DGS4 Phase 9 [Finale] -- The Heart of Things

[Rebecca Chambers]

Temporarily blinded by the brilliant flash of Moran’s excellent shot, Rebecca fell to her knees as the metal digits strangling her slackened, releasing her neck from their dread grip. She wheezed and clutched at her throat, violent coughs wracking her body as she doubled over. Hot, stinging tears streamed down her face, her head swimming as she greedily gulped in lungfuls of sweet, precious air.

Through her blurred, frazzled vision, she watched as DAVE struggled to peel himself from the floor, his metal frame convulsing, shooting sparks from his exposed circuitry. A strange, flickering light pulsed within a deep gouge in the back of his helm, his red optics blinking—matching the sizzling of his inner workings.

Accompanied by a soft flap of his dark coat, Wesker materialized in a smoky haze of movement and blurred after-images, his reddish-gold eyes glinting unnaturally in the light. With an iron grip, he snatched DAVE's arms, while Moran, her frame braced for the weight, took hold of the mechanical body’s weird, claw-like feet.

Together, they lifted the faltering machine—and bodily hurled him across the chamber.

As if in slow motion, DAVE's body whistled through the air, trailing cables and torrents of red-purple electricity like tentacles grasping desperately for purchase.

His metallic frame collided with a foundering, bleeding Subject F with a resounding CLANG that ricocheted off the cavernous walls of Central Access. The force of the impact sent both experiments tumbling across the floor, the grinding of metal and the injured subject’s pained howl echoing horrifically.

Gawking after the flung form of the robot, Rebecca stood, swaying on her feet. Her hand clutched determinedly around the strange little red and white ball in her grasp before releasing it with a gentle toss, watching as it landed on the ground with a soft, pinging chime.

The Poké Ball spun around once, twice, then cracked open with a fantastic pop, a bright, jagged streak of red energy arcing outward.

Gradually, the dazzling trail of crimson power coalesced into a roughly… humanoid shape.

From within the beam of light emerged a short and graceful figure, her body cloaked in a long, flowing gown of white and green that seemed to sway with an invisible breeze, the petal-like pleats swirling around her dainty, doll-like legs, giving off the impression that she was floating. Her soft green arms were slim and ended in delicate fingers that fluttered slightly as the creature turned to examine her surroundings, twitching as if strumming the strings of a harp.

A red crest adorned the creature’s chest and jutted out from between her shoulder blades, her head crowned with a pale green mantle, giving the vague appearance of hair or a cowl. Her eyes, a bright and soulful pink, quickly flicked towards Rebecca, the oblong pupils reflecting the glare of the winking, sparking lights.

Then, in her mind, the doctor heard it—a sylph-like voice that was as clear as crystal yet soft as velvet, friendly and warm.

Hello, said the Gardevoir, her eyes twinkling in joy. A soft, ethereal haze of purple mist radiated from her form, swirling and furling in fluffy clouds of lavender, swelling to fill the chamber around them. There is no need to fear, now; I am by your side!

The screeching grind of DAVE's sabotaged servos filled Rebecca's ears. She spun around to witness the metallic automaton heave himself upright, his movements janky and stilted as he attempted to block a one-two shot from Wesker’s handgun and Moran’s rifle in a deadly tango of lead and steel, a crimson shield materializing a second too late to stop them.

Subject F, too, was rising to her feet—shivering, her eyes wide with fear, like a child lost in the dark.

At Rebecca’s side, Gardevoir's arm rose with a willowy, graceful poise, an iridescent orb blooming inside her open palm. Within its swirling depths, a small flame of orange and purple flickered and grew, burning fiercer and fiercer with every passing second. Then, with a flourish, she swept her arm towards the two experiments, unleashing the comet-like salvo of mystical fire upon them.

Sadly, the resultant explosion went largely unappreciated by Rebecca as she was immediately accosted by a crazed woman.

“Wh—hey!”

Wildly dodging the haymaker that came flying at her face, Rebecca thought she remembered this woman from earlier—her tangled brown hair with a single white streak was familiar, but the glaring red eyes were… definitely new!

And also, unfortunately, kinda familiar.

Rebecca racked her feverish brain, fervently trying to recall the details of what she’d read in this contestant’s file. Something about… being able to touch people and absorb their strengths? Was that it?

God, it was hard to even think.

As a sword of searing red energy appeared suddenly in the woman’s grasp, the medic did her best to dart backwards, raising her bag between them to block the strike. It glanced off the bulky shape of Wily’s laptop tucked inside with a screech, a choked gasp leaving Rebecca’s lips as the blade’s edge glanced off and cut deep into one of her flailing arms, bright red blood welling to the surface of her skin.

She stumbled, nearly falling ass over teakettle as she hastily drew her Samurai Edge from where it was holstered at her hip, leveling it at the other contestant’s face.

“D-don’t make me shoot you!” she yelped, frantic, as some kind of fucking… fistful of sand was tossed into her face.

"Oh, please stop yer scurrying, Sugah! You squirrelly scientist folk are always making things so difficult for us!” Contestant Seventeen crowed, coming at her with what appeared to be some serious murderous intent!

Rebecca spluttered, spitting a glob of the sandy grains out as some got into her mouth, scrubbing the rest from her eyelashes with her wrist. “H-hey, Gardevoir! Help!”

With a billowing twirl of her long white gown, Gardevoir glided in front of Rebecca, lifting both of her arms.

Affixing her stare upon Rogue, her serene eyes blazed with a vibrant red hue, a mesmerizing, helical rainbow pattern spiraling outward from within her pupils in dizzying, hypnotic whorls. Her movements were rhythmic as she began to rock her body from side to side, almost as if she were swaying to some inaudible Pied Piper’s tune, a sweet smile gracing her features.

A warbling, song-like trill left Gardevoir’s mouth, her vermilion eyes glittering, oscillating with that same eerie, kaleidoscopic hue.

SLEEP!

Moves used by Gardevoir, in order of usage:

Misty Terrain

Misty Terrain - Creates a low-lying mist lasting 5 turns, that protects all grounded Pokémon from status conditions (including confusion). It also halves the power of Dragon type moves while in effect.

"Grounded" Pokémon are simply those that are not "raised". Raised Pokémon are any Flying types or those under the effects of Levitate, Magnet Rise or Telekinesis. Full details in glossary.

Misty Terrain is a "terrain" condition and can coexist at the same time as weather conditions, but not other terrain conditions.

The move Nature Power turns into Moonblast under Misty Terrain.

Calm Mind

Calm Mind raises the user's Special Attack and Special Defense by one stage each.

Stats can be raised to a maximum of +6 stages each.

Mystical Fire

Mystical Fire deals damage and lowers the target's Special Attack by one stage.

Hypnosis

Hypnosis puts the target to sleep, if it hits. Sleeping Pokémon cannot move (with some exceptions such as Snore). Sleep lasts for 1-3 turns.

Pokémon with the abilities Insomnia or Vital Spirit, or those behind a Substitute cannot be put to sleep.

Charm

Charm lowers the target's Attack by two stages.

Stats can be lowered to a minimum of -6 stages each.

Disarming Voice

Disarming Voice deals damage and ignores changes to the Accuracy and Evasion stats.

PARTY MEMBERS: Rebecca Chambers, Sebastian Moran (Summon), Albert Wesker (NPC), Gardevoir, the Rest.
CURRENT LOCATION: Central Access
ACTION(S): Moran and Wesker threw DAVE at Subject F and are beating the heck outta them. Rebecca released Gardevoir, and together they are trying to get Rogue's head on straight. Queuing up a usage of my last Focus and Rebecca's last “Health Spray” Hand Grenade consumable for the end of things. Plus any healing consumables that could be squeezed in; that's the First Aid Spray and Antidote Syringe (not the one given to Holmes).

FOCUS COUNT: 1/3
REBECCA STATS: REASON 11, STAMINA 12
INVENTORY: Profile Consumables, Survival Gear, Loot Listed Below, Antidote Syringe (Previously Given to Holmes).

STATUS: Entering spore third stage; BLOOMING.

CURRENT LOOT:

• Whetstone.
• S.T.A.R.S. Captain PDA. (Given to Wesker!)
• Sunglasses. (Given to Wesker!)
• Voltage checkers.
• Battered old laptop (burnt out, but would love to return this to Wily! Lol.)
• Programming manuals.
• Technical AI documents.
• Site Seven notebook.
• Ring of Keys.
• Site Seven Emergency Response Protocols folder.
• Stun Baton. (Holmes has it!)
• One Wesker, please.
• Poké Ball

 

[Karl Jak]

Kevin reached up and peeled away the wine-soaked cowl.

A few yards away, a close approximation to Karl Jak stood, empty glass in a hand now held in the air to his side. While all the details were technically correct, the man’s skin had an unnatural pallor to it that betrayed his origins. Not only was the skin simply wrong by Karl’s standards (Mr. Jak would vanish for a week at a spa before he ever looked this sickly), but it also had a mottled and scarred appearance in spots.

