DGS3 -- Staging: The Prep Level

[The Man in Red]

On this level you can find numerous different types of training facilities. Standard gyms and physical fitness equipment, with classes even available to ensure some optimal training and sufficient adaptability to handle most any level of strength or performance. Private dojos where you can get in some last minute practice or brush up on your skills either by yourself, with a partner or sign up for classes with an instructor. They can offer assistance and courses in everything from combat to surviving out in the wilderness and abandoned areas. Lastly, there are several facilities containing computers which hold records of past events and games the Carnivale has put on, databanks and logs of common questions and concerns, and information on competitors, both past and (as they sign up) current so you can read up and study.

 

[John Connor]

Having no issues being alone now, the Roman Legatus, Vatallion walked toward the training room. Despite his focus being on the upcoming competition, he hadn't seen anyone yet and his initial feelings of irritation and anticipation usually followed him whenever war was imminent. The training room was very different from what he had at home for his troops to train in. In the training room there were several machines whose purpose he hadn't a clue about at the time.

In the background, he poked at the machine, which opened into some sort of light device that surrounded him.

Instead, he turned to the voice calling out several times, asking Vatallion to call out a simulation for him to select. Before hearing the voice call out back to him, the Roman grumbles to himself, wondering why what is going on is happening. "What is a simulation?" he yelled back at the voice, unable to comprehend it.

After several frustrating hours of poking and pushing buttons, the Roman was finally frustrated and reached a holo screen that appeared to be some sort of battle simulator. He had the option to choose one of his armies.

As soon as Vatallian discovered how to do this, he was standing in front of many British soldiers, just in holographic form. No Centurion Marius to stand by his side here in a fight. He was the only one who could survive. This was a true warrior's test.

Despite being virtual and without blood, this thing box felt like a real battle.

The screen asked, "Play again?" when the holo Britons fell.

The Roman Legutas would curse aloud in Latin if he knew what those words meant.

After he had turned his attention from the strange box with light spilling from it, he walked away to small black rounded weights on both sides. He grabbed one and lifted it a few times before letting words echo in his head.

 

[Ridley]

Flak was a very focused individual. he wasn't great at math, science, english, what have you, unless it was the sort of language he wanted to hear about. When it came to Maneuvering, he understood damn well how important favorable engagements were, could tell you about killboxes and Delaying actions and if pressed could probably describe the basics of a flying column. When it came to guns, he could tell you the difference and merits between an assault rifle and a carbine and how to properly clear a room with one - or clean one to prevent maintenance failure. And when it came to cuts of meat, he could tell you which piece of meat came from where on the average farm animal, though he might struggle with a deer or a bear.

And while he might not have been a genius in the math department, he could definitely tell you that his squat was around 664 lbs. his horizontal leg press was at a whopping 840 lbs, and his 100m dash record was a surprisingly snazzy 13 seconds.

So, of course, when it came to benching, he walked into the gym with a swagger like he owned the place. The machines inside seemed pretty damn familiar, along with the tables...

Though, the friggin' legionnaire in the midst of it all was pumping iron with some small weights, wearing clothes he'd seen in one of his school plays - well, higher quality thant those.

Come to think of it, he played the beefy barbarian in that one. seemed appropriate.

Though as Flak watched, the man seemed to nod to his smaller weights, and, with a curious expression, move to the bench press, seeming... confused? Flak narrowed his eyes.

"What, this your first time seeing a bench press or something?" Flak would ask, popping up behind the man.

"you press a bench here, then?" The man asked, Confused. DUde had a strange accent - sounded like a roman out of one of his old movies.

"Hey, you sound like a Roman out of one of my old movies. Like Gladiator or something?"

"I know not what this movie is, but you know of Rome? I am Vitallion, Legatus of Rome. And you are...?" The man frowned, looking him up and down.

"Name's Flak. CO of Black Hole-err... Wyvern now, I guess. Geez, this place is weird. C'mon. If you really are some ancient guy, We're gonna have to show ya how to use this. Bench press is dangerous if you're not being careful." Flak would add, sizing Vitallion up and down. "Here, lemme put some weight on the bar for ya. We'll start off light, and I'll show you the technique."

Vitallion would look surprised, but slowly nod. "so you are familiar with this 'bench pressing' exercise, then?"

"oh yeah, did it all the time back home. Listen, I'll spot ya for your reps, show you the right technique so you get the right gain - and don't get injured. Then, afterwards, I'll show you how to spot, and you'll do it for me! easy!" Flak would add, though Vitallion would seem confused.

"What are we spotting in this Pressing exercise?"

Flak shook his head. "no, see, spottin's what we call the man around to make sure everyone's safe. Bench pressing without a spotter's a good way to get pretty seriously injured. And I want everyone to be healthy so there's no excuses when I get to smashin' em." Flak added with a chuckle, as he got everything ready.

"I see. your manner is strange, Flak, but I'll admit, I am interested. Show me how to do this bench press."

"Sure thing, Italian!"

 

[John Connor]

If you're just getting started with bench pressing, it can be intimidating. Take, for example, a certain Roman Legatus who was just starting out.

This was at least Flak's area of expertise, right?

After taking a deep breath, Vetaillon set down the black weights and stared up above them. As this was the first time he was bench pressing on his own, he was hoping this strange man named Flak was going to know what he was doing and not kill him. When Vatallion had picked up one of the lightest weights and placed it on the bench, Flak had shown Vatallion how to move it on the bar and slide it down until it rested on his shoulders. Seeing Flak nod, he asked, "Are you ready?".

As Vatallion placed the bar down and grabbed the barbell, he felt the weight pressing against his chest, and slowly lifted the weight with assistance from the Black hole, no Wyrvn army man, Flak. In the beginning, he felt comfortable benchpressing with assistance. It took him hours, but he finally got comfortable at least on the second pull, but on the third pull, he was getting hot. His muscles ached and he felt like he had at least grown. It was hard for him to think about the situation he was facing at the moment since he was feeling emotionless. As he put on the armor, he could feel sweat dripping underneath him.

Once he had finished his season, he placed the weight back on the bar and let Flak repeat the process, except Flak could handle a lot more weight on the bench press.

Flak handed the Legatus a bottle of water and instructed him to drink it. As he walked up to the Legatus, sweat dripped from his armor. He felt great, but could only feel weak.

The Legatus took off his helmet again and drained his water bottle and sighed after hours of benchpressing. Then he realized how he was going to tell anyone that he used a benchpress with another man named Flak if he ever got home? Then he remembered being almost killed here by Commander Boudica's elephant.

Vatallion tried to think of an icebreaker himself yet failed. "Flak, have you ever been in charge of an army before?" he asked.

