a direct strike.

She screamed.

White hot agony raced down every nerve in her body, and she could swear her skeleton briefly glowed though her skin. For one single, hellish second all she knew was pain, then it passed, leaving her breathless and winded, vision tinged with red and nose filled with the smell of charred meat and singed hair. It was all she could do to stumble out of the way of Godfrey as he charged into deliver an overhand blow, his axe splitting the ground where she had stood as if it were cardboard.

Coda weakly stumbled and staggered about, her burned and twitching muscles refusing to work as she willed them to. She could only look up and try desperately to blink stars out of her vision as Godfrey bent at the knees and suddenly leaped into the air, his axe held back above his head in an posture.

"Come on..." she mentally told herself. "...move! MOVE!" Her legs trembled, and she managed a single step before they gave out. She watched as Godfrey wound up and hurled his axe through the air, spinning like a buzzsaw as it arced through the air directly toward her...

...then she heard the fluttering rustle of a cape, and someone scooped her up from the ground, rolling and tumbling to the side as the axe smashed into the earth like a meteor, with Godfrey right behind it, wrenching it free and sliding with the momentum of his leap, spinning about to launch into immediate pursuit.

"Wha....w-who?" Coda slurred out, blinking rapidly.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little missy," came the familiar voice of Mister Satan as he gently set her down. "You leave this poser...to the Champ." And he rose up to his feet, squaring off protectively in front of his stunned ally even as Godfrey closed in.

With a wordless shout, the martial arts champion threw himself into the mix. Even his impressive stature was dwarfed by the corrupt Elden Lord's, barely reaching chest height on the grizzled chieftain. But it didn't deter him. His jaw was set, his eyes cold and hard, even as a frigid sweat poured down his forehead. His arms shook, and his legs threatened to give out under him at any moment from fear, but he soldiered on.

He danced and rolled around the colossal axe, dipping and ducking and weaving with all the grace and skill he had built up in his long career. Every move left shreds of his cape and scraps of his gi behind, sweat and blood pooling on the rocks below as he barely avoided certain deathblow after certain deathblow. "C'mon, you old geezer! Mister Satan's gonna put you out of your misery!" And he suddenly up high, springing into the air in a vaulting leap over his foe as Godfrey overbalanced on a particularly vicious swing.

Landing behind his larger foe, Mister Satan drew in a deep breath. "SATAAAAAAN....." And he jolted forward, swinging a blow with all the force he could muster. "....PUUUUNCH!""

By all accounts, it was a mighty blow. Mightier than most any 'normal' man could ever hope to manage, and it struck true and proudly, nailing the Elden Lord in the side of his face with an impact like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef. Wind kicked up, and the force of the strike blew the wild gray of beard and mane into a harsh cloud around Godfrey's head.

.....then the Elden Lord slowly turned his head, forcing Satan's fist out of its way, and glaring down at him. "Thy courage is commendable, but thy spirit is lacking," he growled, and the haft of his axe struck Mister Satan in the chest, with a sharp crack that sent him reeling and took the wind out of him. The champ, dropping to his knee and bracing himself with one hand to stop from collapsing entirely, cough and hacked as he tried to will air back into his lungs.

The brief distraction was all Coda needed to complete her own recovery, as she suddenly came dashing into view, the sound of a rampaging bull bellowing out of nowhere as she crashed into the Elden Lord broadside, releasing a wash of blue energy as a chorus of mariachi music echoed about the arena. With a wordless snarl, he simply lashed out with a backhand, clipping Coda's forehead and sending her flipping backward to land on the ground on her back, with a pained gasp.

Mister Satan staggered to his feet, wiping away blood and sweat from his face. "C'mon, gramps! Leave the girl alone, and pick on somebody your own size!" He pointed proudly forward, his eyes shining brightly, as he roared, "Or are you so much of a coward you're really gonna turn your back on THE CHAMPION?!"

His challenge echoed in the arena, and actually gave Godfrey pause, making the corrupt lord halt mid-raise of his axe. "I've entertained thy interruptions....more than enough," he rumbled, before slowly turning about, away from Coda, to face Satan directly. "A fool should know his place, and stick to the courts. The field of battle is no place for a clown." And he stomped forward, lumbering into axe-ing range.

Every muscle and bone in Mister Satan's body screamed at him to leave. His brain told him to leave. The angel and devil on his shoulder pleaded with him to leave.