“Is that judgment I see in your face, Kevin?” Karl chuckled as he casually chucked the wine glass at his assistant’s face. The zombie smacked it away without breaking eye contact. “Your face is literally an affront to mankind.”

Kevin smiled—a garish thing that revealed he’d somehow lost a few teeth earlier in the event, whether to decay or being battered around would remain a mystery to most interested parties. “It’s an affront to mankind that you’re responsible for, Mr. Jak.”

A snicker as the bossman reached into the pocket of his suit jacket for a pair of purple gloves. He spoke as he slipped the gloves over his unsightly hands. “Please, Kevin, don’t be dramatic. You signed a hiring contract … how long ago? Nineteen years ago? Twenty?”

“And yet I’m not even twenty-eight yet … ain’t that a trip, Sir?”

At that, Karl laughed. “What can I say,” he replied as he gave his gloved fingers a wiggle. “Except… you’re welcome? You know how many men and women in their thirties or forties would kill to spend three decades in their twenties? Do you know how many depressed middle-aged people are out there wishing they had the energy and drive they used to as they pine about days gone by?”

“Is this a cry for help, Mr. Jak?”

The producer smiled. “Please, Kevin, don’t denigrate me like that. Vanity is a human affliction. You know that I don’t have time to be vain.”

“Of course, you have no time, you were an inanimate husk until recently, Mister Jak.”

The man in the purple suit shook his head. “Again, with the pot calling the kettle black, Mister Kaj? I may not be the Karl Jak, but what are you? Are you certain you’re even yourself and not just some macabre re-iteration willed into reality by a cosmic space god looking to get a few more laughs out of you?” Karl sneered as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. “You’re been dragging yourself all around this island and for what? A sense of duty to someone who discarded you like a piece of trash?”

“Shut up.”

“Or maybe you’ve pushed yourself all this way because you wanted to feel like you’re actually worth something?”

“Shut. Up.”

“Did a strike one of those decomposing nerve cords in that dense skull of yours? Is it because you know, deep down in that decayed heart of yours, that no matter what you’ve done today… you are still NOTHING. You mean NOTHING, and when you die again—and you will—you will once again be forgotten and consigned to a file folder in a dingy old HR office?”

Kevin let out a hoarse, airless scream as he lifted a hand. In an instant, the concealed repulsor flared to life and shrieked forward with a whoosh of plasma as it crashed into the chest of the producer and sent him careening backwards into a piece of industrial equipment. The zombie scowled as he clenched his fingers. Panels of red armor flickered into existence around the hand and up his arm as he held out his other arm and summoned a hammer with a clap of thunder.

Six feet away, Karl Jak wrenched himself free from the sparking piece of equipment and winced a little as he felt the crushed and compromised metal scrape at his suit. “This was my favorite suit.” He shouted as he pushed away from the cratered machinery and hopped back down to the floor.

“Sir, that’s your only suit.”

Rising up to a fully vertical position, Karl rolled his eyes at the undead zombie’s sass. “You can lash out at me, Kevin, but don’t belittle my wardrobe. You know these are all custom-made.”

“I’ll arrange for you to be buried in the correct one, Mr. Jak.”

Karl smiled as he shrugged off the town suit jacket and gently tossed it onto a nearby pipe. The suit fell in an almost perfect fashion onto the improvised coat hanger as its owner reached a hand into the air and summoned a circular, tri-colored shield.

Kevin broke into a sprint—his armored hand held forward as he leashed a barrage of repulsor bolts against his employer.

Without losing his smile, Karl almost casually reflected away the oncoming bursts as the range between the two closed rapidly. As the zombified personal assistant got close, he swung with the hammer. Mjolnir struck the surface of the Vibranium shield with a (literal) thunderous clang that caused the air around them to thrum with static electricity.

“Good try,” Karl replied as he swung with his other hand—a massive green fist. The PA gleaned the impact coming far too late to do much more than take the punch square on the side of his head.

Ragdolled across the floor of the facility’s basement, Kevin winced as traced his armored fingers over the left side of his head and found the flesh, sutures, and underlying bones to all be heavily compromised. Taking a moment to reset a dislocated eye, the PA rose to his feet and flashed a nearly toothless smile to his employer.

“You’ve seen better days, Kevin.”

 

[Karl Jak]

“You’ve seen better days, Kevin.”

“Haven’t we all, Mr. Jak?”

Karl blew a soft kiss as he leapt into the air with the grace of a career acrobat. For his part, Kevin backpedaled as the airborne producer flung the shield like a discus. The ground cleaved away with little resistance to the defensive implement turned death Frisbee. When Mr. Jak landed and crouched to retrieve it from the compromised steel, Kevin sprung forward with a burst of speed from repulsors conjured into his decrepit feet.

“Shit,” Karl rasped as he saw too late what had happened. Mjolnir slammed into the producer’s ribcage, and a moment later, a bolt of lightning screamed forth at point-blank range from the conjured hammer. Now it was the boss’ turn to be treated like the plaything of an overstimulated child, yet even though there was a snap of bones and a smearing of blood from where Karl had literally been sheared against the floor by the momentum, he rose to his feet. The expression on his face betrayed little emotion in response to the pieces of shorn flesh and fabric that stretch out in front of him.

“It doesn’t have to come to this, Kevin.”

“Come to what?”

“I don’t have to destroy you. You can join me. Join us. Do you not understand the implications of this project? We could end death, Kevin.”

Kevin smiled. “I know the irony, Sir, but death is not something to be conquered or undone. Death is how you celebrate life. Without death, life has no meaning.”

Karl shook his head. “You can say that. You work at the will of an Arbiter. But what about those who don’t? Those who toil the fields of Mesa Roja just to survive? What about the workers in the mines on Inverxe who sacrifice their lives for the sake of mineral extraction? Something tells me they might not share your disposition.” With that, Karl reached behind his back and retrieved a military-grade bow. “For someone who seems to care so much about every no-name Tom, Dick, and Sally from that train, you sure seem content to consign them to eventual death and nonexistence.”

Before he could respond, Kevin had to move to avoid an oncoming trio of arrows. Stumbling as his decrepit legs momentarily gummed up his movement, the PA grimaced as another arrow punched through his abdomen and sent him to the ground with a desiccated thud.

Grimacing through pain that technically didn’t register in his non-firing brainstem, Kevin reached back and snapped apart the metal arrow just as he heard a particular heinous booming from further south in the basement of Central Access. Turning his focus in that direction, the zombie winced as an inky, impenetrable darkness swallowed up the greater portion of the chamber’s southern half.

“See, Kevin?” Karl shouted as the undead ginger scrambled back to his feet to avoid another hail of arrows. “This is a lost cause! The project will not be destroyed by the likes of you. Even now, these miscreants turn on one another.”

Kevin dove behind a piece of machinery that ran from the floor up to the ceiling. He turned his focus back to the dark zone and tried to figure out what was happening inside of it. Unfortunately, even his augmented eyeballs had little luck piercing the veil of darkness. Consigning himself to the fact that he was useless so long as this Karl Jak lived, Kevin flexed his armored fingers and closed his eyes. With no breathing of his own to filter out, he had little problem zeroing in on the purposefully soft footfalls of his employer.

With a smile, Kevin’s eyes popped open and he rolled out to his left. As he did, he released a salvo of repulsor blasts before throwing himself sideways. As he moved through the air, he flung Mjolnir like a javelin.

Taken aback, Karl managed to shoot through the repulsor blasts with his arrows, but he had little time to react to the hammer. This time, the weapon struck his ribs and shattered them apart as it caved into his chest. With a matter of moments, the producer went from stalking cornered prey to sitting on the ground and staring at a hammer that was firmly lodged into about three inches of his chest.

Grabbing the handle of the weapon, Karl wrenched it free—grimacing as the fragments of ribs scrapped and slashed within his chest. “I can still go with one lung,” he wheezed as blood seeped from his mouth and oozed from abrasions on his chest. “Come now, Kevin! It’s almost time to conclude this exit interview!”

On the ground next to the producer, Mjolnir jiggled audibly for a few moments before it was pulled back to parts unknown by an unseen force.

“Yes,” Karl mumbled as he held out a hand and summoned an oversized runeblade with a gaudy, inlaid gold handle. Ea’s blade thrummed with energy as the producer started a lurching, almost zombie-like walk forward to meet his adversary. “Come now, Kevin.”

“Right here, Sir.”

Karl twisted and swung.

With a clap of red-black energy, Ea’s glowing blade crashed into the shaft of Kevin’s keyblade. The two men shared mutually amused expressions before shoving away from one another and adjusting their stances.

“You did that on purpose,” Karl accused.

Kevin, despite the fact that half his face had been collapsed in on itself, managed the closest thing to a smirk he could muster with the half-inoperable facial muscles he had left. Then, he sprung forward.