Flak looked up. "Of course, I did," he replied with a grin. "Why do you ask?"

My curiosity is piqued, I don't meet many Commanders experienced in weightlifting."

They stared at each other for a while. "How does it feel to hold your army on your shoulders and have them fight for you?"

 

[Shinku]

"We're here!," Darwin announced as the elevator doors opened to a huge room that contrasted the entrance hall's luxurious design with its utilitarian appearance. Plain white walls met his eyes this time, as he stepped into the area, that was populated with various weapons, several doors and training facilities, along with the presence of two training individuals.

"This is our prep level. As you can see, we've got several facilities here that can help you prepare for the upcoming game," Darwin explained, waving his hand across the training equipment and dojo rooms around the area.

"I see," Trevor replied in a neutral tone, his eyes immediately trained on the two strangers that seemed to be discussing the training exercise amongst themselves. Their varying outfits proved that they weren't any of the staff that manned the foreign building. Moreover, their physique qualified them more as physical combatants, giving a hint that they could be participants of the death game as well.

"You can also try discussing with your fellow participants over there. This game also encourages errr...some sort of cooperation," the staff whispered, leaning closer to the assassin's ear.

"I'll keep that in mind. And I thank you for the assistance Darwin. I think I can go from here," he bowed, offering a courteous gesture to dismiss the staff.

"Very well. Also, we have trainers here that can assist you for the next few days. And just in case you need any other assistance, you can always contact as in the lobby. Have a nice day Mr. O'Skully!," Darwin briefed before bidding goodbye and walking back to the elevator.

Trevor, on the other hand, scanned his eyes across the room, deciding on what to do first. Darwin's advice to mingle with his fellow participants sounded wise, but they both seemed to be already busy with their own discussion. Training a new weapon might also be a tempting option, especially knowing that he'd be given a random weapon once again, but he could also try meditating in a dojo to improve his inner faculties. A plethora of choices appeared before his thoughts, pinning Shinku in the same spot longer than he intended.

 

[Ridley]

Flak just gaped, as the roman warrior walked away from him. He didn’t know how to answer such a profound question, as sweat poured from every orifice.

It wasn’t due to some profound spiritual awakening, strange ideas on the morality of what he did, or the feeling of responsibility as Wyvern’s Chief ground forces commander that caused Flak this agony.

No, it was the memories of watching Gladiator, and spartacus, and from what he remembered, Rome had, like, thousands of dudes, a bunch of horses, and some heavy gear.

Which meant that, if Vitalien really had held all of that on his shoulders, he was Definitely sandbagging on the bench press. Flak was utterly terrified at the idea that he might actually have to face the older warrior’s strength.

“...Gotta be a bluff…” Flak mutters to himself after a moment, re-adjusting his helmet as he looked around, “How’d he even fit all of them on his shoulders…?”

“Oh, hey… you the like, spotter for the gym?” A brusque voice asked, looking him up and down.

Flak blinked, and stared down towards his chest, seeing… a pretty damn impressive specimen. Big man, though not as big as Flak, covered in muscle. He was wearing a white cape hiding some kinda karate gi, and his facial hair was… outrageous. The biggest handle-bar muscle he’d seen, combined with an Afro Bigger than his pecs - pecs he proceeded to show off like a parrot puffing itself out.

“Wha? Nah, man, I’m one of the guys here for this death-game… thing.” Flak volunteered with a grin, stepping out of the way. “I just finished spotting for the caveman, so If I’m gonna keep being over here, I’m taking the turn. Man hogged the thing for like, hours.”

The other man simply wiped a hand across his moustache. “What? You’re here to participate in the tournament? My man, I can respect the physique, but you don’t seem like the type that’s going to last here. Why, You look like you barely know how to throw a punch!”

Flak blinked. “Hey! I know how to throw a punch! It’s the kicks that are hard!” He added, gritting his teeth. “Who do you think you are?”

The proud champion gave a grin. “Why, I’m only the strongest martial artist in all the crossroads…”

Throwing off his white cape with a grin, the man introduced himself with a flourish, jumping high in the air, before showing off a barrage of blows… punches so fast Flak couldn’t even see them.

“Misterrrr Sataaaan!” The man cried out, throwing a grin over to the shocked giant.

“...Awright, I admit ya might… know a few more moves than me. I ain’t heard of ya before though.”

“Do you just pay no attention to martial arts? Or are you more the type for football?” The afro-clad man asked with a frown.

“Listen, Jerk, I just got here! Crossroads is new stuff to me! And before that I only had like an hour of TV between being a general and workin’ out!”

Mr. Satan looked a bit sympathetic to that, “Oh, new arrival? Well, if that’s the case, I might be bein’ too hard on you. Sorry.”

Flak’s growl stayed on his face for a second, before disappearing after a moment,

“Not like we’re not going to be ripping eachother apart in the ring. My name’s Flak. Black hole General.”

The other man’s eyes seemed to dart from the helmet to the eyes. “...Mmmmilitary. Right. So you’re… leading the army of these black hole guys?”

Flak raised an eyebrow, before realizing his mistake. “Oh. Sorry. Former black hole General. Hard to forget the old job, heh.”

Mister Satan apparently thought that was super funny, because he laughed super hard. “Ha ha ha! He he! Right! No problem, then. Here I was worried you had like-”

Flak Gave a laugh along with, “-Yeah, I’m the Commander for WYVERN’s Land forces, now!”

Mister Satan stopped laughing at the statement, which Flak felt made a lot of sense. WYVERN wasn’t really all that funny, he figured. No one was willing to crack a joke.

“WYVERN? L… like the space raiders? With the big dragon?” Mr. Satan asked, as Flak nodded,

“Yeah, but like, I’m trying to get a workout here. If you spot me I’ll spot you, but if you’re not going to help me I’ll just use another machine, man!”

“Errr… sure, I would be delighted to be spotting you. It would be great if we became great friends!” The Martial artist replied, rubbing his hands together.

“Maybe show me some of those cool martial arts later? I gotta admit them punches are fancy”

“Well, we’ll see, though I’m really only going to have a little time to exercise here.”

Flak just gave a nod, adjusting his helmet before taking off his shirt. “Huh. Well, you seem like a pretty good guy, Satan. I hope we smash each other last in this weird Free-for-all thing!”

“Err… I hope so, too. Is Flak your first or last name?” Satan asked, looking like he was a little uncomfortable with the situation. Flak hoped he hadn’t also had to wait for hours to get on the friggin barbell machine, and wondered if he’d been hogging the machine together with the Rome man.”

“Only! And, uhh… Don’t worry. I’ll get my reps in and pass my turn pretty quick here. I’m not enough of a monster to just hog the gym equipment!”