...but his heart roared defiantly, demanding he stay.

And he stayed.

With a wordless battle cry, he charged forward, fist cocked back to deliver another mighty blow!

SCCCCHHHHKKRING

SKKKRELCH


Sparks flew, and Godfrey's axe came up in a vicious arc....and the blade buried itself in Mister Satan's chest with a harsh, meaty squelch.

His mighty yell died instantly, his body freezing in mid-motion, as if struggling to process what had just happened. His mouth hung gaping open, his eyes wide and staring.

Then he slowly looked down. Seeing the axe in his chest, and blood flowing freely from the jagged wound the pitted, warped weapon had made. His hands shakily came to it, weakly patting and clutching at it, as if trying to figure out what it was. His feet touched the ground as Godfrey lowered his axe.

The world went dim and dark, as the champion's vision tinged and flooded with red. The sound of wind and thunder rumbling overhead grew distant and faint, a dull rushing and roaring flooding his ears instead. With a wordless, half-choked grunt he slumped forward, eyes rolling back in his head.

"....ste....tan!"

Distantly, as if from a long distance, he heard something.

"Mis...Sata....!"

Someone...was calling his name?

"Mister Satan!"

Yeah...that was it. Someone was calling his name. Someone was calling the champ home.

"Satan! Satan! Satan! Satan! Satan!"

The crowds. His fans. They were waiting for him; waiting for him to come back proud and victorious again, champion of another tournament.

"....papa?"

Mister Satan's eyes snapped open, light flooding back to his world. Coda, her face pale, had risen back to her feet. "Mister Satan!" she screamed, and threw herself at Godfrey with everything she had left.

Oh. That was right. He hadn't won yet. A wordless, choked groan left his lips, as he willed his shaking, failing body to move. His trembling hands grasped the haft of the axe buried in his chest and held fast with an iron grip. His mighty muscles, honed from a long life of enduring beatings and training martial arts the world over, tensed and flexed.

Godfrey moved to rip his axe free....but it didn't budge. It remained firmly buried in the champ's chest. Satan spat up blood and sweat poured down his face, his eyes glazing and glossing over for a second time, but he held fast. "Listen here, Coda...." he managed weakly. "....you're....fightin' with the Champ, here..." Blood dripped down his chin, as he struggled with his words, his lips moving soundlessly for a moment before he continued. "And the Champ...nev...never loses..."

He turned his eyes to her, his failing vision only able to see a bare silhouette. "So you listen here!" And with the last of his strength, he let out a wordless, mighty battle roar. Every muscle in his body tensed, veins standing out in stark relief, as he pulled with everything he had left. Blood gushed and spurted from his wounds, as he slowly but surely overpowered and overbalanced Godfrey, wrenching the axe from his hands.

"...you...win this, Coda! The Champ...is taggin' you in!" He coughed and sputtered, sprawling on his back as Godfrey's eyes went wide.

"Satan! Satan! Satan!"

There it was again...the crowds cheering. They were rooting him on, even now.

Raising one shaky fist, Mister Satan flashed a thumbs-up to Coda. "Knock 'em dead, Champ!" he bellowed, his words fading into a proud, boisterous laugh.

.....and then silence.

Sheer, deafening silence.

Coda's hands trembled, her eyes wide and quivering, as her face slowly twisted into a teeth-baring snarl. Her entire body shook with barely-restrained fury.

Something in her mind snapped. A flood of gold light roared up around her, as a voice in the background screamed, "INTENSO!"

She vanished, in a puff of black smoke.

Flashes of light, flickering from blue to green to red to yellow to purple, all intermingled and interspersed with black smoke and feral, anguished screams, surrounded the corrupt Elden Lord. He was battered and knocked to and fro, staggering and stumbling with each impact. Coda's fists began to ache and bleed, bones threatening to crack. But she didn't relent. Her hair came undone from its pristine braid, flaring out behind her in a wild, unkempt mane. But she didn't relent. Her coat and clothes were spattered and drenched in equal parts of blood and thick, noxious purple ichor. But she didn't relent.

Only when Godfrey let out a grunt of pain and dropped to a knee, blood pouring from his mangled face, did she finally pause for even a moment.

And then she struck one final time. Like a knife, her hand pierced the Elden Lord's chest, fingertips spearing in and ripping out his back.