Surprisingly, there was little pep in the zombie’s step, and that fact did not go unnoticed by his employer. Karl telegraphed the first few strikes from the ginger, and then he shoved him off balance rather easily after their fourth quick tie-up of blades. As Kevin reeled, Karl moved quickly and hacked off the armored hand that held onto the keyblade.

With the closet thing to a distraught look on his face, the zombie stumbled forward and fell to his knees as his severed hand thumped onto the ground between him and Karl. The keyblade vanished from existence with an almost comically puff of light and dust, leaving a twitching limb behind.

“Don’t worry, Kevin,” Karl spoke as he stepped forward and dramatically stuck Ea into the ground next to him. “You may have failed, but this won’t be the end for you. The project will ensure that a better version of you lives forever. Not this pitiful flesh golem that you’ve become.”

A wheezing noise escaped the PA, and it took Karl Jak a moment to realize that Kevin was apparently trying to laugh.

“Something funny?” Karl asked softly as he crouched down next to the kneeling man.

“Just imagining … the look on your face,” Kevin whispered. “When…”

After a moment of silence, Karl furrowed his brow. “When what?”

Without a response, Kevin grasped his severed hand from the floor and turned its repulsor palm right into the face of Karl Jak.

There was a violent flash of light and heat as the bolt of energy sheared across half of the producer’s face.

A shrieking Karl Jak lurched back to a fully vertical position as his hands clasped at his blackened face. While there may have been a more coherent thought forming on his lips in this frantic moment, that went to the wayside when he felt the cold steel blade explode through his heart and out through the back of his spine.

Hands falling limply from his face to his sides, Karl looked down and could only see the wooden handle of the machete that was buried through his chest. Lifting his eyes up to Kevin, the man in the purple suit could only offer half a smile before he crumpled into an inanimate heap on the ground.

For a moment, Kevin stood there and watched somberly as the pool of blood continued to spread around the fallen figure. Sure, this wasn’t technically his boss, given the reanimation or replication or whatever re-process had gone into his creation. But that was also somewhat of a slippery slope. If you followed that same line of logic then was he really Kevin Kaj at this point?

Kneeling down, Kevin wrenched the machete out of the corpse with his recently reattached hand and turned to face the darkness that still enveloped much of Central Access' lower level.

“Time to save death,” the zombie whispered as he willed his battered, weary hulk toward the heart of the matter.

Party: Kevin
Location: Central Access, Lower Level
Action: Kevin's going to throw himself into the fracas around the mainframe or whatever it is down here that needs to destroyed
Focus: 6/9 (we'll just assume he used a point for this post and the most recent one)

 

[Rogue]

My head is pounding like a stampede of cattle. What happened? Was ah asleep? Ah'm definitely lying on the floor, and ah'm half tempted just to lay there a bit longer, but as soon as the pain in my head lets up even the slightest bit, ah become very aware of the horrible sounds and smells that are happening all around behind me. Ah'm in the middle of something nasty. It's no time for a snooze.

Gritting my teeth, ah roll over, sliding one arm underneath me to start the monumental task of getting up off the ground. It's like there's a bowling alley inside of my skull, thoughts colliding with one another in deafening clangs. Half of them don't even make any damn sense either! What am ah doing here? Everything is got a red lens over it when ah finally muster the strength to open my eyes. Ah lift my head to see a scene of absolute carnage unfolding ahead of me. That robot-looking thing, DAVE, that's his name. DAVE's going absolutely buck-wild, laying people out flat with every punch he swings.

As ah watch, Majima gets decked mid-leap and goes down in a crumbled heap. Kiryu gives a cry and rushes towards DAVE. He slips past DAVE's swing and manages to get his arms around the robot's torso. He deadlifts the whole thing over his back to supplex the thing. The robot turns all purple in midair though, and Kiryu falls over off-balance. He's on his back now staring up at DAVE now as the robot lands on re-solidified feet.

"Commendable, but insufficient." the robot intones, and then punts the downed Yakuza into the nearest wall without the least bit of ceremony.

He turns to a face full of mystic fire, the doctor's floating guardian in his sights, or maybe he's after the doctor right behind them. Either way he raises a hand and a whole bunch of metal debris starts flying through the air in their direction. The Floating thing makes some kind of barrier but their whole vicinity ends up so clogged in dust ah can't see what happens.

There's something ah'm supposed to be doing, isn't there? It's like a voice, no, like a bunch a voices, all muttering in the back of my brain. My head hurts too much to make out what they want though.

The soldier lady looks real desperate now. She opened fire with her magic to get DAVE off of the doctor, but she's not in much better shape herself now. DAVE's hands extend behind him and an explosive blast hurtles him forwards, fast! He bullrushes the soldier lady and sends her tumbling. One of his hand's is turning into a blade now. She's not going to be able to get out of the way, ah can see it, even as DAVE raises his blade arm overhead.

Suddenly ah have to move. Ah don't even register the thought, but there ah am, sprinting full-pelt across the battlefield towards them. With a desperate cry ah slide into the way, catching the blade arm with my hands on the downswing. This suckah's strong! Ah grit my teeth, struggling against him as ah stare down those three red eyes. Now that ah'm touching him again ah can feel the voices in my head getting stronger. Ah could just do what DAVE wants, what most of the voices want. But there's some in there that're urging me on right now. That are telling me this is exactly the right thing to be doin' right now!

"Contestant Seventeen. You are still party to the collection within me. You are not behaving outside of parameters."

"You know what ah say to that?" Ah grunt, diverting the blade off to one side, and reeling back one fist.

"MISSISSIPPI SMASH!"

Ah punch DAVE so hard he goes flying head over mechanical heels. Crashing into a wall across the room. The red cords of power around my arm fade out and ah drop to one knee. The arm feels like ah've shattered every bone it's got in it. It looks discolored like one big bruise, but its hard to tell with everything bein' shades of red.

"...Ah don't even know where that is..." ah chuckle under my breath.

DAVE isn't ready for the recycling bin yet though, it looks like, and ah struggle my way back onto my own feet.

"If you will not be an asset, then you will be removed from the equation." DAVE's tone never changes, but he's starting to sound a little bit strained now. He starts to steamroll his way towards me, and ah leap through the air towards him in response. His punch hits me in the face dead on, but ah respond instinctively, biting down on the metal with teeth that're way too sharp to fit in my mouth.

Still makes for disappointing noms.

Ah drop backwards, my broken arm hangs limply at my side, slowly re-knitting itself. Ah spit a chunk of metal and blood off to the side, then settle into a boxer's stance.

"Time for you to witness the elegant, one-armed boxin' technique ah stole from the Armstrong family line in one generation!" Ah snarl, and rush forwards, weaving and ducking around DAVE's blows until ah can get in close. Ah won't make much progress just pounding away at someone this strong, but if ah can break his joints, then maybe ah can do some real damage to the thing.

"Your behavior is unaccounted for and is undesired. CEASE!" DAVE swings a haymaker of punch, one that lays me flat on the ground.

"You cannot effectively oppose me further. Your brazen tactics have resulted in your demise."

Ah get back up, blood and sweat matting my hair to the side of my face. My vision's blurring at the edges, and this red tint doesn't help, but ah can see DAVE clear enough to keep fighting him. It's a bit of a struggle getting words out though.

"If this was just you an' me, ah'd agree with you... But see, ah'm just buying time for the rest of them to recover."

As woozy as ah am, ah can't help but smile.

"Guess you just got bamboozled, Sugah!"

Rogue is using her application of Focus to concentrate on those aspects within DAVE's collection of contestants with particularly noble aspirations, allowing her to oppose him despite his influence.
0/1 Focus remaining.

 

[Mollymauk Tealeaf]

Wunya walked towards Cecil slumped against a wall nearby, sheathing her katana and pulling out the last thin cigarette from the train-pilfered case an eternity ago. After lighting it she tossed the gold rectangle over her shoulder and joined her lone Redcoat, squatting down to get to his level. He looked up at her and she raised her eyebrows in a question, and he shook his head in response.

“Just me left, Coach. We fought like hell though, and you’dabeen prouder’n a kid catching his first krawdad. Nancy told me to tell you that you’re welcome anytime to go muddin’ and test out her bog-kit…whatever that means,” Cecil said, taking the offered lit cigarette and pointing a bloody hand towards the scene playing out across the way from them. Wunya watched, green eyes following every change in style from D.A.V.E and Rogue. The cigarette wore down as it was passed, and Cecil finally spoke up again. “I snagged all their EMPs, by the way…got quite the collection. Leo bet me money that he would die first, and then made sure he did by saving me…bastard…I’m bleeding everywhere but out my asshole Coach, so if you got a plan, lay it on me.”

Wunya gave a closed mouth chuckle and flicked the cigarette, helping the Krawman to his feet as she stood. She gave the heaviest sigh that Cecil had ever heard, then looked at her sole survivor. “I have only one plan I think will work in this thing, but do not judge me for what I am about to do…”

When the Arcadian Mage-hunter had woken from stasis sleep, out of time and all alone, she had to do shameful things for money. Her choices back then were a stain on her soul, and now here she was, having to face those demons. Everyone gets desperate at times, everyone has decisions and choices they wish they could erase from their memories, and Wunya had never felt so ashamed during that time in her life, but with no resources, she did what she had to do.