 

[John Connor]

If you are like most ancient dwelling cavemen who have only picked up a sword, spear or lance in your life, you don't know what you are missing. Shooting is one of the oldest sports in the world.

Vallation was staring at a blank box wondering what those black things were on the television people were holding. He knew about spears, arrows and swords but didn't know one thing about guns.

So he realized that anywhere he wanted, he could go there. No Emperor to command him, no wars to fight or otherwise. So, in his boredom and curiosity, he'd decided to check out the local "range of shooting". The place was empty except for a man with some sort of headphones on fiddling with some guns in a case behind a table.

The man had some sort of "safety glasses on" and appeared as if he was listening to music. The Legutus touched him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention lightly. The man couldn't hear him at first but when he did, the man frowned. He quickly took off his headphones, and put the unloaded gun down, pushing out the table and revealing all the top-of-the-line weapons there were now.

The man slightly looked irritated because he wasn't expecting to be interrupted by what he was doing. The man eyed him "Well, what do you want? He asked in a gruff voice.

The General Commander sighed; out of all the things he's seen today nothing was interesting to learn except for this. So far he'd learned light poured out of boxes with strange moving pictures playing every second, these came in small boxes and a box had music coming out of it to sing to. What is with certain boxes?

Anyways back to the whole gun range.

"You want to learn how to use a gun?" He blinked, raising a gun to look it over. He eyed Vatallion's armor and frowned "Military of some kind? I'm guessing. Surprised you never held one before."

"Alright, I'll bite. Since you're a contestant, anything here is free for you to try."

"So, since you are a newbie, what do you want to try?"

The man explains as he looks around for a handgun "Let's start with this." The General Commander was confused, and he asked "What's a handgun"

The man eyes him "A handgun shoots bullets when you pull the trigger."

This was going to be a long first lesson.

After a few rounds with the handgun, the commander feels his hand getting tired, so he decides to switch to a shotgun instead. The shotgun worked better than the handgun, but it was harder to shoot accurately. Also, the shells needed to reload were bigger than the handgun.

"Not bad for a beginner, stranger." The man said while showing another gun to the General Commander. "It's the M4 Assault rifle."

 

[Zayin]

As the ragtag trio came out into the preparation area, Zayin glanced around the place, taking it all in. He hadn’t really known what to expect from the place, but it looked nothing like any training ground he had ever seen. Nanaue seemed similarly dumbfounded, though that was kind of his natural state of being. As the member of the group who was familiar with modern training facilities at all, most of all these ones, Coda took the lead by giving her companions a well-rehearsed tour of the preparation area.

“First we have the gym section, where we have all of the best equipment for doing whatever exercise you like, really.” She said, gesturing to the assortment of weights and machines that could be found in the area.

“Strong.” Nanaue grunted, pointing a stubby finger into his own chest. “Lots exercise.”

“I… I believe you, big guy.” The angel agreed, looking up at the shark man towering above him, wondering how much iron a human would have to pump to get to his size.

“Next we have a number of dojos where you can practice on your own, with your friends, or with a professional instructor. Free of charge for any Death Game participants, naturally.” The greeter said cheerily. This particularly caught Zayin’s attention. He may not have been particularly familiar with the exercise equipment, especially the machines, but this was something the living weapon understood intimately.

“And finally we have the record-keeping facilities. Here we keep information of past events, FAQs, and the profiles of both past and current contestants.”

“Like on your…?” Zayin said, trailing off while gesturing at Coda’s tablet.

“Yes, exactly!” She grinned. “So, what interests you guys?”

“Those… what did you call them? Dojos? They sound pretty interesting.” The hero said, rubbing his hands together lightly. “Do they provide weapons?”

“Just training stuff, nothing you can kill someone with, but yeah.” Coda nodded before breaking into a cheeky grin. “If you’re planning on causing any trouble, you’d better cut it out.”

“Har-har.” Zayin grinned, masking his reluctant amusement with fake laughter. “How about you Nanaue? Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes.” King Shark agreed before breaking into a wide grin. “No need weapons.”

For the second time in less than five minutes, the hero was forced to look up at the much larger shark man and nod, acknowledging the vast physical difference between the two. Everyone agreed, the trio headed towards one of the dojos and closed the door behind them.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here…” Zayin tutted to himself, clicking his tongue as he approached a wall of weapons, glancing over the selection on show. After a moment of looking, though, the choice was obvious. Taking up a pair of longswords, the angel gave them an experimental swing, elegantly flourishing the blades.

“Oh, so you’re a sword guy, huh?” Coda asked. The swordsman glanced over from the rack, seeing that his companion was interested in an array of weapons that were completely unfamiliar to him. Behind her, Nanaue seemed to be mesmerized by his own reflection in a particularly well-polished shield.

“You have no idea.” Zayin smiled to himself, enjoying his own private joke. His smile was short-lived, though, as he gave the blades another couple of swings. They were well-sized and weighted for his tastes, certainly, but there was something off. Many swordsmen considered their weapons to be a part of them, but this was uniquely true for the living weapon, his soul bound blades literally being his body. As such, the fact that he was now wielding swords which he had no such connection with felt… deeply uncomfortable. It was like he was looking at a mannequin where there should have been a real person.

“You alright?” Coda asked, having picked out a weapon of her own.

“Hrmm?” Zayin mumbled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good. You guys ready?”


“Ready.” Coda confirmed before turning to King Shark. “This is just a pretend fight, ok?”

“Yes.” The sharkman agreed, nodding vigorously, or as vigorously as he could have with his tree trunk of a neck. “No hurt friends!”

His smaller companions gave him affirming smiles as the trio each took their place evenly spaced around the room, weapons (or lack thereof in Nanaue’s case) at the ready. The hero couldn’t let himself being denied his angelic swords get to him. He was no less a warrior without them.

Tension was heavy in the air between the trio as they waited for the others to make the first move. After a few moments that felt like an eternity each, this first move was taken by Zayin… in the form of him raising a hand.

“Actually, sorry, before we fight, there’s something I need to do. Call it a pre-fight ritual, I suppose.” He said, a little embarrassed. The other two glanced at each other curiously but gave him an affirming nod. Grinning, the hero spread his wings wide, the light in his eyes flaring brilliantly as he pointed a blade at each of them.

“Thanks for indulging me you two, I appreciate it. Now, Coda, Nanaue… I CHALLENGE YOU!”

 

[Arthur Morgan]

The tatami mat floor crinkled under Coda's shoes as she adjusted her stance, feet instinctively seeking more traction against the ground. Dropping into a feline crouch, she quickly scanned her environment, heart pounding a frenzied beat inside her chest.

