"Good morning, everyone." The Man in Red's voice was...highly subdued and restrained, compared to his normally jovial and energetic tone. "We've had some more losses during this last phase. Let's take a moment to reflect upon those, shall we?
#018 -- Blaidd the Half-Wolf
#015 -- Chaos Agent Rory
#019 -- Peter Pellbrook
Asura
I'm sure they will be missed. For the most part." A noise, somewhere between a cough and a clearing of the throat, sounds. "Well, regardless of that... Things are getting a bit messy down there on the island, hmm? Keep your wits about you, now. The following areas will become dead zones during the next phase:
All spaces remaining in row D
All spaces remaining in Column 11
All spaces remaining in Column 10
"And lastly...I mentioned something last phase. About a special something I had prepared for you all. Well..." The Man in Red snaps his fingers. Across the island, there is a static-like buzzing sound, and then one by one, every remaining competitor will hear their collars beep softly, as the lights on them blink out one by one. "I've disabled the suppression effects on your collars. You should find all your lost powers and abilities and tricks returning to you in short order, as your natural biology and powers re-assert themselves. Consider it a gift, for taking care of those three interloping party crashers."
"....and as a final treat for you all...I'm changing the rules." Here, his mirth returned, if only partially. "I've noticed that some of you seem to have made some lovely friends down there. It warms my shriveled little heart to see. Aaah...." He chuckled quietly. "To that end, I can't imagine you all would be willing to turn on and start murdering each other to claim ultimate victory. So if you want to avoid that...you and your group can come to F 7. I've prepared a special something that should let you settle things more easily."
"Happy hunting."
NPC Movement Updates
Kiryu & Majima regale their friends with a rousing, impromptu acapella karaoke session.
Bulletins and Updates
Weather -- The unnatural chill lessens somewhat, though the stifling stillness and lack of moving air remains constant. The day is lit as if the sun has risen, but there is only an omnipresent pale, watery glow coming from no specific direction.
Unmaking -- With any moderate elevation, the edges of the island can literally be seen crumbling and falling apart, quite literally disintegrating into the ocean. All remaining animals and (non-contestant) survivors on the island are either completely unmade, or driven into unmaking-related insanity and madness. Most of the remaining flora is similarly mutated and corrupted, leaving virtually nowhere remaining completely safe.
Rule Change -- As mentioned above, the suppression effects of the collars are now removed, and everyone will have full access to their various abilities and powers. This doesn't change the tracking or movement-monitoring effects of the collars in any way, mind you.
Hearing that day's announcements over the island's speakers had forced them to stop and reevaluate things, at first.
They had paused at the base of a very familiar mountain, ancient peaks of granite towering above them and a grassy plateau stretching out all around. Looking further up the mountain, they could just barely make out twisted trees clinging on desperately to the sheer stone by their roots, as if begging not to be pulled away by gravity. The rock face itself almost seemed to breathe, the shriveled, dead blades of the wild alpine grasses rippling even without a breeze to move them.
Coda sat on a rock speckled with scant traces of dewy lichens and moss, breathing in the crisp, cold mountain air. A bittersweet aroma of pine needles mixed together with the damp of rain-slick stones and muddy soil, all commingling together into a delightful earthy scent. But beneath it all was the oily, ever-present current of the Unmaking, its sickeningly treacle scent clinging to everything like a thick, dark syrup— dimming their surroundings and their spirits along with it.
Come to think of it... she hadn't seen hide nor tail of any wildlife recently. It made her uneasy to ponder just what that meant for too long, though, so she stubbornly didn't. Mind over matter, ho!
"Majima-san," she suddenly heard Kiryu speaking over her shoulder, and she turned juuuust slightly, peering at the pair out of the corner of her eye. "Stop that."
"Stop what, Kiryu-chaaaan?" came Majima's sing-song reply, his tone so very devious and shit-eating that little alarm bells immediately started ringing inside Coda's head. She remained resolutely turned away for the moment, though, ears pricked as she listened to the harried conversation behind her.
"That."
"That what?"
"Whatever you're doing with those rockets, it's dangerous. Stop it."
Oh. Well. THAT certainly didn't sound good. Coda frowned as her concern mounted to critical levels, twisting her body all the way around in her seat to look at whatever the hell Majima was up to, a sharp reprimand sitting on the tip of her tongue.
Crouching on the ground, Majima had some of the ammunition from Kiryu's rocket launcher lined up in front of him in a row, almost like he planned to play dominoes with them. He picked them up carefully between his fingers, inspecting them one by one, a rather disturbing sickle-shaped grin on his face.
Nanaue and Zayin sat on the ground nearby, expressions perfectly innocent and trusting, like a couple of preschoolers observing their Sunday school teacher setting up a lesson activity for the day. This, above all else, worried Coda enough for her to speak up.
Slipping from her seat, she walked over, planting her hands on her hips. "What are you up to, Majima-san?"
Eye widening, Majima glanced up at her, then hurried to snatch the rockets up between his fingers— far more deftly than Coda might have thought possible, considering.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo," he said quickly, tucking the explosive ammunition inside his jacket and flashing her a wolfish grin. "You'll see!"
That didn't reduce her apprehensiveness. In fact, it only served to increase it. Coda just… staaaaared at Majima for a loooooong moment, eyes narrowed to slits. What is this slippery fucker up to...?
"Ooookay," she said eventually, swiftly losing interest (and the will to press the point, really, mostly to preserve her own sanity). She turned to look at King Shark, instead, expression lightening into one of affectionate interest. "Say, Nanaue! Do you happen to still have that weird ball the lion man dropped? I might want to take another look."
Nanaue started, turning his face up to look at her. His big ol' head bobbed up and down in a nod, fearsome jaws slackening into a joyful expression reminiscent of a dog panting up at its master.