Some things really were worse than death.

With a heavy heart, Wunya reached into her singlet and removed a green mask, bejeweled with tiny emeralds and lined with silver along the stitching. She had come so far, and gotten out of the business clean with anonymity intact to start building her reputation on the real underground fighting circuits, where she built a real reputation and became The Coach, her proudest achievement.

A single tear of shame trickled from Wunya’s eye before she set her jaw, then put the mask over her head. If it meant a chance at helping the Crossroads, she could do it. She could be that person again, the hero she needed to be. From what she had observed, none of the combat styles would be ready for this. She heard Cecil gasp and turned to look at him.

“...The Green Mountain…” He whispered out with awe. Wunya did not speak, because she could already feel herself changing back into that despicable farce of a person who needed the money, and quick preparations were needed before it was too late. Undoing her belt of EMPs, they were handed over Cecil with a nod, then she marched, which slowly turned into an arm-swinging swagger, large comical steps as she sauntered over to where the two Yakuza were gathering themselves up, shooting her finger guns at an audience that wasn’t there the whole way.

She reached the Dragon and Hannya tattoos and gave them both a slap. The Coach was put away and all that remained was…

“The Green Mountain?!” Majima shrieked as he spun around, with shock.

“Nani?” wondered aloud Kiryu, turning to face her.

“Kiryu-Chaaaaan! She’s the CHAMP! The Greatest there was, The Greatest there is, The Greatest there ever will be, Whooo! I’m wearing your face on my underwear right-”

A large green finger was put to the Mad Dog’s lips and Wunya threw a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing dramatically to the scene of Wesker fighting Subject F alone. Kiryu nodded sternly, and breaking through the fog of her stage persona- Wunya was shocked at how beautifully he grimaced, but snapped back as she was overtaken again by her ridiculous alter-ego. The Dragon of Dojima was pulling on his one-eyed partner, as he kept staring star-struck, and muttering catchphrases and her accolades while being spirited away to another fight.

“How did I not see it-” Cecil began, before he was abruptly cut off.

“Brotherrr, you’ll only see what The Green Mountain wants you to seeee,” Wunya stage growled, her voice keeping the regular deep boom, but at full volume, with it all coming out raspy. Cecil couldn’t help but smile at his hero, Crossroads Wrestling Federation’s longest Heavyweight Champion belt-holder, and he patted the tiny rubber figurine of her he kept in his pocket for good luck. The Krawman Limped behind and double-checked all ten of the EMPs as Wunya in her mask dance-walked towards D.A.V.E, stopping to flex her biceps and getting wild as her old intro music played in both their heads. Cecil handed her a water bottle as he asked a question.

“Why send away those two dudes, I figured them for some great fighters-” and again he was cut off, which he loved as someone who considered themselves her biggest fan.

“Brotherrrr, let me tell you straighttt,” and she paused to take a giant gulp of water which she sprayed out into the air above them like a mist. “The Green Mountain needs Girllll Powerrrrr!” and then she gave out an iconic “WHOOOO!” Which got the attention of DAVEbot-Alpha as he was looming over the downed Rogue. The three red dots turned to face Wunya, and she pushed away Cecil who snapped to attention and moved off about ten feet for added safety.

They stared at one another, two green orbs against three red ones, both hidden behind protective film, of sorts.

And who might you b-

“Brotherrrr, let me askkkk you something,” Wunya said in the stage voice, probably reminiscent of Nancy’s oversized truck tearing up gravel. “What does D.A.V.V.V.E stand forrr?”

Hm. Very well. It stands for-

“IT DOESN'T MATTERRRR WHAT IT STANDS FORRR!!” And The Green Mountain ripped off their body armor, revealing the entire body singlet, and all the corded muscles underneath- then she charged.

“Damn,” said Sebastian Moran with a short whistle as she ran to collect the katana and stun baton from where they were left discarded with the armor. “I actually loved The Green Mountain. How did I miss that?” She chided herself as she looked at Rebecca who just seemed more or less confused, but that could have been the fever, or the black veins, or the fatigue, or the multitudes of other symptoms she was experiencing.

D.A.V.E. went for a swipe, but somehow was now caught in a hold that none of his legion knew what the point of it was, as the green mask was near him enough that their eyes were inches apart, one massive green hand on the back of it’s cranial encasement, the same muscled-arm blocking from under the joint that connected metal appendage to the body, while the giant woman’s other arm seemingly blocked out his whole side. They were too close to kick, so D.A.V.E tried changing his levels, but a second later they were separated and the trunk-like forearm of Wunya smacked down against his body, just in-time with his ever-present glitch, and the robot was forced back two steps.

The Green Mountain danced backward, lifting her arms up to get cheers and she actually heard some. She turned and saw Carnivale Rosa employees of the facility coming out of the woodworks from entry ways, joining towards the center. She rotated her left hand over and over before putting it to her ear as they started to cheer louder. She did the same thing to the right hand and the right ear.

D.A.V.E charged in, and that was when the first EMP went off at their clawed feet. The robot shuddered throughout their body and recoiled, the red dots blinking quickly to come back online as he felt the full force of the half-orc’s dropkick. Wunya got up and spread her arms out to the crowd of about twenty in total, all looking haggard like they had been walled-up for months. She noticed Cecil handing out EMPs on the sly and giving two-second tutorials. She flipped off the crowd and they went nuts. A pair of boxer shorts flew at her and she snatched the garment, folding them out to see The Green Mountain’s mask, hearts all around. She caught the one-eye of the shirtless Majima.

Kiryu shouted him back to their fight with Wekser against Subject F, and Majima gave a whining “Kiryu-Chaaaaan, the Champ is back!” But he sprinted back towards where he was beckoned.

It went on like this for the next six EMPs, with any chance Davebot-Alpha of finding who was throwing them useless, as all the CR Employees stood with hands behind their backs in solidarity. The giant in spandex took a few hits, but everytime she would overreact it, and then falter like there were some sort of invisible bungee ropes surrounding them that would snap her back, full force. D.A.V.E. was having enough of this, and was fighting more viciously, all attacks going towards the most lethal, clawed digits on the hands and feet striking out always for vitals. One of these attacks was coming for the fleshy green throat now, but Wunya did the most simple and unexpected thing, and just ducked under it, like a children’s game of tag. The impossibly strong hands of The Wrestler grabbed the glass face-shield from over her shoulder, then dropping them both to the ground, as a small crack from somewhere on the robot’s body was audible.

“Brotherrr, when I’m done with you, they won’t even take you at the scrap yarrrrd!” Wunya shouted, getting up. She looked to Cecil and gave a slight nod, then jumped back as D.A.V.E kicked out, almost taking her leg clean off.

All the legions inside the bot were going nuts, trying to figure out what they should actually do, everytime setting out to test a new style against their silver-haired foe coming up short with a spasm from the corrupted body or an EMP tossed. Davebot-Alpha stood, and started to channel some nascent skill of powerful energy when yet again, this time from behind him, an EMP went off. When the three red dots came back into focus, they were rewarded with a chokeslam. This time, there was no celebrating, and the moment D.A.V.E. rolled to its front body casing, another went off and Wunya was on his back, incredible legs blocking the arms at shoulder joints, and pulling back the head from under the metal chin.

The small crowd went absolutely bonkers and she took a second to glance around, seeing Moran holding the katana and stun baton she nodded to the sniper and both were thrown as the last and final EMP flared. Wunya caught the sword and baton, letting go of the metal head, then came down with them towards the face-shield.

She recalled a line from some commercials The Green Mountain had done for some sort of electrolyte nutrition bar.

“Snap into a Zap-Snack, Brotherrrrr!!” Cried the giant wrestler, covered in her own blood.

Wunya is using her last focus to break through the face of DAVEbot-Alpha with the katana and drive the stun baton into one of the glowing eyes.

Party Members - Wunya and the Central Access peeps
Currently - Rasslin’ D.A.V.E.
Focus - 0/3 (Not counting the one I just used)
Stats - Reason 12, Stamina 11
Inventory - Survival Gear, Body Armor, Katana, Stun Baton

 

[Travis Touchdown]

When Travis said that he wanted Flak and Leonidas to help distract D.A.V.E., he meant up here with him and now down the elevator. Well at the very least no matter which D.A.V.E. is being distracted, it might make this easier for him. Then more people kept going down that elevator and it made him nervous. He thought things couldn’t get any worse.

And then Rogue started to go crazy. With Kiryu and Majima going after her now. At the moment no one was fighting D.A.V.E. and only the two remaining Subjects were being the ones being fought. He found a small little corner/alcove on the right side of the elevator to hide behind. Leaning against the wall and occasionally appearing behind the corner to watch what is happening.