Paying homage to quasi-traditional Japanese architecture, the dojo itself was constructed with a low ceiling and exposed wooden beams. Apart from a few decorations, the room was sparsely furnished, utterly spartan in terms of ornamentation. Scrolls depicting mythical battles were hung upon the paper shoji walls, and an array of weapons— ranging from jagged daggers to heavy, spine-breaking broadswords —were hung on the rack near the back of the room. Still, while perfectly lovely, none of it was of any help to her at the moment!

Zayin began to pace forward, his stride slow and measured, clearly at ease. Coda mirrored his steps, her eyes flicking to the twin swords clutched in his grasp, the razor-edged blades glinting menacingly even under the softened lighting of the dojo.

He was obviously experienced with them. Reading his roster had told her as much. Still, it was an entirely different animal witnessing him in action in the flesh. This could be important intel for the challenge ahead, indeed...

Coda adjusted her grip on her own choice of weaponry— a pair of dummy handguns, nothing but orange plastic loaded with soft cotton darts. Her palms were slick with sweat already, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickling up at the Angel of Challenge's approach.

She wanted— no, needed to climb to some sort of high ground, to get out of reach of Zayin and his swords. Yes, that was a good strategy to start with. She could attempt to scale the weapon rack, but that risked the whole thing toppling over and crushing her. Where could she even—

Eyes widening, Coda's gaze turned to Nanaue, who had yet to move much at all, really, seemingly content to simply... watch Zayin's deliberately choreographed movements, his maw hanging slack and dark eyes fixed upon the angel's flourished wings. Funny, she had expected the shark man to immediately rush in for the kill, so to speak, all power with little finesse. Her mistake for assuming, it seemed.

A sly smile tugged at Coda's lips, turning up the corners of her mouth. As it so happened, though, King Shark's lack of movement worked… exactly in her favor.

Exploding into movement, Coda made a mad dash for Nanaue, her footsteps thundering across the mat as she ran. Moving just as quickly, Zayin tried to catch her, the breeze of his swords slicing through the air just inches from her heels— but it was too late! Coda sprung from the floor in a graceful pirouette, launching herself at the Shark King with reckless abandon!

Blonde strands of hair flying every which way and her beige overcoat billowing behind her like a superhero’s cape, Coda landed in a crouch upon Nanaue's back, deftly planting her feet squarely atop each of his broad shoulders.

Perch now secured, her hands rested on either side of the shark man's big head, still tightly gripping her handguns. And their barrels were pointed straight at Zayin.

"Charge, Nanaue!" yelled Coda, a feral grin splitting her face and an equally fierce gleam of gold-orange glimmering behind her shades. "Get him! Get his ass!!!"

 

[Sandor Clegane]

Erupting forth, Nanaue shook the floor with his heavy footfall as he closed the gap to his angelic opponent. Black eyes vacant, muscles taut, he lowered his shoulder like a linebacker and plowed forth blindly.

To his credit, Zayin saw it coming a mile away and danced around Nanaue’s orbit. His black hair caught the wind while he stepped into the sharkman’s blindspot, body lithe and supple as a whip, and swung both blades together in a horizontal slash at his wide grey ribs.

They connected, and Nanaue didn’t budge.

Instead, he turned around to face his new friend directly.

“Now get him!” Coda shouted. “Get him now, Nanaue!”

“Get him,” echoed back the King of Sharks, as if deep in a trance.

He put an entire hand around both of Zayin’s wrists, who seemed too stunned to react. Too late, he looked up at his shark friend and started to mouth a protest but Nanaue was in motion, and they say an object in motion stays in motion. He lifted the angel up off of his feet without any visible effort, which prompted even Coda to grow concerned.

“Nanaue!” she shouted, frantic. “Nanaue, we’re not trying to hurt our friends, we’re trying to-”

He brought his arm up and around in a parabola, twisting, and slapped him down on the floor on the opposite side. A rush of air escaped Zayin’s lips, then Nanaue lifted him back up to get a closer look. The angel dangled, arms up like a prisoner. His face was dazed and surprised, which made the Shark King smile.

“Friend smack,” he stated, then freed a laugh that came out in three loud booms.

Coda smacked against the back of his neck and shoulders in a desperate attempt to get his attention.

“Drop him, Nanaue! Right now!”

His gills flaring, Nanaue let go of Zayin and breathed a huff of frustration. The swordsman landed on his feet, looking ready, with both swords poised to strike at a moment’s notice. His jaw clenched so tightly that the veins on his neck stood out.

“Get him!” Nanaue repeated back to Coda, visibly flustered.

He threw his hands up into the air, roared an angry roar, then sat all the way down on the floor. That didn’t loosen Zayin up, who shifted back a step even as Coda slid down the shark’s neck to take her place at his side. The Carnivale employee, looking professional, placed a hand on Nanaue’s shoulder and gave him a look that was hidden by the veil of her shades.

“It’s okay, Nanaue,” she explained, soothing the enormous grey mass with a touch. His frame rose and fell with his breath beneath her hand. “It was just a game. We don’t need to get angry about it.”

Zayin looked from the blonde woman to the shark monstrosity, frowning, with his swords still poised and his wings splayed out ominously.

“Are we…are we still doing this?”

If the smack had taken any of the fight out of him, he didn’t show it. It might’ve startled the Angel
of Challenge for a moment, but he looked revved up. If anything he might’ve looked fiercer than he was before it had all gone down.

The three of them looked at each other, exchanging uncomfortable glances, then Nanaue stood up next to Coda, dwarfing her with his height and width, and turned to face Zayin.

“Still doing this,” he confirmed, cracking one massive set of knuckles into his other hand.

His enormous mouth widened in a smile, and he made himself even broader if that was possible.

Coda stepped around him and paced out a few steps, looking thoughtful. Nanaue looked from her to Zayin, stomping on the floor for emphasis, then threw back his head and let out a roar that came from all the way in his belly. It was so loud, in fact, that it shook the wooden windows.

“...alright,” Zayin confirmed, smirking. “I’ll get you back for that one.”

 

[Ridley]

Flak had to admit - this Mister Satan guy was actually pretty cool! As it turned out, Flak tended to be a fair bit ahead of the little guy in the lifting department, but keeping up with the Martial artist tended to be a bit more difficult on the track, where he ate dust. Flak would have minded, but they’d gotten chatty as the time had gone on, and as they’d kept discussing things, he found he actually quite liked the champion. They’d kept chatting, as the two actually had a fair amount of gym and fitness knowledge to knock back and forth. Mister Satan had less to add when it came to war stories, but he wassuper respectful whenever Flak told one!

“...And that’s how I got the battleship into the lake! Pretty cool, right?”