But he didn't move to bring the ball out of hiding. Coda blinked, head tipping to the side in confusion. She'd figured maybe he'd had it tucked into the back of his jorts or something, but that did not appear to be the case.
"Um, okay!" she said, anxious butterflies swimming in her stomach. "Where is it then, huh? Don't you wanna show me?"
The Shark King seemed to go very still, his big black eyes rolling over to white as he blinked. A slight sheepishness entered his demeanor as he moved one of his webbed-fingered hands up to noisily smack at his belly a few times, head nodding up and down like a metronome.
"Hungry," he informed her. Then, as if she needed further elaboration, opened his jaws and pointed straight down his gullet.
Coda's eyes widened, nearly boggling right out of her head. She glanced to the others, unable to articulate her feelings and dearly hoping for assistance, and found that they, too, were also rendered speechless.
"That's... that's great, Nanaue," she said at last, visibly sweating. "Very good! You keep it, erm, in there for safe-keeping."
Nanaue nodded, evidently satisfied.
Coda smiled at him shakily. Her eyes darted to Zayin, who returned her wide-eyed stare with equal panic. "Hey Zayin, can I talk to you for a sec? Toooootally not related to this. Like, at all. Completely coincidental."
"Sure," said Zayin, climbing to his feet.
The pair walked away a few paces, just out of earshot, and then stopped.
Coda looked at Zayin.
Zayin looked at Coda.
Neither knew just what to say, but Coda, being the younger of the pair and more emotional by far, made a valiant attempt.
"Oh my god," she burst out with, frantic tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, fuck. Do you think he's going to get sick?! Shit, I don't have any veterinary experience, Zayin! What if we have to pump his stomach! What if—"
Stark lines of stress marring his face, Zayin lifted a hand to silence her. "He's a shark, Coda. He probably eats strange odds and ends all the time. I'm sure he'll be... a certain definition of fine."
Coda's shoulders slumped. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll be fine. It's just... he's like a little baby sometimes, aside from the whole... man-eating thing. I worry about him."
"I understand," said Zayin, though he seemed to cringe a little at the 'man-eating' part. Nonetheless, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But tensions are already high enough as it is. Don't catastrophize about things that may not even come to pass, alright?"
Sniffling, the young woman nodded. And after a moment of standing in a mutual, comforting silence, they both plodded back over to rejoin the others.
Kiryu and Majima stood watching the Shark King in mild interest, observing as he scrawled tic-tac-toe games into the mud with one enormous finger, seemingly content to amuse himself. Noticing Coda and Zayin's return, Kiryu dipped his head at them in greeting.
"His dentist is probably already making a fortune," he said, voice grave. "Imagine his proctologist bill when that thing comes out."
They all looked at Nanaue, silently contemplative.
They could hear things in the purple mist: nameless, shapeless things that moved quietly but not inaudibly. They were unease given form, vague things that threatened to lunge out of the darkness, and it was difficult to ignore them. Occasionally the sound of a snapping twig or a rustling of branches would seize the group’s attention while they traveled, so they moved in formation with Coda and Zayin at the vanguard, Majima and Kiryu on the flanks, and Nanaue bringing up the rear. Despite the island’s crumbling, the five’s morale soared.
Collars deactivated, they trekked along more confidently than they had previously. A certain inhibition falls onto a body when it isn’t allowed to be its natural self, and free from the shackles that bound them down, Team Thundersharks prowled unhindered. A woman with weird lizard eyes, two whackjobs in suits, a weapon given form, and a hulking shark man; each had been restored.
Nanaue was even more of a strong shark man than he’d been an hour previous, with his natural strength and endurance redoubled by the crown atop his head. His steps had weight, a Kingly weight, and his strides thumped against the ground in a way that had grown proprietary. He carried the Sword of Omens, long, sleek, and deadly sharp. The bitter cold of its steel was that of the chilly air around it.
Zayin’s walk morphed into a lope, confident and fearsome, with two blades pumping alongside him with each step. His face was muted strength and that of a justiciar; hungry, fierce, and proud. His wings stretched out languorously with an easy grace that befit their natural splendor.
Beside him, Coda strode cat-like. Her outfit, a tattered caricature of the company uniform, had come untucked. Blood, an ink-blot that had blossomed out from her abdomen, decorated her shirt above the hip, but it had dried since her fight with Godfrey. Her mask enhanced the poise of her step, and behind her shades the luminous eyes that burned in her skull had grown bright as spotlights. She toted the Sky Scorcher, which seemed to echo its own strength and aura, long and pointed with a curved tip.
Kiryu walked with a careless strength that belied the impassivity of his natural state. He was stone, immovable, unbreakable, undaunted. The rib injury that had plagued him since their first battle could not bend him into anything other than a pillar of force. He toted along a rocket launcher full of the promise of explosive devastation.
Majima shore up the other flank and walked with a limber and eccentric bounce. He smiled easily despite the brutality that had occurred around his undercarriage, because he had outlasted many a powerful contestant, and he knew that his effort had been a full one. A formidable one. Beneath his arm glimmered a disco ball, and man, was he itching to use that fucker.
Behind them moved the Unmaking, a rolling purple fog that reached out towards their backs with prising fingers of ichor, always moving, always wanting. The flora and fauna that had died away around them moved with the mist, always audible, but they ignored it, largely, with their sights set ahead. Their purpose lied ahead of them. As they wound their way towards the destination they could see and hear the island literally falling apart, and knew that things had escalated to the point of no return. As the night died away, chased by the light of the day, so too did any pretension of the island’s structural integrity. Chaos had been given form here, and they tried to stay a step ahead of it.
“Kiryu-chaaaan~” trilled Majima-san, calling across the gap to his steadfast companion. “What do you say we give them a bit of a show?”
He hefted up the disco ball.