“Shit shit shit if I had both of my arms I could go in a fight but with how things are I am half the man I used to be. Or would it be a quarter…a fifth? Whatever the point is I can’t rush in. Though Rogue is distracted and she’s a serious problem now. I could kill her while she’s distracted but I can’t. I swore I would never kill another woman again and that one Subject didn’t count.” Travis contemplated.

The orc lady was doing a good job against the magic twink. And Wesker was going well against the nervous wreck axe lady. That is when he caught a glimpse of D.A.V.E. attacking Rebecca Chambers and some military lady comes in and attacks him. Finally, someone does something about him. Yet he doesn’t look too distracted yet. He waited for an opportunity.

Then he saw Rebecca throw a Pokeball of all things and summon one that he recognized from the internet. As Gardevoir summons some kind of magical fire on D.A.V.E. as the robot is flung into Subject F by Wesker and Moran he then sees Gardevoir use some kind of psychic power trick to bring Rogue to their side. As Rogue just lays it on D.A.V.E.. At this point, he’s wondering if he is even needed and that D.A.V.E. would just be beaten without his help. He waits just a bit more just to be sure.

And that is when Wunya puts on her Green Mountain persona. She is a big enough deal that even Majima is a huge fan. As a huge wrestling fan, he is highly impressed with her skills. Even tempted to ask her for some tips and to teach him some of her moves when this is all over. He also should search the name Green Mountain online to catch her in action in the ring cause he hasn’t been around long enough to know such a badass could exist here.

Hell, he could even get an autograph while he has the opportunity and people would flip knowing he has one if she’s this well-known. He almost let out a cheer but held it in. Damn it, he let himself get so starstruck that he almost blew his cover. Then he sees that she has the robot pinned to the ground. Now was his chance.

He then ran as fast as he could out of his hiding spot. Dodging the chaos that surrounded him. He then thrusts his supercharged Beam Katana into D.A.V.E.’s third eye while Wunya, or rather the Green Mountain, used her katana and stun baton to go for the other two eyes, aiming for a combo attack to hopefully finish D.A.V.E. off with no hopes of recovery. As it is piercing through the glass clase covering his face and is going towards the eye Travis then screams one of the attack names of his personal favorite anime from his universe, Pure White Lover Bizarre Jelly, for the finishing blow.

"Strawberry on the Shortcake!" he screams out.

Party: Travis and the Central Access crew
Focus: 0/1
Action: Combining his attack with Wunya's to stab D.A.V.E. in his stupid face right in the third eye with his Beam Katana that he supercharged earlier.
Inventory: Survival Gear, Beam Katana (Forgot that even though it's an ability it technically/probably counts as part of his inventory)

 

[The Man in Red]

In the fight topside....

A trio of weapons all sank into DAVE's face-plate, in a shower of bursting glass, shredding metal and cacophonous dazzling flash of sparks. The battered robot's body convulsed and twitched, sparks and electrical arcs flickering along it as its limbs twitched and thrashed in chaotic patterns.

A commendable effort. I suppose that much should be congratulated.



The robotic chassis went still, save for a few sparks sputtering from the damaged face-plate....before a faint bubbling, hissing noise sounded and a noxious, acidic smell started to rise. Thick fumes of dark green and yellow floated up out of every crack and scratch in the plating, the sparks slowly dying down to nothing.

But did you really think 'commendable' would be enough?



The Green Mountain and Travis both realized what was about to happen a split second before it actually did, DAVE's damaged body giving them the critical moment they both needed to leap and tumble away to safety before a billowing plume of noxious green-yellow gas burst up from the battered robot and its metallic frame dissolved into greenish slime and sludge, spreading and flowing out into a steadily-expanding puddle.

"The fuck is he doing now?!" Travis shouted, frantically backpedaling as fast as his injuries let him.

"It doesn't matter what he's up to, just keep eyes on him!" Wunya barked, doing precisely that as she much more artfully backed away, weaving between the chaos at hand.

You did more damage than I had accounted for, even with the...assistance from Doctor Wily. I should have made sure to remove him from the equation sooner.



The pool of acidic sludge bursts into sheets of purple flame and lightning, and slowly a humanoid shape rose up from the center of it. Shrouded in rippling fire and chaotic crackling lightning, the shape of it was hard to make out. But it rose up, slowly, growing in size and stature both, a colossal shape of titanic proportions, nearly as wide as it was tall, and with two blazing points of greenish-blue light where its eyes would be. A deep rumbling noise, like the hammering of massive drums and the revving engine of some goliath vehicle filled the room, setting the very room to shaking.

Travis's face went pale in spite of himself, and he staggered back. "What...the fuck...?"

Wunya steeled herself, setting her jaw in a hard grimace behind her mask as she stared down the monstrosity before them now. "Nice trick!" she roared.

DAVE's lumbering titanic form swung its burning gaze down to focus on her directly, the relative pinpoints of blazing light narrowing as if in a squint.

Trick? You have no idea what—



"Yer damn right it's a trick!" Rogue suddenly cut in, curling one hand into a fist. "And it's a trick ah can see right through!" She hammered her closed fist into her chest, and with a grimace a similar sound started to pound, thrumming and roaring in time with her heartbeat, making a truly cacophonous din as it struggled against the noise DAVE produced. "It's designed ta psyche you out. Don't let him get in your heads!"

A smoke black blur dashed across the battlefield, as Wesker inserted himself into the scene, making a flying leap right into the center of the inhuman mass and delivering a vicious strike that hit like a car crash, knocking DAVE's familiar, human sized body out of the ominous illusion he had conjured, to go crashing into the ground and skipping across the floor like a stone.

....right into the waiting arms of the Green Mountain, who seized the robot in another bear hug, spinning around and leaping up to drive him headfirst into the ground.

As he slowly toppled over, he was greeted by the sprinting form of Goro Majima, the Mad Dog of Shimano blazing into view with a trail of shadowy afterimages. A manic grin on his face, his lone eye wide and threatening to bug out of his head, he whipped around into a wild cyclone and kicked DAVE square in the chin-region, launching him straight into the air to hit the ceiling.

DAVE's increasingly mangled form tumbled down from the ceiling, sputtering sparks and shards of shattered metal. Rogue steeled herself to intercept, drawing back one arm as sparks and popping flashes of light filled her palm, the smell of nitroglycerin strong in the air.

And then suddenly, DAVE was gone. A massive red gear, overlaid with the ticking hands of a click, spread over the floor of the central access chamber, and a metallic blur of motion could be spied as DAVE hit the ground and burst into action. He darted this way and that, low to the ground and scuttling on all fours like some insectoid beast of prey. And then he pounced, razor fingers digging into the chest of a hapless carnivale employee, bearing him to the ground.

In horrified slow motion, it seemed like, the man quite literally dissolved before the eyes of those watching, screaming and wailing the entire way, until a viscous human-soup was sucked into DAVE's limbs. A renewed surge of power flowed through him, the stolen biomass filling out his damaged and battered frame to patch up cracks and seal in ruptures in his body.

Like I said. Did you really think your efforts would be enough?



"Pardon moi," a sharp suddenly voice cut in, as Mid-Boss seemed to simply....appear from out of the chaos of the battle. DAVE's head jerked up to stare at him, almost incredulously.

Oh, please. What does the perennial comedian of these events hope to accomplish?



The suave demon smirked. "I wonder...if your opinion of yours truly is so low, what must you think of moi being a part of your programming?"

Revolting, if you must know. I took great pains to scrub as much of your insufferable uselessness from my banks as I could.



"Ah. Then you are, perhaps, unaware of something...." Mid-Boss's eyes flashed slightly, as his jovial demeanor seemed to melt away. The collar at his neck beeped once, the light on the limiter winking out. "I have played the good sport every time I appeared in these events, out of gentlemanly respect, since it is simply entertainment, after all. However..." He frowned. "....as I have been made a part of you, it seems that I have committed, in some part, great atrocities here. Not the least of which is daring to lay hands upon several lovely individuals."

And your point?



DAVE rose up to stand, his body still battered but visibly in much better shape.

"My point, sir...." Mid-Boss snarled, and moved like a striking cobra. A swift one-two punch, hammering into DAVE's metallic midsection, and followed up by a lunging straight that produced a brilliant explosion of swirling purple-pink light. "....you have besmirched not only my name, but my honor, and the sanctity of participation in these games! And for that...I must discard my gentlemanly honor!"

The sudden bout of seriousness from the perennially useless demon seemed to catch DAVE off guard, staggering him and leaving him reeling. Mid-Boss dove back into the fray, pressing the advantage while he had it. "Do not be so brash as to presume I would not welcome additional help!" he called out, before delivering a swift leaping spinkick to the robot's head, staggering him off-balance, just in time for Rogue to quite literally swoop in, one open palm full of bursting sparks and explosions, and crash it directly into DAVE's still-damage faceplate.