Godfrey shuddered and trembled, dropping to both knees. Blood dripped from his mouth, as he sagged against his foe. "....brave...warrior...." he wheezed out. "....'twas...nobly faught..."

Coda ripped her arm free, her fingers shaking and trembling as blood ran down to splash on the ground below.

"....thy strength....truly befits...a crown..." And the first Elden Lord, Godfrey, collapsed onto his side. The mighty lion about his shoulders roared and screamed to the heavens as it disintegrated into motes of sickening purple radiance, drifting into the clouds above.


Mister Satan used one application of Focus to inspire Coda and distract Godfrey.

Coda suffered several cuts and abrasions from Godfrey's axe and earth-shaking blows, but they were only surface-level (Minor Injury); the lightning strike she suffered will be a much more impactful injury, as her body was largely fried and overwhelming by the sudden voltage (Major Injury); Coda has also caused herself some damage to both hands, tearing open skin and possibly fracturing several fingers (Minor Injury), but the real damage is bearing Mister Satan's Sacrifice (Insane Story Injury)

#008 Mister Satan -- DEAD
Godfrey has been defeated. His weapon of choice, the Elden Lord's Axe, and the Chieftain's Crown, can be claimed by Coda.
 

Zayin

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Before Coda’s showdown with Godfrey

“Whoooaoaoaoah,” Zayin warbled as he attempted yet another headspin, managing a few revolutions before quickly getting dizzy and toppling over, landing face first with an undignified wheeze-grunt combination.

“Gahahaha! You almost had it that time.” Majima cackled, spinning on his back before screeching to a stop, striking a pose and flashing a finger gun at the angel. “Keep at it, you’ll be a deadly disco dancer in no time.”

“I’m still not convinced that this is a real fighting style.” The living weapon mumbled, his voice muffled by the dirt that his face was currently buried in, his formerly pristine robes stained with mud from the numerous failed attempts at learning the breaker style.

“Yeah… I don’t wanna knock it ‘till I try it, buuuut…” Mr Satan said skeptically as he watched from the sidelines, just a little distraught at the act of martial arts slander occurring before his eyes. “That’s not any martial art I’ve ever seen.”

“Well you’ve never had to survive in the mean streets of Kamurocho.” Majima grinned, not moving from his French-girl pose on the floor.

“I hate to admit it, but he’s being serious right now.” Kiryu sighed, his arms crossed and a thousand-yard stare in his face. “The breaker style is no joke, and I say that as someone who’s been on the receiving end of it…”

Silence descended over the group as they tried to imagine exactly what had gone on between the two Yakuza in the past, something that none of them quite wanted to picture.

“Right…” Mr Satan mumbled, glancing around desperately to change the subject, his gaze eventually settling on Nanaue. “Hey, big guy, where's Coda gotten off to?”

The Sharkman, who had up to that point been staring absent-mindedly into the Sword of Omens, suddenly froze. Trying to act innocent, his gaze flicked from the champ, to the two Yakuza, to the angel who had lifted his face from the dirt and was currently fixing him with an inquisitive look.

“Uh…” He gasped. “…pooping…”

“Urgh, everyday I’m thankful not to have a digestive system.” Zayin cringed, shuddering a little as he got to his feet.

“What?!” Mr Satan gasped, his eyes practically popping out of his head as his jaw hit the ground. “You don’t have any guts?!”

“I told you I don’t ea-“ Before he could finish, Majima cut in boisterously.

“Damn right he doesn’t!” He howled. “Hit the floor and give me another headspin.”

“I… fine.” Zayin sighed, swiftly kicking one foot into the air, balancing himself on one hand before moving into the headspin, giving himself some momentum before taking his hand away. The angel spun chaotically, his wings blurring together into one solid radius like a spinning top. As he attempted to throw a kick from the position, however, he threw himself off balance, landing unceremoniously on his back. “…No, this has to be some elaborate joke.”

“Elaborate joke?” Majima scoffed. “Kiryu-chan, come here. We’ll show these guys a real joke.”

After Coda’s showdown with Godfrey.

By the time the group had realised that Mr Satan had vanished, leaving only his rocket launcher behind, it was already too late, only realising the gravity of the situation when Nanaue was coaxed into letting Coda’s true objective slip. Even still, the quartet sprinted across the island as quick as their feet could carry them, desperate to save their allies.