Kiryu shifted his gaze to the Mad Dog of Shimano and nodded solemnly.
Then they began to sing while the group trekked on, hoofing it to whatever lied ahead.
MORTON'S FORK
#001 Coda Nitai, #002 Zayin, #007 King Shark, #011 Kiryu & Majima, #??? The Man in Red
The Thundersharks trekked resolutely onward. Down from the mountains, across the hills, through the swamps, and out into the plains. There, they beheld a sight that was...unexpected, to say the least.
A section of land, cleared of the Unmaking's influence by almost overwhelmingly violent means. Traces of fire still flickered at the edges, and some uncountable dozens of corpses and dying members of the Carnivale staff were left sprawled and laying about in various states of dismemberment and bodily harm. In the center of it all was...perhaps the most absurd part of it all.
One of the Carnivale's teleporters, set up next to a large bonfire, and around which were arrayed a number of comfortable-looking chairs. Standing, silhouetted against the flames, stood....the host of this entire affair, arms folded behind his back and his masked face turned to the sky overhead.
"Welcome, welcome," he murmured softly as the group drew near, a heavy uncertainty weighing down on them. "I had wondered who would be first to arrive here. How...fortuitous that it was you."
"Sir, uh...excuse me, but..." Coda sucked in a deep breath to steady herself before stepping forward. "What the fuck has been happening on this island?!"
Slowly, the Man in Red turned around to face his new guests. "Terrible things, miss Nitai. Very terrible things. Unexpected and unaccounted for, but not altogether undesirable."
"Not...undesirable?" this time it was Zayin's turn to bristle, stepping angrily forward. "How could any of this be desirable?!"
"What has happened here has served far better to illustrate my point than anything I could have intentionally prepared." The scarlet showman turned fully to face the assembled group, revealing the deep frown etched into his mask. "You've now seen firsthand just how dangerous and unpredictable this dark thing besetting the Crossroads is. How it can work its way in everywhere and anywhere, and how quickly, how violently and virulently, it spreads. How powerful it is." His eyes gleamed sharply. "And you have also seen that it can be beaten, even when so completely unprepared for it."
"That's the point of all this? There has to be some better way to go about--"
"No. There is not." The Man in Red's voice snapped, cold and humorlessly, like a whip crack. "I don't have the power to bend space and time to my whim with a wiggle of my fingers. I can't will things into existence, I can't perform miracles, I can't orchestrate things to perfectly go the way I want. I am just a man." He finally moved, spreading his arms out to either side. "I have to work with what I have. And sometimes, that necessitates very...messy means and strategies. My methods are bloody, violent, visceral, savage, cruel and merciless. But do you know why...why I go that far?"
He snapped his fingers, and abruptly the camera feeds on the island cut out entirely. The even was no longer live, no longer being broadcast or recorded. "Because I must. Because it makes people pay attention. It makes them remember. I could do my own independent studies, take my time and carefully research or discover things with the scientific method, safe and sound with minimal casualties in a laboratory environment. And then I could write the most detailed and profound observations about those findings." His gloved hands curled into fists. "And do you know what that would result in? Absolutely nothing."
He brought a hand up, sweeping his hat off and tossing it aside. "No one would pay attention to it. Even within the scientific community, it wouldn't catch on or amount to anything productive or helpful with any level of expedience. Or, more painfully, with any certainty at all. It might go forever unnoticed."
"But this...?" He turned in place, arms spread wide as he swept them about, gesturing grandly to what remained of the island. "This...is spectacle. This is bloody, violent, memorable and undeniable. People will notice this immediately. It will make my small little messages, my tiny little bits of help and advice to this little corner of the stars spread. It will do something, and it will do it now."
.....and then he sighed. "But none of you care about that. Do you?" his words were soft, quiet, and yet icy cold. "You care only about the suffering and distress you've been put through. That you bonded with, and then lost, a dear friend, foolish blowhard though he was." He lowered his face back to look, from one face to the next. "Let me clarify something for you, my dear little contestants....that is what makes this reality. That pain, that aching hole you all feel, right now, where Mister Satan once was? That makes this real. This isn't staged, this isn't a game; the Unmaking, and your choices in combatting it, took him from you. How many more out there do you suppose are experiencing that exact same feeling, that exact same magnitude of grief, every single waking moment?"
"And how much more profound, now, is your desire to do something about it, so you won't let your dear friend's sacrifice go unanswered? So that others out there don't have to keep suffering through it?"
"....hmph. Don't even bother to answer." He turned away again, pacing toward the teleporter. "I have a choice for you all to make, now, as I promised. None of you will want to fight each other, of that much I'm sure. Your bond is frustratingly sincere. But quite simply...I don't care. In spite of its message, this contest must still abide by its own rules. One survivor, one winner." He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers again. Instantly, the camera feeds flickered and buzzed back to life, broadcasting the event for all the worlds to see again.
"So then, team Thundersharks! Miss Coda Nitai! Zayin, Angel of Challenge! Nanaue, King of Sharks! Kiryu Kazama, the Dragon of Dojima and Goro Majima, the Mad Dog of Shimano!" The Man in Red whirled about, waving his hand with a flourish. And before the group, between them and the armchairs, there flickered into view with the telltale flash of a teleporter, a small table upon which rested two bowls of what looked like...candy?
"I respect your alliance. But rules are rules; and there can be only one winner for this game!" He turned his hand palm up. "So then...I present to you my choice: all but one of you, take a treat from the white bowl and eat it. It will induce an almost immediate, painless death within mere minutes. You may also, of course, opt to take one from the black bowl...and it will induce a murderous, hallucinatory rage and force you all to fight to the death." He chortled and cackled with sadistic, mocking mirth. "As long as I am here to watch you all, only one of you will be leaving this meeting alive." He gestured to the collection of chairs gathered around. "You are free to sit down, rest and think over your choice. But be warned...if you try and simply turn around and leave..." And he raised his hand threateningly, fingers poised to snap, and the red blinking warning lights on the collars started to chirp. "...I will set off your collars immediately."