“I Didn’t follow any of-Cough, cough, I mean, yeah, that makes perfect sense to me, General Flak!” Satan replied with a sweaty grin. Flak guessed it was ‘cause of how hard they’d just trained, but he seemed to be just making buckets of the stuff sometimes here.

“Doh, thanks bud. Don’t gotta call me a general though. Technically, Ridley’s saying I’m just a Lord again - has the same sorta love of that idea as my old boss, really - but you and me? We’re buds. Just Call me Flak!” The giant offered, adjusting his goggles as they walked away from the exercise machines - the giant turning to give Mister Satan his award-winning smile and ending up running straight into a bunch of dense muscle.

“Ope. Sorry dude. Little too short for my sight range. What’s up there…”

Flak looked down at the short obstruction he hit - but what the dude lacked in height he more than made up for in muscle, the Islander-looking guy covered from head to toe in muscles and tattoos.

“Woah. Never seen a dude your height that ripped before. Anyway, hi, I’m Flak.”

“Call me Trez.” The man replied with a pretty neutral tone. “I take it you and him-” He gestured to mister Satan, “are both contestants?”

“Also Buds. That's Mister Satan. He does martial arts tournaments and whatnot. Worlds champion! Was actually thinking about giving him a little like, pow-wow in the ring. Do a cool spar. Look good for the cameras. Plus, I’ve always wanted to learn the like, Karate kick.” Flak replied with a grin, putting himself on one leg as he adopted that one pose from the Karate kid where the kid does the goose punt or whatever it was called.

Flak didn’t actually know the goose punt, though, so this mainly resulted in him falling straight backwards in front of both of his fellow contestants, as a loud metal “dong!” resounded across the hall once helmet met Ground.

“Erf… both of you… didn’t see nothin’...” Flak grunted, pulling himself up to a sitting position and just electing to… stay there, for a little while.

Mister Satan held up his hands. “Listen, we don’t need to do any sparring. It might strain our muscles…”

Shinku perked up at that. “I was actually looking to train myself. Would both of you like to…”

Flak gave a grin at that, Pushing himself back up onto his feet. “Great. The three of us can go and learn some Karate arts. The power of Karate chopping!” Flak volunteered with a grin, putting his arms chummily around the other two.

“Er… yeah, Flak. Of course.” Mister Satan responded, giving a nervous grin. Flak raised an eyebrow, wondering what was up with the man’s sudden nervousness.

Then it hit him. Here he was annoyed at being left hanging at the exercise machine, and he was doing the same damn thing to Mister Satan! Well, no more of that. Being a bad guy didn’t mean he needed to be any less of a good friend!

“Hey Satan, don’t worry! Once we’re done at the Dojo, why don’t I Show ya how to treat a gun! Should get ya all prepared for what’s coming up ahead. We’ll make it a contest! Loser treats the winner to food at the restaurant! Which is free! Ha-ha!”


Mister Satan just gave a nervous chuckle, as Shinku looked to the two. “If you wish to train, I suppose I’ll come along. It seems like we don’t have much time left, and I’d like to sharpen my skills. We aren’t the only competitors, after all.”

Flak raised his arms to the sky, sending the straps of his helmet flying up in the air.

Mr. Satan did look to him, “by the way, Flak… mind removing your helmet for the spar?”

Flak shook his head. “No can do, Man. Helmet always stays on.”

Mr. Satan raised an eyebrow. “Is it like… special to you or whatever?”

Flak went and nodded, “Back in boot camp, my instructor told me this helmet is the difference between life and death. So, y’know, I figure if I never take it off, I’ll never die! Haw!”

Mister Satan looked back to Flak with a funny face, like he’d gotten sick or something.

“Hey, did’ja get sick or something?”

“Oh, n… no. Just… never mind.”

 

[Shinku]

"Well, good 'cause you'll be teaching us those champion moves yours!," Flak followed up, while throwing some punches in the air. "Now we better find us a suitable place," the giant soldier continued, as he proceeded to scan the place for a potential training venue.

"I...think it's better to just do the sparring. You know...the three of us just...testing our punches?," Mister Satan chuckled nervously, suddenly feeling the need to rub the back of his head.

"Oh come'on man. Don't be too stingy. I know training under a champion like yourself costs a lot but, you know, for the sake of camaraderie," Flak grinned, throwing his arms on both his companion's shoulders, bringing them closer.

Trevor simply nodded in agreement, taking the chance to earn himself some allies. Provided that they won't be separated like the survival game, having such brutes with him would be far more convenient given his own set of skills.

"See, even the short guy agrees! Oh hey! Open door!," Flak suddenly exclaimed, eyeing an open dojo room, before Mister Satan could even compose his reply. "Let's go guys!," he yelled as he whisked towards the room.

Trevor followed closely, with the afro guy lagging behind in hesitation. He wasn't sure if he'd follow the two, but knowing that the soldier would just drag him anyway, Mister Satan thought of no other choice but to tag along.

As Flak approached the dojo, he was greeted by an old man of shorter stature, garbed in a full white karate gi suit, accented by a black, silken belt. "Welcome to my humble dojo most honorable sirs. I would be honored to teach you the way of the iron fist if you may," the man offered with a faint smile, politely bowing at the trio who was just recently completed with the arrival of Mister Satan.

"Nah! We're good man! We already have a champion here to teach us," Flak replied quickly, dismissing the old martial artist's offer and pointing his hand towards Satan. "We just need to use your dojo if that's ok," Flak added with a friendly grin.

The elderly master paused for a while, eyeing the afro guy that stood just beside Trevor.

"Ah come on now Flak. We martial artists have our pride, especially when it comes to our dojo. We can't just waltz in and take over this honorable master's place," Satan began to speak boldly with a wide grin, shuffling beside the old man.

"It's fine. You may make use of this humble dojo," the old man replied calmly, gently tapping Mister Satan by his shoulder.

"Haha! See he definitely recognize your greatness! I bet this one even wants to learn a thing or two from you!," Flak chuckled, clapping his hand at Satan's back. It hit hard, causing the afro guy to flinch in pain, one that the latter was able to impressively conceal.

"True, I'm quite curious as to what this 'champion' of yours can teach. But I'm afraid I'd have to leave this place to you. After all, I'm a mere staff employed to assist contestants like yourselves. If you don't require my assistance, however, allow me to simply bid you the 'best of luck' on your chosen path of training," the old man greeted graciously, as he let off a light sigh before turning to leave.

"Errr...I think it's...," Satan reached out to the departing old man but was forcibly dragged by Flak inside the dojo.

"Ah! If you all could kindly remove your shoes before entering. Thank you," the old man called out, craning back over his shoulder to see the trio.