The group reached the war torn battlefield as one, glancing across the ground scarred by Godfrey and Coda’s blows alike. And there, in the middle of it all, were two corpses and their wounded, exhausted, but victorious friend.

Zayin was stunned for a second, unable to process what he was seeing, only to be snapped out of his trance by Nanaue bulldozing past him.

“Friend!” King Shark bellowed, his voice heavy with worry as he lumbered over to her as fast as he could manage. Sprinting after him, the angel was hot on his heels, the pair reaching her at the same time.

“Hey guys.” She said weakly, her voice trembling a little as the rage drained from her system, leaving her feeling empty with nothing to replace it. “I did it…”

“Yeah… yeah you did.” The living weapon murmured as he looked up at the broken form of Godfrey, the mighty warrior reduced to a shattered corpse by his companion.

“Mr Satan… he… for me…” The Carnivale Employee choked out, her voice shaking even more. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would we be mad at you?” Zayin said soothingly, crouching next to her and gently embracing her, patting her back reassuringly. “You and Mr Satan felled this corrupted champion brilliantly.”

“What do you mean?” Coda sniffed. “Yeah, we killed him, but…”

“It’s ok.” The angel reassured her, forcing a calm demeanour. In truth, he was about as distraught as she was, but he would need to wait to mourn. Right now, they needed to get out of the area before the whole place collapsed under the weight of the unmaking. “Mr Satan knew what he was doing. I’m sure that such a heroic end is exactly what the defender of the world would want. Better this than being torn apart by that horrible acid witch.”

“It… it ok friend.” Nanaue said, fighting desperately against his instincts in the face of two fresh corpses, drool dripping from his jaws.

“Son of a bitch.” Majima exclaimed, with Kiryu giving an affirming grunt. A hurt look crossed over the faces of the yakuza, evidently more wounded by the champ’s passing than even they had expected. “Mr Satan was one hell of a guy, huh?”

“He sure was.” The Dragon of Dojima agreed, his stoic expression trembling for an instant. “What will we do with his body? We can’t just leave it there.”

“We won’t!” Coda snapped before catching herself. “Uh… sorry. We won’t just leave him here. We’ll… we’ll take him with us, at least until we can bury him somewhere nice…”

Her more humanoid companions glanced at each other, giving one another a look of agreement, though not before Majima grimaced at Nanaue.

“What’re we gonna do about the big guy?” The Mad Dog grunted. “How long can we hold him back before he goes all Hannibal on the body?”

“I… I think I have a solution.” Coda murmured, turning to the colossal corpse of Godfrey. Zayin opened his mouth to object, reasoning that even as corrupt as he may have been, a warrior deserved a better burial than that. Then, as his gaze fell on the desecrated body of his friend, the angel’s jaw set itself into a hard line.

Mr Satan may not have had the same faith as Zayin, but as far as the angel was concerned, the man was a saint.

‘Rest easy now, champ.’ He thought. ‘Whether it’s the Expanse, or whatever your idea of heaven is, I hope you’re there now…’

“Hey, Nanaue.” The living weapon said, his mind made up as he gestured to Godfrey, guiding the sharkman’s gaze over to the Elden Lord’s body.

“Hmm?”

“Num nums.”
 

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When he sniffed the body the tendrils of scent burned in his nostrils. Rust, rot, and the coppery taste of blood mingled into an aromatic cocktail that, when he took a sip of it through his nose, offended the olfactory senses immediately. A miasma of stench eddied its way through his filtration system then seeped out of his gills, autonomous and intent in its lazy expansion out into the air.

“BLEUCH!” Nanaue recoiled, nose wrinkling. He waved a hand in front of his nose. “Bad num nums!”

He backed away from Godfrey’s body, revolted, while the rest of the group watched him. Majima’s eye, a cycloptic ‘O’ of surprise, shot from King Shark’s backpedaling to the tremendous hill of corpse on the ground.

Godfrey, all gold and blood and the promise of dead strength now drained, remained motionless. They could feel his Unmaking from their respective positions, each of them, and the distant hum of the Unmaking yet to come. It was a buzz, far away and almost imperceptible, but there underneath everything else.

Time was growing short.

“Come on,” Coda commanded, voice taut with exhaustion and spent emotion. “We need to be quick about this.”