His eyes sparkled icily behind his mask, as he slowly lowered his arm, and the beeping ceased. "So, then. What shall it be?"
Team Thundersharks, gird your loins and steel your resolve. You've been presented with an ugly choice to make. Think it over carefully.
"Forgive me, sir," snapped Coda coldly, tearing off her shades. Her eyes glinted, hard and steely, as she glared up at her employer. "But this… this isn't a choice that's very difficult for me to make. So sorry to disappoint."
Face expressionless, she walked over to Nanaue. She took his large hand and placed her own much smaller one inside his wide, broad palm. Looking up at him with a gentle smile, her eyes twinkled with a deep, enduring affection, the kind that not even imminent death could erase.
Delicately, she patted his big fingers. The smile slid from her face, growing sad, her eyes a bit dewy at the corners. Carefully, she slipped out of his grip and turned away, the Shark King watching her retreating back like a lost puppy...
Striding over to where the candies sat in their fancy little dishes, Coda plucked one from the white bowl. The young woman stared at it for a long moment, gaze unblinking, and then... shrugged a little, as if shaking off a chill.
She looked up, making deliberate eye contact with Majima, Kiryu and Zayin, the white candy dangling from her grip.
"I know what I'm doing," she said, her gaze sweeping across each and every one of them in turn, as if daring them to oppose her. "I cannot, and will not, harm my loved ones. Not for this, and not for anything. Nanaue doesn't even know what's going on here; I am not going to betray him, and I certainly won't betray you. We have fought our battles side by side; now, it's time we finish this together. You know what we have to do."
Coda stared at them, willing them to understand, the piece of candy clutched tightly in her sweaty palm. Her hand still hovered above the bowl, trembling faintly, as if torn by great indecision.
Her reptilian eyes locked with Zayin's own angelic gold ones, then with Nanaue's dark, beetle-black gaze. An almost imperceptible nod was exchanged between them, barely a twitch of their noses, but there all the same.
In a blink-and-you-miss-it smear of motion, Coda discarded the candy with a flick of her wrist. Her other hand still tightly gripped her sunglasses, which she promptly flung, sending them rocketing directly for the Man in Red’s masked visage.
Launching into motion, Coda's body vanished in a beige-black blur of smoke, the virulent after-image of her eyes flickering like a mirage in the air—
With a flourish like a solar flare, Zayin's wings erupted outward in a shining blaze of glory, his eyes burning with a passion for battle as he thrust his blades forward, a roared "I CHALLENGE YOU!" ringing out for all to hear—
Nanaue stood like a fierce warrior of legend, the Sword of Omens illuminating his figure with its cold, glittering light. His midnight eyes glowed with obstinacy as he smashed his foot against the ground with an earth-shattering quake, his ornate crown gracefully settling against his brow—
It. Was. On.
Coda, Zayin, and Nanaue have chosen to fight the Man in Red. Otherwise known as: FUCK IT WE BALL.
We hope the honorable Kiryu and Majima will be joining us for this very special privilege!
OPTION C
#001 Coda Nitai, #002 Zayin, #007 King Shark, #011 Kiryu & Majima, #??? The Man in Red
"....oi. Kiryu-chan," Majima grunted, slowly rolling his neck and eliciting more than a few pops. He twirled the disco ball on its chain, spinning it vertically in a lazy spiral.
"....yeah, Majima-san." Kiryu growled in response, cracking his knuckles and setting his posture firmly as he brought the rocket launcher up over his shoulder.
"We can't let things go out like this, you know?!" the Mad Dog barked, as he spat off to one side, pointing an accusing finger of his free hand at the Man in Red, an aura of dark purple flaring up around him. "You set this whole thing up to be some big spectacle, and then line us all up to go out with a whimper, chokin' on some fuckin poisoned candy?!"
"It just isn't right." Kiryu's empty fist clenched at his side, as his face hardened and a deep crimson aura flared to life about him. "Recruiting and coercing people to join is one thing...but making an ultimatum like this is an entirely new level of scum."
For his part, the Man in Red didn't so much as move a muscle, save to slightly bow his head so that his eyes were hidden from the angle. "So, then...that's how it's to be, is it?" he murmured. "You have chosen...to fight. Together."
The combined assault closed in on him, all set to pulverize him outright....
....and nothing happened. The blows just phased right through him as if meeting empty air, making his body waver and distort, flickering and crackling into a mess of hazy, red-washed static before reforming solidly into his shape.
And then he laughed. The same horrible, mirthless and bone-chillingly cold laugh that had emerged from him in his office, before the event started. As he lifted his head again, his eyes shone and sparkled with vicious, malicious glee, and his mask had returned to its trademark smile.
"How wonderful. How delightfully, charmingly, remarkably, naively wonderful." And he actually lifted his hands to applaud. "You're that set in your path...to stick together, out of some genuine bond, rather than just out of convenience to increase your odds in this game...splendid." His voice dropped, to nearly a whisper. "Truly, truly splendid..."
Then his image wavered again, as he regained his composure. "Very well, then...." And he lifted a hand up, his fingers poised to snap. "....you pass."
Snap.
His image winked out of existence entirely. The nearby bonfire roared up up ever brighter, casting aside the glom and mist and cold, and the teleporter whirred to life. Upon its surface flashed in....a fresh set of supplies, for the taking of the Thundersharks.
For many long hours, the duo has been walking the island. Five’s plan to escort his zombie right into the hands of some random schmuck hasn't been very successful. Even though he could hear explosions and other sounds of conflict in the near vicinity, Five is unable to pinpoint the exact location for his ‘zombie-eats-face’ plan to work. It is starting to get on his nerves.