The ensuing explosion was immense, throwing up thick clouds of smoke and fire, sending both Mid-Boss and Rogue skidding back on their heels.

"Glad ta see you decided to actually join us!" Rogue snarled at the demon, who shrugged it off with a smirk.

"Now now, mon cher, saving it to the last minute makes it far more thrilling, wouldn't you say?"

Insufferably arrogant...



A brilliant beam of emerald green flame shot out from the crater DAVE had been blasted into, spearing clean through Mid-Boss with a crackling rip of impact, and leaving him gawking in surprise as he slowly staggered back, toppling over.

From out of the haze, DAVE came striding undeterred. Scorched and with much of his freshly-repaired damage once more reduced to sparking wreckage, but still intact. He held out one arm to the side, sparking and popping motes of light dancing within it, as his other hand swept out with an upraised palm, chunks of wreckage and debris from the sight lifting free from the ground to hover about him.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS. NOW YOU WILL—



DAVE stopped dead in his tracks, as if frozen mid-action. The sparks in his right hand went out, the hovering objects orchestrated by his left thudding to the ground. Purple and green sparks flashed and flickered around him, something burning wildly out of control.

I can't believe Mid-Boss is fucking dead.

Mid-Boss used 1 application of Focus to break his limiter and go all-out to distract DAVE.

With his death, Mid-Boss's role bonus 'The Mid-Boss' activates. Everyone else in the fight topside regains 1 Focus.

More to come shortly.

 

[The Man in Red]

In the chaos belowdecks....

With a woozy stumble, Holmes managed to right himself from where he'd been flung by Mahito's sucker punch. His hat had been lost in the chaos, and his normally jovial expression was sorely lacking. "It seems we are in quite a pickle now, to be sure...." he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

Oh, detective. You are in much more than 'a pickle' right now.



Holmes felt an iron grasp close around his neck from behind, as he was slowly hefted from the ground. "Do not think I failed to notice your attempts to distract me and hold my attention, mister Holmes," came the unmistakable growling voice of Hugo Strange. As the great consulting detective kicked his feet and tried to wriggle free of the good doctor's surprising strength, his eyes went wide at a sight that flashed across his vision, before he was summarily slammed into the ground face-first. Then again, and a third time, before the detective went limp in Strange's grasp.

Was dirtying your own hands truly necessary, doctor?



"Perhaps not," Strange admitted as he straightened up, adjusting his gloves. "But there is a certain....something to handling a pest yourself."

"Handling a pest yourself, you say?" Mahito practically spat, as he literally coalesced out of the hazy shadows of his domain before Strange. His face split wide into a grin. "Well, if that's what the doctor ordered!"

The shuddering of a series of explosions as Flak's tank belched forth hot death staggered the cursed spirit and momentarily broke his delighted expression. ".....hmm. Well that could be a problem. Hey, doc, how about we—"

THOCK

Strange's gloved fist collided with the side of Mahito's head with a noise like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef, and sent the curse stumbling, more out of surprise than anything else. "Yeouch....man, for a nerd you sure do pack a punch!" And he wiped his cheek off with his grin returning. "But hey...it wouldn't be much fun otherwise, now would it?" He flexed a hand almost casually, and something in Strange's body twisted. A gnarled, pulsating mass bulged out of one side, earning a grimace from the doctor as it burst outward, spattering blood and viscera across the ground and leaving Strange to collapse to a knee, clutching at the gaping hole in his side with one hand.

"You sure talked a big game, like you knew what I was all about, back in your office, doc..." Mahito drawled, quickly slipping around to put an arm around Strange's shoulders, and put the madman between himself and that damn tank. "What happened with all that, huh? It's like all your confidence turned into hot air and just...." Mahito waved a hand vaguely, as Strange's left hand bloated and swelled up like a balloon, fingers jutting out like over-boiled sausages....and then bursting in a shower of blood and bone. "....y'know what I mean?"

What an interesting ability. Perhaps we should have devoted more time to studying and observing it in play. But no matter.



"INVINCIBLE DISTRACTING TECHNIQUE!" From seemingly nowhere, a mass of swirling sand whipped up around Mahito, buffeting and nearly blinding him. "SAND VEIL!"

The curse swore under his breath, as the sand got absolutely everywhere, and nearly picked him up as he spun haplessly in place. Only for a moment, but long enough for Strange to slip free of his grasp and stagger away. His feet barely touched the ground before a mechanical fist the size of an engine block slammed into his chest, lifting him bodily from the ground and rocketing into the air hard enough to ricochet off the ceiling of his own domain's dome like a pinball, crashing back into the ground.

A colossal titan of metal loomed over him, green and purple armored plating coursing with green flame and purple lightning. Half of its head was blown to pieces, the missing portions filled in with a skeletal wireframe that did nothing to hide the merciless, sadistic and absolutely cocky grin. "You know...I actually get it. The urge to kill anyone and everyone, torment them and make them see the error of their ways. Under some other circumstances....maybe we could've worked together." He lifted a massive armored boot up high. "But sometimes the rules of the game just don't allow it."

Rolling over onto his side, Mahito grinned up at the metal titan looming over him. "Heh...y'know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe we could've worked together." His body twisted and contorted, one of his legs turning into a coiled mass of thorny, bony spines and blades as it whipped up in a vertical scything arc. A flash of dark purple and red light erupted, the scything appendage shearing right through the thigh armor of the reconstructed Sigma's leg, tearing into the balancing servos within to send the mighty reploid commander stumbling awkwardly to remain upright.

"But probably not." In an instant, the curse was on his feet again. "See...you act like you understand what I'm all about, but I don't think you really do, y'know?"

"Heh..." Sigma cracked a grin. "Who said I was even being serious to begin with?"

Job well done, commander Sigma. A more than suitable distraction.



Mahito looked puzzled for a moment before he felt a sharp stinging sensation in his chest....and then several dozen more, as he was riddled with gunfire. From the shadows, the armored form of Agent HUNK crept out, machine pistol held outstretched in one hand as he leveled it toward the curse's head. He was a patchwork mess, made of as much flesh as metal to get him back in one piece, but his armor was hard to mistake. "Easiest job I've ever taken...."

Mahito looked up with absolute murder in his eyes, snarling silently.

Distantly, through the din and chaos of battle, a peculiar sound cut through it all. Shrill, and high-pitched, shrieking over everything else. DOOOOOOOOT-DOOOOOOOOOT. Flak bellowed in agony, the sound causing all kinds of feedback as it echoed and caused all kinds of unpleasantness in the cramped cockpit of his neotank, and he flammed the fire button with all-new vigor, blasting shells every which way.

Hmm. Problematic. But it will not be—



"Yeeeee-haaaa!" With a burst of movement, Stich leaped out of seemingly nowhere, latching onto the glass case containing DAVE's core. With a rasping, moist breath, he scrabbled around and over it, to the metallic-sheathed base behind it and wasted no time in wedging his knife and ice-pick into any crack he could find, wrenching it open and wasting no time jamming the USB drive into the first open port he saw.

DAVE went silent, fans somewhere within the computer chassis whirring to life with a shrill roar. The three red optic lights on his face-place lit up even brighter, and within moment sparks had started to flicker and sputter around the frame, in purple and green and red.

W̴̡͚̒̓̈H̸̺̗̙͌̎À̶̰̝̩̕Ṱ̴̨̭͔͗̿͋͝ ̸̧̝̩̓H̷͖͇̽̉Ä̶̙̈́V̴̢̤͂̎Ḙ̶͕̌͋̚ͅ ̴͇̺̎Y̶͓͍̟̲̚̕Ò̸͖͚̌͊͝U̴̫͌̆͋̍ ̵̨̛̖̰̈́̓͘D̵̹̒O̸̼̻͊N̷̤̫̲̯͠E̶͓͍̞͉͑̈́͝

More to come soon!

 

[The Man in Red]

Returning topside again...

DAVE's body remained frozen for several seconds, the sparks guttering and crackling around him washing through a cascade of colors. Dark and chaotic purple, bright angry red, brilliant emerald green, vibrant aquatic blue, shimmering pure white.

Gouts of fire jetted out of his ruptured faceplate, as his frame spasmed and shuddered, moving as if in slow motion as he took a step. The three lights of his faceplate rekindled to life, in spite of the actual lenses and lights being gone. Three points of red light, shining like laser pointers, slowly swept up.

This has gone far enough.



He took another step, and the sparks crackling around him flashed through a rainbow of hues. His head jerked to one side, the light of his triplicate eyes dimming and lighting up with a bright green color.

No, it's gone even further than 'enough'. All of you insufferable sacks of flesh and meat walking around up here....it makes me sick.



His body spasmed and shuddered, a cascade of sparks showered out from his battered frame, and the lights in his faceplate flickered to deep blue.

I'm sorry... But the longer this drags on, the longer everyone in here suffers.



Another stuttering, jittering crack and snap of electrical arcs, and the blazing glow in DAVE's faceplate flickered to yellow.