"Sure thing bro!," Flak yelled out, removing his black boots and throwing them out, doing the same for Satan.

With that, the old man turned once again and continued to depart the place.

"Come on now bro! We can't wait to start the training!," Flak cried out excitedly, as he stepped inside the wide training mat.

Trevor immediately followed suit, gently closing the door behind before joining Flak and Satan in the center of the room. The walls were painted with traditional japanese windows and sliding doors, accented with a window view of an autumn-blooming Cherry Tree. The room itself was spacious enough to perhaps hold at least fifty people for training. The floor was cedar brown, carpeted over by black training mats, placed together to form a large square stage, while the ceiling is spotless white, sporting a pure blank space above.

"So what do we start with? Do you teach us about our stance?," Flak continued his endless speech, cycling across a few military stances he knew.

Satan could only smile in nervousness, while Flak is still caught up in his own world. Trevor, on the other hand, continued to observe in silence, hiding his awareness of the afro guy's anxiety. This guy doesn't exactly exude a warrior's aura as opposed to Flak, but Trevor knew by experience how most experienced fighters could hide their true strength. And without Orochi to assist him, all he could do is to trust this man is indeed something. After all, he was recruited as part of the death game.

 

[John Connor]

Quid legatus sine exercitu?​

The Roman empire was once the most powerful in the ancient world yet Vatallion was the only man that held his destiny in his hands here. Without an army to back him up, he was venerable and had to keep moving.

Not sure who to trust in this strange death game, he went back and forth trying to watch everyone from a fair distance. He heard noises coming from a distance as he eyed a specific room. He swore he saw that Commander Flak guy and a few other contestants he could only guess from their clothing. As the two other contestants joined in light laughing, one had big curly hair and one had a red headband. Strange but somewhat interesting, the door noticeably closed. The man on the outside asked, "Can I help you with something?"

"No, just observing the competition, stranger. Nothing to worry about."

The sensei bowed and nodded "If that is what you want, Stranger."

The door opened quickly and a voice- no voices were heard.

"Who's there?!" came a deeper voice. The Legate revealed himself inside the door eying the group one by one and frowned, noting Flak staring at him.

The curly-haired Mr. Satan wasn't sure what to expect "Who's that guy anyway?" he asked, a bit disappointed.

Flak raised an eyebrow "Oh, he's just the guy that hogged that machine hours ago in the gym."

 

[Zayin]

If Zayin had any blood in him, he might have been tasting it after taking that slam. Thankfully, swords didn’t bleed, so he wasn’t about to have a blood-mad sharkman chasing after him in a frenzy. He was just going to have a normal sharkman chasing after him in a frenzy. The angel twirled one of his swords as he paced around the dojo, Nanaue and Coda circling in the opposite direction.

“Still going with the two against one strategy? That hardly seems fair, doesn’t it?” The hero grinned.

“Hey, fights aren’t meant to be fair.” Coda grinned back cheekily, adjusting her glasses a little to ensure they weren’t about to come loose in the chaos.

“I suppose you’re right. It’s a shame though, a third or fourth teammate for you guys would have made this a proper contest.” Zayin said, giving a mock sigh before redoubling his grin. “Oh well.”

The swordsman broke into a sudden sprint, breaking the standoff with a burst of motion. First, he made a break for Nanaue’s right before suddenly zigzagging to the left, dodging a shower of faux bullets before Coda’s aim was blocked as the sharkman lumbered forward, unwittingly placing himself between his two companions, right as Zayin had planned.

“Oh, Nanaue!” The gun-wielding woman groaned before climbing back up onto his back, hauling herself into a proper vantage point with his fin. Moments she returned to her shooting perch though, her balance was disrupted as Nanaue brought his fist down in a haymaker, attempting to squash the angel who had approached him directly and was now right in front of him.

As the semi-aquatic brute threw his punch, however, the living weapon circled around him a few steps and brought both swords down in what should have been a devastating blow. Against the bulky body of King Shark, however, the training swords may as well have been a pair of drumsticks. Still, combined with his own momentum, Nanaue found himself stumbling a little, which was just what Zayin was going for.

Using the sharkman’s semi-bent leg, the angel vaulted up and onto his shoulder, swiping one of his blades at the surprised Coda. The swordsman was confident he had caught her off guard and was guaranteed to score a hit, but to his surprise, the Carnivale Employee reacted to the swing with catlike reflexes, allowing herself to go limp and fall back, staying on Nanaue’s back only by holding on with her legs.

Though Zayin couldn’t see her eyes, he could easily imagine a wink on Coda’s grinning face as she looked up at him and brought both pistols to bear, peppering him with shots. The angel brought both swords up in an attempt to block, though he only managed to stop some of the fake bullets, feeling the rest bounce off his skin moments before Nanaue lurched to his feet, throwing both of them off balance.

Taking advantage of the sudden movement, the hero threw himself forward, clambering onto the shark’s back. For a moment, he felt one of King Shark’s hands tighten around his foot, but he was able to slip out before he could be manhandled (sharkhandled?) again. Mantling onto Nanaue’s back, the angel hurled himself at Coda in spite of her gunfire, tackling her off of her perch.

The two smaller fighters rolled to the ground, grappling with one another as the sharkman wavered back and forth, trying to pick Zayin out of the pile. Nanaue eventually went to grope at the angel’s wings, sending a tingle up his spine as King Shark’s meaty fist passed through the intangible extremities. Eventually, Coda managed to worm her legs up to her chest and kick out, separating the two. Zayin rolled to his feet while the Carnivale Employee did a backwards somersault, acrobatically righting herself and bringing her guns to bear.

The trio took a pause, each one grinning at the other two.

Nothing like a fight to make you feel alive!

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Zayin threw back his head in a joyous cackle, the blades of his longswords glinting in the crisp lamplight of the dojo. He danced backward, taking light, bouncy steps, and swept his arms wide to signal Coda and King Shark to approach, the glowing wings at his back fanning outward with a peacock-like flourish. Oh, but he was ready for this fight.

Nanaue cracked his knuckles menacingly, the sound echoing throughout the silent room. At his side, Coda spun her two dummy pistols in her hands like a cowboy out of an old western film, pointing them at the ceiling. As one, the pair moved— the burly shark man charging in for a more hands-on approach whilst Coda leaped backwards, taking aim at Zayin's chest and legs.

To their surprise, the angel began to spin around them like a deranged ballerina, both swords outstretched in a whirlwind of metal that left their eyes darting back and forth, struggling to keep up with his lightning-quick movements. Zayin, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life— dancing along to some unheard rhythm, the music of his blades slicing through the air and singing to his ears, easily deflecting Coda's bullets and King Shark's grasping hands alike.