It was right there and then the hitman decided to try out a new tactic, the ‘the-great-and wise-sit-down-wait-and-see-what-happens’ plan. On the other end of his self-crafted Ketch-all catch pole, Eddie is still just dragging his feet along. It still appears as if no one is home, his gaze wandering off into the distance. The once elegant poet, with whom he shared a drink before all of this madness started, now degenerated into a mindless waste of space.
“Well then Eddie, what do you think? Are there any more out there?”
The only response Five got was a lifeless gaze combined with something resembling a growl– “ hrmm.”
“You know, in some weird and twisted way, you remind me of Deloris. I mean, she wasn’t trying to eat me of course but in times like this, you remind me of her.”
Eddie turned around, shaking the chains attached to his restraining jacket.
“Don’t worry, you don’t look anything like her. I’m not interested.” Five joked as he did keep his ally at bay.
*beep beep*
“What the?!” The student got startled by the noise coming off of both collars. Though they were followed by a message to which Five listened intensely.
“There is fuckery afoot, I’m sure of it.” With disbelief dripping from his spoken words Five still wanted to give it a go. To do so he made sure Eddie was well restrained, locking the pole in between a few low-hanging branches.
With both fists clenched the agent gives it a go.
Blue energy engulfed his fists and Five disappeared from sight only to reappear a few meters away behind Eddie, “Yes! Eddie old friend, he did not lie to us. The restrictions are indeed lifted. We might still stand a chance after all.”
His excitement wasn’t matched by the undead, who in turn was still deep within his mind.
*sigh*
“Well come on then, let’s go and have a look if we can find you someone to eat. Maybe that will fix you up.”
Majima rustled around in the first crate they’d pried open, and his cycloptic eye opened wide. He froze in place and a shiver ran through him, visible for the rest to see, while his mouth spread into a grin cheek to cheek.
“I can’t believe it!”
He thrust his arm up into the air, clutching a glass bottle.
“Road soda!” he gasped, staring at it.
The light hit the glass just right and it cast a lens flare across his face. It illuminated his cheek in such a way as to show the rest of them just how happy he was: a single tear rode a blazing path down the Mad Dog’s cheek, streaking through the dirt. It left a glimmering trail in its wake. While he was usually a tough egg, and the rest of the group ignored the way that he’d grown to smell like a foot over the course of the three days they’d spent together, it was an emotional sight to see the way his lip quivered. Majima leaned close and pressed his face against the cold beer’s glass. He felt the condensation, and in that moment, he was a rockstar. They’d won. Moments before he’d felt like death was at the door, but now? …road soda.
“It’s…” he trailed off, and took a sharp inhale of breath. “I’ve never been so happy.”
Nanaue plunged past him. The nearby bonfire cast strange images of dark shadows licking against his bulk, and in that moment he seemed as massive as a ship, a tremendous vessel propelled by a force greater than him and that he could not control. He reached into the crate much the same as his comrade before him, and yanked something free. Something he could feel, and something that he had smelled from afar. He too held his prize aloft for the group to behold.
“Num-nums!” he declared, triumphant and powerful in that second.
He held aloft an entire raw chicken. He went to devour it, but the gentle rest of a palm on his considerable bicep stayed his hand.
“...over the fire, Nanaue,” Coda whispered. A warm smile played its way across her face, sad, wan, and bright all at the same time. “You’ve…no, we’ve earned it.”
The shark man paused, droll spooling from his eldritch maw in tendrils, but he gave a slow nod. Something had happened here. Even he knew it. Something special.
Zayin approached, and shoved aside the first crate which hadn’t been fully looted but had obviously contained a specific set of goods. There was more in there, to be sure, but his strategic mind had set itself to taking an inventory the way that a steward would set his mind to the books of his keep and there was a due diligence to be done that couldn’t be left another moment. Two more crates, two more systems of inventory, and in that moment he broke his mind into two parts. The Angel of Challenge, so ready to die moments before, was now ready to tally up the loot.
And so he did.
He set to it with a fervor, lifting item after item for the group to behold, setting it aside on the pallet-like surface of the first pried open crate, and then moving to the next with a single-minded swell of focus that might put Parnassus to shame. He was a rock, a solid thing to behold while so much else they’d transcended had been imperceptible, and even the King of Sharks was given pause to watch him at work.
When he’d finished, the group had yet to breathe a sigh of relief. Amongst them all there had been a single-minded unity to do and to die for one another, something yet unsaid that had driven them to push the odds, and cohesive in their goal they’d been as good as their will. When all was said and done, they hadn’t thought there would be a group to rejoice with.
And yet there was.
Having divvied up the supplies, they roasted the chicken.
The fire played over each of their faces, accentuating their wounds, brightening their smiles, and putting the lines in their face into sharp contrast. It flickered and licked out and even in the light of day it did much to put them into a different perspective. The more haggard of them grew younger in its light, while the less injured amongst them seemed spritely. It was a magical light to them.
Nanaue shoveled jerky into his mouth and sawed his way through it the way one might expect a garbage disposal to do what it does - dispose. That he had made it this far, three days in, and resisted the urge? Well, that was something special. Oh, but how he savored the jerky, and how he watched the chicken slowly rotating on a spit of Kiryu’s design. Out of all of them, maybe he had understood the least the risks of their endeavor, but he enjoyed the rewards to their fullest as if there were no tomorrow.
And maybe there wouldn’t be.