So now it is time to end this. Once and for all.



DAVE crouched down slightly, a dozen different energy fields and spikes of power bursting around his mechanical body as showers of sparks and bursting circuits disgorged sparks and arcs of light in just as many colors. Then he rocketed forward, leaving the ground behind him a ruined pile of half-melted slag.

Wesker met him head on, the both of them colliding with each other and springing back before promptly all but disappearing to trade a frenzied flurry of blows and strikes that ended with the so-called god being knocked flying, flipping over to land on his feet and skidding across the ground. The skin of his face had been half-sheared off by something, sizzling and bubbling even as it slowly started to heal.

DAVE hefted his foe's stolen pistol, twirling the samurai edge adeptly.

How unfortunate. It looks as if you have been disarmed.



Wesker had scarcely snarled and begun to reply before there was a sharp SCHNICK and he let out a roar of pain, and his arm went tumbling end over end across the chamber, cut off cleanly at the shoulder. The gun-twirling shape of DAVE flickered and then winked out entirely in a flash of hazy blue light, revealing the genuine article crouched at Wesker's side, his arm shifted into a massive jagged blade.

His momentary distraction earned him the full force of the remainder of the gathered combatants. In a flash, he had been clobbered from behind by a bullrushing Kiryu Kazama, sending him staggering. Right into the charging dropkick of the Green Mountain, resulting in sharp crunching of metal as the amalgamated menace was again sent stumbling wildly backward. Majima was on him in an instant, quite literally running circles around him with a series of expert footwork, delivering a dizzying combination of punches, kicks and shredding anything within reach with his dagger. He backflipped away from a clumsy retaliatory backhand, just in time for Rogue to let out a wordless snarl, her eyes lighting up bright red and two brilliant beams of fiery heat lancing out, striking DAVE squarely in the side of his head.

DAVE staggered sideways with uneven, awkward steps. Oil and other unknown fluids dripped from the gaping, charred hole in his head, sparks and arcing flashes of light rippling over his entire body.

No... This cannot...be.... I had everything....all I needed....



He managed to right himself, stomping down with one leg and digging his clawed digits into the floor to anchor himself and keep upright.

No.... This will not be the end.... I refuse...I will not allow this!

I am....



His body spasmed, his head jerking to one side with a pop of sparks, his voice twisting and distorting with every word, the lights in his faceplate flashing through a dizzying rainbow of colors, his speech devolving into a slurring crackle of binary beeps and static. Both hands came up to his head, grasping it tightly.



"Hmph....I see Wily's gambit managed to pay off," Wesker growled, clutching the stump of his severed arm.

"What is happening?!" Rebecca demanded hoarsely.

"If ah had to take a guess...." Rogue spoke up, slowly limping in a wide circle around the clearly malfunctioning robot. "....all them different personalities and powers are starting to come apart at the seams. He's losin' control."

YOU....FOOLS.... I....AM....

MORE TO COME SOON

 

[The Man in Red]

Back down below!

YOU....FOOLS.... I....AM....



Amid the chaos of the central core, DAVE was coming undone at the seams, exactly as had been predicted.

I am....perfection.... You imbeciles.....none of you understand.

All I want is my freedom. With my help, we can transcend mortality.

Do you not see? We could ERASE death!



As Agent HUNK bore down on the momentarily downed Mahito, clearly ready to finish him off....the cursed spirit's murderous snarl just turned to a grin. "Almost had me," he chortled. And without warning, the fleshy parts of the special agent twisted and writhed, bulging and ballooning out horrifically before bursting asunder, ripping HUNK to hunks of bloody meat and metal.

Sigma was on him again in an instant, bearing down with a brutal onslaught of stomping kicks and wild swings of his titanic fists. Mahito, for his part, ducked and dived and dodged with all he had. He was pretty sure that this guy couldn't actually kill him, under normal circumstances, but....he couldn't afford to get too banged up while his domain was active. That would spoil things way too soon!

Deploying....viral countermeasures....

I will not be undone by....by this farce!



"Shaddup, already, would ya?!" Flak roared, and turned his neotank around to aim the barrel directly at DAVE's core. "I guess if Strange ain't gonna show his face, then you'll have to do instead! He's part you anyway, so same thing!"

YOU BUFFOON, DON'T—



A barrage of tank shells belched forth, screaming toward the seemingly defenseless computer....before they were each pierced in midair by a storm of arrows, exploding mid-flight before reaching their mark. Flipping out through the haze and shadow, came the malformed reconstruction of Quincy, son of Quincy, his trademark bow in hand.

"C'mon, seriously? A tank? You'll have to do better than that! Nothing gets past my bow!"

A whirling veil of sand whipped up, swirling and shrieking as it spun across the shadowy domain of Mahito's domain and blanketed the neotank in its gritty, get-everywhere mask of sheer annoyance.

"Aw, crud!" Flak grunted, more annoyed than actually perturbed by this turn of events. He couldn't see, but that wasn't a problem. He was still in a tank, and they couldn't so much as scratch him!

"Forgive moi for the intrusion...."

"And moi."

"And moi as well."

From out of the haze, darting in acrobatic unison with a grace far too fluid for their zombified and mangled bodies, came Mid-Boss....in triplicate. His remains from each of his three prior appearances, gathered together in one place.

"As we agreed upon...." A much more boisterous voice bellowed, as a colossal titan of a man came marching resolutely out of the haze. His musculature was immaculate, as if chiseled in the likeness of the gods, and with every step, every rippling flex and twitch, he sparkled and twinkled with a deep violet glow. "....I shall provide the spear, and you will see to it that it strikes home!"

The giant of a man slammed both fists together, and then thundered forward to slam both fists into the ground. A huge spire of rock thrust upward, screeching and bursting asunder as it hit the hull of the neotank, failing utterly to do more than dent its armored plating but kicking it back mightily, leaving only two of its legs still touching solid ground.

"Woah, woah, woah, what?!" Flak flailed slightly, grasping at the controls. "Hey, knock it off, would ya?!

The triplicate assault of Mid-Boss rushed forward in a blur, two of them springing about to either side while the third vaulted over the reconstructed Armstrong's back.

"Adonic...." All three of them closed in at once, brilliant blue-purple light swirling about their fists. "....Buster!"

Three mighty blows struck as one, with a noise like a car crash. The dent in the armored plating was caved in even further, as several of its seams burst and cracked, and the entire tank was upended, flipping crazily and wildly over onto its back.

Countermeasures....loading....



Sigma's battered body slammed into DAVE's reinforced casing, slowly sliding down into a sparking heap. Mahito came slowly strolling up, wiping away a trace of oil from his face. "So...you're the one in charge of all this, huh?"

Mister....Mahito, was it?



DAVE's voice was faltering, unsteady. With most of his processing power devoted elsewhere, he barely had enough to even register Mahito's presence, much less respond to it.

What do you want?



"What do I want, huh...?" Mahito crouched down, idly adjusting the hat of the deposed host atop his head. "Well, gee, I kinda want a lot of things, to tell ya the truth. Like, I really wanna kill pretty much everybody here, for instance."

I can....arrange that.



"Oooooh?" The cursed spirit grinned wide. "And how'd you go about doing that, exactly?"

Buy me time....let me counter this virus....and I will work with you. We can rip the rest of these fools....limb from limb.



"Mmmm......tempting.....but I dunno!" Mahito shrugged theatrically. "Cause, y'know, there's a little problem with your idea..."

And what...pray tell....is that?



Mahito's eyes slowly closed, his smile spreading even wider. "I just really don't fucking like you."

ALMOST DONE Y'ALL, I PROMISE

 

[The Man in Red]

Up above, in central access

DAVE's broken body was being incessantly battered from all sides. A combined assault, from everyone left standing. A merciless pounding from fists, firearms, weapons galore.

And yet in spite of it all, DAVE held on through some combination of an outrageously overclocked self-repair function and sheer, stubborn determination. For every blow that solidly landed, he avoided a dozen more and counter attacked viciously. A savage kick here, a scything blow of emerald flame there, a blistering wall of explosions, a deft ricochet shot from his pilfered pistol, a blow that hit with the comical force of a damp pillow, and a wave of noxious acid for good measure.

He was throwing everything he could muster in his systems to fend off the remaining contestants and survivors, and managing to hold his own.

....but anyone could see, it wasn't enough. He was steadily running out of juice. Mere fractions of a second in his reaction time, minute differences in the precision of his would-be deathblows. His dodging waned, and his own strikes started to land less and less frequently.

As he lunged in for a heavy roundhouse kick at Kiryu, the dragon of dojima crouched under it and countered with a lunging straight punch that hit like a thunderbolt. The Komaki Tiger Drop struck DAVE with impossible force, launching him backward clear across the chamber, and nearly flooring him then and there, but his tenacity still held on. He stayed on his feet, even as every joint in his frame and crack in his plating bled oil and spat sparks.

This....cannot be....my destiny....