King Shark huffed loudly in frustration as he attempted strike after strike against the whirling dervish that was Zayin, his meaty fists catching nothing but air time and time again.

Coda, on the other hand, held her own much better with her gunplay. For every dash or roll that the angel made there came an explosion of fake bullets from her pistols, daring him closer and closer each time— until finally she had backed him into a corner, setting up the perfect opportunity for the Shark King to strike!

Roaring loud enough to shake the rafters over their heads, King Shark charged forward with heavy, booming strides that threatened to crack the very floorboards. He held one giant palm out before him like a battering ram, seemingly with the intent of crushing the angel in one blow.

Just as Nanaue was steps away from Zayin, however, the angelic being brought both swords together in an expert pincer movement— neatly catching King Shark’s fist between the flattened sides of his blades!

The force of the impact sent a shockwave through Zayin’s arms, the sheer power behind the shark demigod's blow reverberating down to his very bones. But even with the strength of an ocean king behind it, Zayin felt no pain as he held fast against Nanaue’s might, gritting his teeth as he juuust barely managed to keep the powerful strike from connecting with his face.

King Shark emitted a strange rumbling sound akin to a junkyard dog's growl, jerking his arm backwards with enough force to free himself. The motion sent Zayin stumbling, his wings spread to catch his balance, feet screeching as they slid across the floor.

Spinning out, Zayin fought to balance himself by traveling with the heft of the sword grasped in his left hand, the other stretched outward like a conductor’s baton as he expertly deflected incoming shots from Coda’s dummy pistols. Unfortunately for him, the cotton bullets peppered the ground uselessly, turning the floor into a minefield of squishy-soft projectiles. They rolled under Zayin's feet as he staggered backwards, very nearly unbalancing him.

But the angel persevered— regaining his fighter’s stance with a single mighty beat of his wings. As if in retribution for the trouble caused by Coda's bullets, Zayin rushed forward with both swords held out before him, more than ready to battle it out with her!

Eyes widening, Coda reacted instinctively, her body breaking into motion before she could even think. She felt her leg muscles tighten and release like coiled springs, propelling her into the air in a spectacular somersault. Her long hair whipped around her, coat dragging against the air as she spun to avoid Zayin's assault. As she twisted mid-air to evade the swipe of his swords, she squeezed off two shots from her dummy pistols, landing gracefully on her feet with a triumphant flourish a dizzying half-second later.

“You'll have to be quicker than that!" the young woman taunted, breathless, her sunglasses comically slipping down her nose. She quickly snapped them back up with a flick of her wrist, barely missing a beat— only the briefest flash of yellow visible before it was hidden behind the dark lenses.

If Zayin was taken aback at the sheer agility displayed by his foe, he didn't show it, his eyes instead remaining fixed upon her with a steady determination. Still, he was barely able to match her as they clashed, especially with Coda performing increasingly complex aerial flips and spins all over the place— full 360s, front flips and backflips mixed in with her lightning-fast punches and kicks. Her bullets flew one way while she herself went another, which altogether resulted in the pair narrowly avoiding each other’s attacks as they danced nimbly around the enclosed space, often using King Shark as a buffer between them.

Just when it seemed that Coda might have the upper hand, however, Zayin used one of her own evasive moves against her. Cleverly predicting which direction she'd dodge next based on her earlier movements, he thwacked the side of her leg with the flat of his blade— not hard enough to bruise or break skin, of course, but definitely hard enough to send her crashing to the floor in an undignified heap.

Coda went down with a yelp, barely managing to catch herself before she face-planted onto the cold, unforgiving floor. A beat later, she sat up from where she'd fallen, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"I guess I'm not the sharpest blade in the drawer, huh?" she chuckled, swiping a hand across her brow. She wrinkled her nose at the sweat gathered on the back of her wrist, face twisting in disgust. "Eugh. Look at that, you even made me break a sweat!"

Shaking his head slightly in disbelief, Zayin couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Tiny but tenacious, you are," he replied, extending a welcome hand and hoisting Coda to her feet. He then cast King Shark a sidelong glance. "But I believe that is... one fish filleted, and one more left on the chopping block!”

 

[Ridley]

Flak was a pretty big guy - he had big hands, big feet, and if you looked between those big feet, moved your eyes up a few paces, he had an absolutely enormous belt buckle.


…Not sure why that was even coming up in his brain at the moment, but it probably had something to do with the knuckle sandwich that had just left him sprawled on the ground.

The larger man hadn’t been sure what them martian arts were going to do in terms of a fist-fight, but even against trained opponents he’d met before, he usually had an advantage just off of size. He’d decided to take the first shot at getting a spar with Mister Satan, before Shinku could even get a turn, but it was pretty frustrating. Every time he went to punch, Mister satan just knew, and he either hit air or a well-timed block. It was like trying to catch the world’s most flamboyant mouse, as he dodged around, and this had to have been like the 2nd time he’d hit the mat.

“One more and you’re out. That’s the rules we’re goin’ with, so we don’t get hurt!” Mister Satan called out, a smug smirk across his face.

“...Well alright then! Guess it’s time I get serious!” Flak roared, getting to his feet. Friend or not, No one was goin’ to stop Flak without a fight, as he leaped to his feet, and he felt the familiar energy steadily thrum through his body.

“Hrrrahhh!” The giant roared, throwing a haymaker the warrior easily dodged…

Leaving Flak to hit the metal behind Mr. Satan and leave a sizable dent, as he turned and threw a mean right hook to catch the man off-guard and leave him reeling.

Mr. Satan was quick to throw up a block, giving out a squeal of fright, as Flak’s dynamite fists hit and did… no real damage, being easily caught by Mr. Satan’s arm, before he countered by reflex with a knee to the groin.

And with that, Flak’s legs turned to jelly and he could have sworn he heard someone yelling Timberrr!

No one said anything for a moment, before Mr. Satan’s nervous chuckle filled the room.

“He heh… well, Flak, that was some incredible firepower, but uhh, three strikes. Time to hit the gong, ya know? Heh.”

Shinku looked more thoughtful, walking up as the sparring match was over. “What was that? You did not do that with just your usual strength there. Do you have some kind of power-up move?”

Flak gave a shrug. “Well, back on my world, I had a penchant for adding power to my punches… or the strikes of anyone in my command. Trouble is I’m not the best at actually doing it, so it’s pretty… inconsistent. It’s just a thing I can kinda… think Lash said the word is ‘channel’..., and it’s just something people from where I’m from can do.” Flak would submit, scratching his head. “‘Course, I’m one of the ones where it occasionally backfires and hits weaker than normal, but that’s no biggie. I just have to keep hitting till one fires off right! Ha-ha!” Flak would admit, before turning to Satan.