Majima-san shared the beer he’d won with Kiryu, and both savored it as if it were the finest thing they’d ever seen or tasted. When they’d finished it and as they divvied up the roast chicken, there were songs. Oh how there were songs! Kiryu and Majima led them, and all of the group joined in. Coda, despite the anxious feeling in her belly, and Zayin despite his lack of familiarity with the cultural phenomenon, and even Nanaue despite his lack of understanding…
They sang together. They shared food, morning, and water. If it had been night, they would’ve done the same. If it had been evening, nothing would’ve changed. In that moment they were The Thundersharks, hungry for life, full of heart, and companionship, and even indulgent while so many others went wanting.
They’d done something special. Every one of them right down to the dimmest of their folk knew it.
So for now, they rejoiced. They sang. They ate. Nanaue, at one point, went for the candy, but a harsh rebuke from Coda dissuaded the King, and he retreated to the safety of his companions.
Nearby, in sharp relief, the two bowls of candy stood. One white, one black, they spelled out the adversity the group had overcome. The firelight in the morning relief showed much and more, and it showed on their faces, tired but jubilant.
They could never overcome the Champs.
Coda looked up towards the sky, and she swore she could hear him. Actually hear him.
The Champs.
Somewhere overhead she saw him flashing his last thumbs up just as he’d done in his dying throes, and Coda smiled.
Mister Satan smiled over them from beyond it all, and Coda felt him there.
While the rest of the island was teeming with sensational strife and unceasing woe, the sadomasochist and the mechanized hive mind had skirted by most of the melodrama. Sure, the Unmaking continued being a nuisance, but since the profuse deterioration plagued everyone, it made no difference ultimately. For now, more urgent matters occupied the two.
“Vvrrrr~ I could cut diamonds with these.” The glacial inundation stimulated Lilith's erogenous zones, her rigid nubs protruding from the salacious decals adorning her chest. Extreme temperatures were one of few ways to arouse her hypersensitivity. “You're really missing out.”
“Our shell does not allow us to experience heat or cold as you do,” The Chorus responded plainly.
“Well that's too bad. If only you could, I dunno, hook up to me or something. My ports only transmit genetic data last I checked.” Lilith's storage in that area was comparable to the robot's memory banks. She could receive a high volume of input as well as produce output at exceedingly rapid rates. Alas, her components often went underutilized.
The Chorus remained silent at the notion.
“Y'know, you sound like my livestream messages. Maybe I should bring you to read them?”
“You have access to download our speech software.”
“That's not what I– okay, nevermind.” Lilith's irrational thoughts and the droid's logic could create an infinite energy machine with how much friction they generated. “Listen, that voice of yours? Not gonna cut it.”
“What do you find inadequate in our vocal function?” inquired The Chorus.
“The only thing you're gonna make people nervous about is losing their job. You need to put the fear of the robot uprising in the obsolete meatsacks. The future is paved in merciless steel and all-knowing algorithms!
. . .
Not that I believe any of that stuff. Just the vibe you should go for.” Her luscious and ridiculously ripped body reduced to circuitry? Preposterous.
“How do you advise we rectify this issue?” The droid sought a straight-to-the-point answer, but it didn't have a rude cog in its frame.
“Hm, do you have a settings panel or–” A rectangular compartment on The Chorus's forearm slid open. “Ah, I can work with this. I'll make ya sound like a mechanical nightmare in no time.”
After tinkering with the robot's pitch and timbre, Lilith crooned “Aaa~aand done.”
“We am uncertain of any improvements to our intimidation. However, we will trust your intuition.” The Chorus's synthesized audio now carried overt implications of menace and animosity.
“That's the spirit! Or whatever machines have. I'm an expert on this kinda stuff, just look at my outfit. Who wouldn't be scared of this?” The dominatrix swept a hand down her torso. How exactly eroticism equated to fright went unaccounted for.
“We will soon be approaching—”
“Woah, we're not committing a massacre, at least not yet. Stick with your dull, harmless voice until then.”
“Understood.”
With no more petty detours, the duo entered the last refuge from the competition. Neither were sure how long it would stand.
The sun rose upon the charred battlefield. Asura’s corpse had crumbled into ash and all that remained was the aftermath of his wrath. Save for Armstrong and Lauren not a single living thing had survived his presence. The grass had been reduced to ashy stubble. Trees dotted the landscape, black and twisted like used up matchsticks. Animal bones littered the ground, calcined by the intense heat and had turned brittle and black. Superman stood stock still. His body was covered in burns and his jaw was clearly dislocated. Were it not for the gentle pulse of Soul Edge one might have mistaken him for a statue.
“We did it,” Lauren said. She fell to the ground. Everything had become so damn heavy. She had stopped sweating, but she couldn’t tell if that was because the temperature had dropped or her body was simply out of moisture.
“Indeed,” Armstrong concurred. He did not bother to hide his injuries. It was far past the time for false bravado. He had been run ragged and it showed. He spoke again, “I have never faced a foe so powerful. It is a tragedy that our victory meant his untimely end.”
Lauren reached for her pack. The nylon bag crinkled as she rifled through it. The heat had melted holes in the synthetic material. The herbs that she had collected were withered and dried out from the heat as well. Even the water bottles had burst open as their contents had been turned to steam. She removed her cracked sunglasses and cast them aside. Her jacket had survived largely unscathed, but with how damned thirsty she was, warm was the last thing she wanted to be.
She stood up, taking slow strides towards the frozen Superman. His broken jaw hung limp and his eyes stared off blankly. Soul Edge’s eye, however, watched her approach. It stared, unblinking, at her. All that remained of Superman’s spirit was but a flicker. With Asura dead the blade became that much stronger. Lauren frowned. Left alone she figured it would only take another day or two for Soul Edge to completely consume the Man of Steel’s psyche. Breaking her control from there would be child’s play.