She moved forward and plucked something from the skull of Godfrey, something that shone faintly in the dying light of the day, then moved purposefully towards Nanaue. Her steps and intent were so intense even in the wake of the energy she’d expended that the King of Sharks actually took a tentative step back, as if he were about to get whacked with a newspaper.

Coda swept out a leg and did a half-bow, hands forward, palms-up in a gesture of pseudo prostration. In her palms rested a crown, a simple steel affair scrimshawed with tribal symbology, wrought cleanly but with great care. A well-made thing.

“Your Highness,” said Coda. Beneath her tone there was something like an emotionally withered humor, but she was too drained from…what had happened. It wasn’t a true joke, but a shell of one. “Your crown.”

Nanaue picked it up with his thumb and forefinger, sizable as they were, and placed the affectation on his head.

There he stood in his regalia: King Nanaue, the first of his name, ruler of the sharks and miscellaneous marine biology, resplendent in crown and jorts and with his Sword of Omens in hand.

Majima, for one, laughed and applauded.

“Bahaha!” he howled out, throwing back his head. “Long live the King!”

Coda was already moving. With considerable effort she scooped up the enormous axe that lay dormant at the side of the Mountain of Dead Godfrey, strode forward, and thrust its handle into the hands of Zayin. He went to protest, but the withering look Coda gave him stopped him before he had started.

Then she went and picked up her sunglasses, placed them back on her masked face, moved over to Mister Satan, picked him up over her shoulder fireman style, and strode past the rest of the group.

‘You don’t want to forget about the Champ!’ she could almost hear him saying it, if he had been here. But he wasn’t. He was dead, and what remained of him was her burden to carry.

The rest of them followed in what may have been the strangest funeral procession yet seen by the Crossroads. The Unmaking closed in at their back, a slow rolling fog the curtailed the possibility of any errant pursuers, but even if they had been being followed, the Thundersharks were not in the mindset to spare any concern. They were set in their path.

So they picked their way back the way they’d come, past the chewed over ground they’d tromped once before, through the jagged jigsaw puzzle of saw-toothed rocks where they’d made their camp, and further. Further on to an area of trees, beyond the reach of the Unmade mist that threatened to be their undoing for now at least, and into a copse of trees where they’d stopped once and taken a break in the time when they were a whole unit, unbroken.

One link short of a full chain now, they came to a stop. Coda set down his body, back against a tree, and crouched in front of him. Nobody said anything, even Nanaue, whose stomach gave an audible rumbled that borrowed a glance from the others. Coda didn’t look back, though. Not at the enormous shark with his strange crown and powerful sword, and not at the Angel of Challenge with whom she’d shared laughs and time before the competition. Not at the Yakuza pair with whom they’d shared songs and words, and not at the absent place where Mister Satan should’ve stood.

Instead she put a hand on the shoulder of her fallen ally.

“He was the Champ,” she began in a low tone, while the others stepped forward to listen, forming a loose semi-circle around both of them. “Is the Champ,” she corrected herself. “Whatever happens from here on, we’ll remember that he was the best of us. I wouldn’t be standing without his sacrifice, and he showed a courage and spirit that we’ll never see the like of again. No man stood taller, lived more honestly, or laughed quite as easily as he did. He is a titan among ants, and the Crossroads will feel his absence.”

Quiet, then…

“Here, here,” Kiryu-chan said, hushed.

“Here, here!” yelled Majima-san, louder.

“A brave man. A hero. A champion,” Zayin added, his usually impassive face a painted example of mixed emotion. “The best of us.”

Nanaue just threw back his head and wailed, clutching his stomach, and the booming depth of his distress could wake the entire island. Whether he lamented the loss of a good meal, because he knew the team wouldn’t let him eat the corpse, or the loss of a good man, no one of them could say for sure. He howled and yowled his displeasure for the world to hear, and Coda shed a tear as well.

They gave him a heroes’ send-off in each of their own ways, then turned to leave.

Coda spared one last look over her shoulder.

“See you next time, Champ,” she whispered, giving him the ghost of a grin from behind her mask.

And when she turned away from his face, she would always remember that he was smiling: the easy, relaxed smile of a man who’d died a heroes’ death and walked away from the last arena to the echoing cheers of the universe, his fans, those who loved and would always love The Champ.
 
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