“Oh, uh… sorry for almost leaving an imprint on your face. I got a little heated. You’re like, way too good at this man. Last time I was beat that badly was by Hawke in my CO training.” the big man offered, giving the offer of a handshake. “Water under the ridge?”

“Bridge?” Mr. Satan asked.

“Sure, that works too.”

 

[Sandor Clegane]

“It might be beneficial for us to meet up, if not on Day One then maybe on Day Two or something,” Zayin stated, looking at Coda, pensive.

“Yeah, but where? We don’t know the island, and at that point it’s just luck and chance, unless we just sort of set a general direction like ‘head towards the middle’ or ‘head towards the outside’,” Coda answered, her face mirroring Zayin’s concentration.

The trio sat in a circle on the floor of the dojo. In the wake of the fighting and with their time together winding down, it seemed natural to begin discussing next steps.

“Well, if this is the island,” Zayin drew an invisible circle in front of him on the tatami mat. “Maybe we could meet right here, at the top.”

“Or right here at the bottom,” Coda pointed at part of the invisible circle closest to her.

“And if we do decide to do that, that means that we’re saying we can trust each - what is Nanaue pointing at?”

Zayin and Coda shifted both of their gazes first to Nanaue’s finger, and then the direction it was pointing. He hadn’t said anything, so it was difficult to tell how long the Shark King had been sitting in silence and pointing at the door, face blank, but it had been long enough that a sizable crowd had gathered. In the throes of conversation they must’ve missed them, and they’d gathered like vultures in the open door of the pseudo-traditional dojo set-up.

Paparazzi.

“Damnit, it's the paparazzi,” cursed Coda, standing up quickly and looking about. “You don’t want to let these assholes catch your scent or they’ll never leave you alone! Nanaue, cover us while we slip out of here!”

The mass of grey bulk lurched to a stand and went to spread his arms and torso out over Zayin and Coda, who backed up a step.

“Not literally, Nanaue,” Coda said, facepalming. “I meant for you to stand between us and them,” the last word dripped with venom, and she nodded towards the growing row of camera toting parasites in the doorway.

Nanaue shifted his body to comply, staring at the flares of camera flash, mesmerized by the murmured chatter. With so many of them in the doorway they were less like a group of individuals and more like a unified entity whose speech combined into an indiscernible, droning hum.

"What's a 'paparazzi'?" queried Zayin, perplexed. "What's that that they're holding."

"I'll explain later," Coda told him, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him behind her. "Let's go, before Nanaue loses focus."

“...num nums?”

Nanaue pointed at his mouth and twisted his torso to regard his friends just in time to see them slipping out the back door. He hastened to follow after them, not wanting to be left behind, and the paparazzi hastened after him for the same reason.

 

[John Connor]

​

It was a dream within a dream. Vatallion, the Legate of the 14th Legion, snapped open his eyes to find himself in the dojo almost... sleeping? What the hell did he do yesterday that allowed him to fall asleep in the middle of the day?

How did he allow himself to become so lazy before a death game?

He muttered something about "Wine" and pushed himself to his feet. Nobody still left in the area was quiet, but he decided to push any thoughts of yesterday afternoon in his head back as a distraction.

His focus was on what was in front of him, focused intentionally on the targets in front of him. He shot an arrow at the mid-sized target and it hit the side.

He walked out, more things still on his mind.

Whatever happened yesterday wasn't going to derail him today.

 

[Shinku]

"Well, it's my turn now," Trevor announced, veering his eyes toward the winner of the match. He'd have to admit, the guy had his moves and considering that it wasn't a sword battle, he'd be a really formidable opponent.

"Good luck Trez," Flak greeted, waving his hand as he stepped back to give space to the next duel.

For a moment, it became a staring battle, neither party willing to make the first move. Finally, Trevor launched into a frenzied flurry of blows which Satan managed to both dodge with grace, or deflect with his hand. The flurry stopped abruptly as the assassin of shadows went for a sudden roundhouse kick. To his surprise, however, the afro man was able to grab his foot, pulling him off his balance.

As Satan hefted him up, he let loose a straight kick with his other foot which was blocked by his opponent's elbow but the force was enough for him to pull his strained feet and somersault back into safety.

Had it been a battle of mere speed and alacrity, Shinku obviously had the advantage, however, the karate master's experience in hand to hand combat proved to be something that the assassin of shadows couldn't easily outmatch. Nonetheless, it was the perfect opportunity to learn a couple of moves from a more seasoned unarmed combatant.

Every kick and punch Trevor threw was merely parried and dodged with ease by Mister Satan. He was tempted to use any of his shadow skills but doing so would only defeat his purpose of learning the art of unarmed combat. Instead, he moved more carefully and traced the karate master's moves at the same time.

"You're good with this I can tell. But not nearly as good as me!," Mister Satan bragged, locking one of Trevor's arm and successfully performing a shoulder throw against the assassin. Trevor hit the ground helplessly, slightly dazed from the momentum of the throw.

"That's one knock out for you lad! Two more and you're out," Mister Satan remarked as he walked back into a preparatory karate stance.

After a few moments of zoning out, Trevor pulled himself up from the ground and readied himself for their next round of combat.

This time around, Mister Satan took the first offensive move, swiftly throwing his punches with deadly precision. It was only thanks to Trevor's natural alacrity that he managed to block each jab but each hit seemed to get stronger each time. Barely imitating the afro man's footwork, however, he was able to gracefully dodge some of his opponent's blows but still had to take in a few more hits.

Determined not to let the fight get the better of him, Trevor started performing the afro man's own counters which he managed to imitate from the earlier fight. Though still a bit crude, his speed advantage allowed him to gradually turn the tide of the match.

It wasn't long when Mister Satan started backing off because of the pressure he was under. Trevor's attack, combined with his declining stamina somehow threw him out of his game. Once again, he could feel the pain that Flack left him earlier adding more to his disadvantage. Refusing to lose however, the karate master kept a sound mind, waiting for an opportune time to strike back.

 

[John Connor]

Vatallion's "dream" consisted of a very strange way to do things.

"God Damnit, Marius, get the fuck off my shoulders. No, I didn't want you to bring the other 14th Legion to sit on my shoulders..."

And of course, things were like the man was figurately holding man by man on his shoulders like a pyramid.

Sometimes he hated his job. That's what Flak was terrified of, that same dream of him "carrying" his weight around.

He snapped his eyes open and realized that he was not going home. Even if he survived, there was no such place as Rome anymore and what was the point of worrying about something that doesn't exist anymore?

What would he do if he survived? How would he spend his life after?