She looked back towards Armstrong. No doubt he’d insist on destroying Superman again. But she couldn’t help but feel frightened at the prospect. Armstrong was in no condition to fight and she was not a fighter. If they ran into another Asura then they’d be as good as dead without Superman’s help. They’d end up dead and without his physical body Superman’s soul would be devoured wholesale by the cursed weapon. She needed something to fortify him. Something to slow the demonblade down. Something shiny caught her eye and she looked down.
Asura had left behind a device. It was little more than a silver disc with eight points. Each point was set with a different colored sphere of energy. She reached down and picked it up. A surge of energy rushed into her body and her fatigue vanished. She trembled. This device carried a cosmic energy that she had never experienced. This was the power of divinity. And it was the exact sort of power she needed.
Without a word she thrust the reactor into Superman’s chest. The tattered “S” of his costume burned away as the device sunk into his flesh. The greasy scent of burning flesh stung Lauren’s nostrils and she stumbled back. She watched in terror as the Man of Steel thrashed about. An errant swing shattered a nearby boulder. Another one sliced a charred tree in half. He stumbled about, violently clawing at the spot where his skin ended and the Soul Edge began. For a moment Lauren was filled with hope. Then the weapon throbbed. Its pulse quickened. Whatever power she had given Superman was being leached away by the parasite.
“What have you done!?” Armstrong cried, pulling her away from the spasming monstrosity.
“I… I…” She stammered, “I was trying to help him… his body was falling apart.”
“This has gone too far Miss Abernathy!” He shouted, “You promised to bring his soul peace! And you couldn’t help but turn him into more of an abomination!”
“I haven’t forgotten my promise,” She said, her voice still trembling, “He needed the strength to keep fighting off the parasite.”
“Strength? He has plenty,” Armstrong boomed, “What he needs is to be put out of his misery and if you will not do it, Miss Abernathy, then I am afraid I cannot abide this shamefulness any longer.”
Lauren fell silent. Her eyes darted from Superman to Armstrong. Her brain ran a million miles a minute, but her mouth could only tremble. She had restored some measure of strength to the man’s spirit, but Soul Edge only grew that much stronger.
“Your silence is answer enough,” Armstrong muttered. He stepped away from her and began walking into the distance. He paused for a moment to pick up the ash-covered blitzball.
“Wait!” Lauren shouted, “Where are you going?”
“I’ve had enough of this farce,” He answered, not even bothering to look back at her, “My end is at hand and I would like it to be in a glorious display of martial prowess rather than supporting a gruesome display of unnatural cruelty.”
“Big Guy, wait,” She muttered, crawling after him, “You can’t leave me alone. We can still make it out of here!”
“You’ve made your choice, Lauren, and I have made mine. Goodbye.”
And with that Lauren watched him disappear into the distance. Her throat grew tight. She wanted to cry. Every fiber of her being wanted to weep. But, she couldn’t. Dehydration or exhaustion she couldn’t decide which kept her from bawling her eyes out, but it didn’t really matter. This was how every story ended for her - alone and ostracized. Necromancy was not a sociable profession. She knew this, but it did not stop the isolation from hurting. It did not stop the abandonment from cutting into her like a knife. There was not a single horror on this island that could rival the pain of a life spent alone.
Armstrong felt ashamed. Miss Abernathy’s fears were not without merit, the fear for one's survival made cowards of many a man who thought themselves tall. Her assessment of their chances without the monstrosity’s aid were likewise nearer to the truth than Armstrong would like to admit. The removal of the collar’s limits was a theatrical choice, that much was certain, but Armstrong’s body was nearing its limits. Alas that he could only properly display his talents when his strength had been so thoroughly spent. Without recourse, Lauren had acted as she felt was necessary to survive, and though the monstrous abomination she was seemingly intent upon creating horrified Armstrong thoroughly, it remained her best opportunity for survival on this accursed island. If things had been different, perhaps he would have found a way to better protect the woman, and she would not have been driven to such reprehensible acts of barbarity. Her failing rested on his shoulders as well, he could only hope that the young woman held true to her claims, now. That she truly did seek to put the twisted soul to some measure of rest, not merely to benefit from its vulgar strength.
He trudged his way slowly to the nearest overlook he could find. The very air on this island was turning foul now, noxious and clawing, providing precious little solace even as he made distance from monstrous devastation their last foe had scored upon the land. His pace was ponderous, but Armstrong was not in a hurry any longer. His resolve was set, his course certain.
As his lumbering steps crested the summit of the outcropping of rocky earth, Armstrong took a steadying breath, attempting to recollect himself. His muscles ached near to exhaustion, and each step brought noticeable pain as his injuries increasingly demanded attention. Armstrong shouldered the pain with a grim focus, using it to spur his fatigue away yet a bit longer. His closed eyes snapped open with intensity, and Armstrong punched both blackened hands together. The tell-tale sparks of Alchemy flared in the darkness of the night.
With a grunt he punched both fists downwards into the ground, the alchemical lightning racing outwards from him as the nearby ground began to mold and shift. It rose smoothly, realigning itself into the form he desired, no longer limited by the device about his neck. The shifting ground steadily coalesced into a towering statue of earth and stone, formed in Armstrong’s own likeness with meticulous detail as it struck one of his customary poses.
There would be no hiding now.
Armstrong turned away from the statue and crossed his arms, waiting to see which of the surviving competitors remained to accept his challenge.
Armstrong has made a big ol’ statute at F4, and will wait there for anyone interested in challenging him.
Flavor had a warm smile as she sewed, having already locked the door to make sure Lilith didn’t come in at an inopportune moment. Pretty though she may be, the urge for violent stabbies hadn’t really left either, and she wasn’t about to let the giant psychopath (in more ways than one) get a good peek at…
Herself. It was still strange.
At the start of all of this, Flavor had been 2 different people - one of which hadn’t looked anything like this to start off. The bromance had started from the get-go, but from all the battles they’d been in, one half of them had changed quite a lot. Granted, the Flak half really had had to, and as she continued to mend the clothing they’d torn, she realized Shinku (and how strange it was, knowing this name was hidden before, but she’d respect his wishes and keep it under wraps), simply had a lot less growing to do anyways. Not like you get much cooler than a well-trained veteran assassin of shadow. And what a life he’d lived! What a life they’d both lived!
Yet as she thought of the two, of how their friendship and bond had grown strong on the island, the fusion gave off a contented sigh. Thinking through your memories was kind of like what she figured thinking about how your parents got together was, minus the cooties and romance part. Still, platonic though her birth was, she felt it was a pretty well put-together story.
Her enthusiasm had already put off her companions, but that didn’t really matter. The real secret to The Princess of Flavor was that they existed for their own sake. The resolution of Flak and Trevor to see this through together, ‘till the very end.
Though as she thought of that, she felt a familiar beep, as her collar popped. And the island called out to them, all of the competitors on the island. It talked of friendship and powers and the unmade’s strength, and Flavor kinda-sorta-actually followed it with a jaunty humming.
It was unfortunate, how it all was on the island, and the Princess gave a sigh.
Friendship and all was nice, but there was the whole other problem she had. After all, Flak had a dragon to impress and now it fell to Flavor to impress that big lizard. Not to mention the whole thing with Lilith, and how Shinku was using this as a proving ground.
And the other nagging thought, the other feeling, the knowledge that as cool and swood and generally sweet Flavor was, all this introspection had reminded her that she was temporary, most likely. Either de-fused after the battle or dead during.
And that gave Flavor some pause. The princess, as powerful as she was, was just a temporary, if radical, addition to the world. Probably.
The Shadow General kicked her feet up, as she stared at a nearby, rotting double down. Like her, it was a thing of beauty, but left to it’s own devices, it would rot, untouched by anyone. Never to fulfill any purpose but to slowly decay as food for bugs and rodents that appreciated none of the genius - the clever fusion of ideas that was the meatwich left as worm-food by a group of people unable to eat.
Nah, not her thing.
She’d fight to the end and die if necessary. Either they’d do well enough that her parents would be back to fist-bump, die together happy as her, or…
Well, maybe they’d do well enough to keep being Flavor if they tried hard enough? It was possible.
“I am like two hours old, man, I should be thinking about gaga googoo and stuff.” Flavor complained, before stepping back up on her heels. ‘Though I’m also like 50 if I think about it. Or like… 20’s… do I average? Or do I add? Subtract? Is it a factor? Oh, do I add in the age of the fusion manual? Or, like, the history of the dance? Maybe I don’t even have an age! Or maybe I even what’s that in the camera feed lemme see!” the Fusion babbled, decisions made, but existential crisis already over.
As strange as it sounded for an entity who straddled a strange line between being a real creature and being a mere spiritual projection, Zayin felt ALIVE. He may not have had the chance to cut the Man in Red down, but the alternative they had been granted was just as good. He joined in the mirth just as hard as the rest of the group, handing out food and leading them in songs that sounded far more like tavern songs than the hymns they were expecting.
Soon, though, the party died down. The Thundersharks lulled into a more quiet peace as their excitement slowly faded into contentment and confidence. Their bond had been proven and their shot at victory was better than ever. And, as the cherry on top, he had his swords back!
Though he still held onto Godfrey’s mighty axe, reluctantly recognising that the Elden Lord’s weapon was far stronger than his own, that hadn’t stopped him from running free, swinging his blades like a kid with a new toy. The sensation he got from carrying the weapons in his hands rather than having them sealed inside his soul was how he imagined it must feel to get a breath of fresh air when you finally manage to reach the surface of the water.
“You look so excited, Zayin. I don’t think I’ve seen you so happy before.” Coda giggled as she watched him go. “Well, that’s not to say that you’ve been all mopey, but this is something else.”
“Hahaha! This is just pure freedom!” The living weapon said, laughing giddily as he twirled his swords and threw out a few practice swings. “I feel like I’m the whole arsenal right now! ...uh, sorry, angel expression.”
“I think I get the gist.” The Carnivale employee giggled quietly.
“Thanks, by the way.” Zayin said.
“Hmm? For what?”
“The way you stood up to your boss for us before. I know it must have been tough.” The angel said, giving his friend a radiant grin. “It really means a lot. I’d even call it heroic of you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Coda said humbly, waving him off. “The Man in Red loves drama. I’m sure it would have-“
“No no no.” The hero said, plunging his swords into the ground dramatically. “I saw that look in your eyes back there. That wasn’t a ‘oh this is all part of the plan’ look. That was a ‘time to put it all on the line’ look. That was a hero’s expression!”
“Hey, c’mon, not so loud.” She gasped, growing a little flustered as the incessant praise.
“What are you two going on about now?” Majima slurred as he stumbled over, reeking of ‘Road Soda’ as he put one arm over each of their shoulders.
“Coda is a hero!” Zayin chirped eagerly, receiving what should have been a gentle punch to the gut for his troubles. However, with her newly in repressed strength, Coda accidentally slugged the angel in his non-existent stomach, folding him over in an instant. “Blegh! Oof, a little rough around the edges, but a hero.”
“Oh my god, Zayin, I’m so sorry.” She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, both in shock and to suppress the little bit of giggling rising in her throat. Typically she wouldn’t have laughed at something like that, but seeing as he was laughing too, she felt a little better about it.
“Ha! Damn right she is.” The Mad Dog of Shimano grinned, either oblivious to or unconcerned by the body blow Zayin had just received. “She got me my Road Soda. She’s a hero in my book.”
Kiryu gave an affirming nod from the back, breaking into a rare smile, while Nanaue gave a happy laugh as he clapped his hands together and pointed at the red-faced woman.