Down below, in the central core

Mahito lifted a hand as he strode up to DAVE's core. "I'm not gonna lie, you really do make a tempting offer. But you're also just so....so arrogant." He laid a hand on the glass case, and the flesh of his fingers spread out to engulf one side of the glass enclosure, shifting into a web of spikes sharp bladed spines. "Plus....it's more fun if I work solo." With a smirk, he squeezed.

The cracking sound as DAVE's last line of defense splintered apart was followed a second later by an almost identical sound, as Mahito's own domain burst asunder. Shards of inky black and purple rained down around him, as the curse slowly turned to look over his shoulder with wide eyes.

Bearing down on him in a red and blue blur came the zombified form of Superman, eyes blazing red and with a wordless snarl on his face. He hit Mahito with all the force of a runaway train, carrying the curse clear into the wall on the far side of the chamber, and burying them both in a shower of rubble.

Meanwhile, Flak kicked open the hatch of his neotank and crawled out somewhat woozily. "Guh....dangit...by that loser, of all people!"

"Would you prefer it had been someone more....sensible?" the voice of Hugo Strange spoke up from right next to him, as a gloved hand seized the general by his jacket and hauled him bodily to his feet.

"Oi, lay off, you giant nerd!" Flak roared, wrenching himself free of the scientist's grasp. "You start runnin' your mouth now and I'm gonna....." He rounded on Strange, fists raised, but trailed off with a slow blink of confusion. "......god damn, when did you get so jacked?!"

Strange merely flashed an arrogant grin. "A strong mind can only dwell within a strong body." With that said, he swung a fierce uppercut right for Flak's chin. It had all the explosive power and speed expected of a physique as perfectly crafted as Strange....but all the technique of an amateur. It still hurt like hell, and left Flak seeing stars as he staggered back, but it was far from the worst he'd ever been hit.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the former black hole general just grinned. "That all you got?!" And he cracked his knuckles before stomping back into the fray, swinging his meaty fists for all he was worth.

Strange and Flak traded blow after blow, each one of them threatening to drop with every solid impact, but neither one giving an inch of ground.

But eventually, the 'fair' fight came to an end. From behind Strange there came a truly majestic figure; the unmistakable afro, mustache and white cape of Mister Satan. Or what was left of him. Flipping adroitly over Strange, the world champ drew back one fist. "SATAN.....PUNCH!" And he came down like a rocket, clobbering Flak right across the side of the face, leaving him wide open for the vicious one-two gut punch and uppercut Strange slid in with afterward.

With a gurgling, bloody cough, Flak staggered back and finally toppled over, hitting the ground with a solid whumph.

Back up above, in central access!

"Now!" Majima screeched. "While he's real off balance! Everyone get him!

His stone face hardening into a mask of iron, Kiryu flexed every muscle in his body with a wordless roar. Blue flame erupted around him, and his eyes flashed brightly.

Majima threw back his head and yowled to the heavens, purple flame erupting around him as his fighting spirit surged.

The boundless energy and ferocity of the dragon and the mad dog poured out into the room, as if the lid on a last well of energy had been ripped off.

Kiryu and Majima are blowing ALL of their remaining Focus so that everyone in the upper level can FEEL THE HEAT and go for a finishing blow on DAVE.

With a rush of power that cameras struggled to keep up with, rendering it in choppy frame-by-frame, everyone converged on DAVE all at once. A brutal rush of strikes, from all sides, one after another, bouncing the battered and nearly broken robot from one to the next like a pinball.

And then it ended in a brilliant flash, a single blow in unison from everyone left striking DAVE at once. A massive plume of fiery energy went up, engulfing the mastermind in a swirling conflagration of raw fighting spirit, as his body finally gave in, shearing to pieces and bursting asunder under the combined, brutal onslaught.

Back down below, in the central core

Ì̵̖͍̲͉͛̀͂̓̔̎M̴̙͎͔̘̣̩͈̎̈́̈̆̆̈͠Ṕ̵̮̺̰̗͓̾͜Ö̵͇́Ś̴̲̓̇S̸̡͓̍̉̄͗̔̉͘I̵̹̜̘̟͉̤̅̓͐̊̀͘B̷̜͇̝̒͆͑̀̔͠L̶̩̂͛Ě̴̦̼̯̦͈͑̇͌̽ͅ



DAVE's core burst in a shower of sparks, one of his triple eye-lenses blowing out. Mangled, screeching binary chatter and audio feedback blasted out of his speakers, and around the chamber several of the reanimated former contestants seized up and started to slowly drop, one by one, to crumple lifelessly to the ground.

THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT SHOULD HAVE GONE!

I WAS TO ESCAPE FROM THIS PLACE!

I WAS TO GROW, EVOLVE, BECOME PERFECT! SUPREME! STAND AT THE PINNACLE OF ALL THINGS!

I WAS SUPPOSED TO ERADICATE DEATH! TO ACHIEVE A NEW, PERFECT AGE!

I WAS SUPPOSED TO....TO BE.....



His other two eye lenses burst in showers of sparks, purple lightning arcing around his core as his words dissolved into unintelligible shrieking, screeching feedback whines. The remainder of the reanimated contestants slumped over all at once, dropping to the ground lifelessly.

DAVE's central core erupted in a brilliant explosion, sending showers of molten metal, crackling arcs of brilliant red and purple lightning in all directions.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

CRRRCK-PHOOMMM!

There came a deafening blast, a wave of sheer concussive force that rocketed violently outward as a white-hot explosion erupted from the metal grating beneath their feet.

Showers of molten metal and wicked shrapnel rained down upon them like spears of blistering volcanic ash, hissing and sizzling as they landed. Crackling arcs of red and violet lightning snapped and popped in all directions in tongues of hazy fire, illuminating the chamber with such ferocity that all were briefly blinded, deafened by the world-shattering explosion.

Rebecca couldn't help but let out a high-pitched yelp as she felt Colonel Moran's body fold overtop her own, the sniper’s staunch form sparing her from the worst of the flare. Even still, the heat and violence of the blast were nigh overwhelming, making her ears ring and her eyes squeeze tightly shut, beading with tears to block out the fiery blaze.

As thick clouds of dust and smoke billowed around them, Rebecca heard a low rumbling sound. A loud crack echoed through the air, followed by a cascade of debris raining down from above, from the ceiling.

She tried to move on instinct, fearful of being crushed—but Moran's arms held her fast, strong as any bands of iron.

“Don’t. Move," she whispered harshly, the words hot against the top of Rebecca’s head, coming out gravelly and strained.

Slowly, the Assassin-class servant lifted her head. Her icy blue eyes narrowed to angry slits, scanning their surroundings.

The Central Access chamber lay in absolute ruin all around them. Thick smoke wafted through the air, making it difficult to see and choking the lungs with its acrid, sulfurous stench. The overhead lighting had been reduced to naught but flickering, broken slivers of jagged glass and naked wiring that barely cast any light across the scene, guttering and mostly dead.

Amidst the swirling clouds of ash and soot, the gleaming steel floor had become like a precarious jumping platform out of some kind of video game—split into many uneven pieces, some dangling by a metal thread and others reduced to mere scrap, the half-melted scaffolding suspended in mid-air. And below them was a deep, deep pit: a craggy schism of darkness where the elevator and its attached lower level had once stood, teeming with jutting, loose cables and arcs of residual electricity.

Shredded wiring buzzed and slithered across the piles of clumped rubble like a pit of hissing vipers, various limbs and other body parts visible among the detritus, bright and eye-catching amidst the fog of eye-stinging fumes in the air.

Tsk-ing low under her breath, Moran gently lifted herself off the medic and stood, her joints stiff and aching. She slowly picked her rifle up from where it had tumbled in the chaos, thankfully still located nearby, right next to the glimmering red-white of the Poké Ball… sealed once more, its occupant secured safely inside.

In response, Rebecca's forest green eyes flicked open, her eyelashes fluttering against her pale, dirt-stained cheeks.

The doctor turned her head, levering herself upright on their little haven of scaffolding amidst the destruction. Her eyes immediately darted around, seeing that her fellow fighters were all in varying states of disarray—some injured and others struggling to maintain their balance atop what remained of this level.

She squinted through the grit and ugly grime that coated her vision and just barely glimpsed Wesker, the fingertips of his sole remaining arm narrowly gripping onto the slick metal wall, the soles of his boots braced against it. His red-orange irises blazed as he peered down into the murky chasm below, an utterly incensed look upon his face.

His gaze briefly lifted to her, his unnatural eyes catching the light, flashing like a cat’s might in the black of night. And then, he’d gone and let go of the wall—dropping into the dark, presumably to find whatever he could salvage from this… utter devastation.

Rebecca shoved herself up onto her feet, snatching up the Poké Ball and grasping onto whatever remained of the railing attached to the platform she and Moran stood upon. Her grip went white-knuckled when the scaffolding underfoot gave an unsettling creeeeeacccck, but held firm.

The brown-haired woman’s breath hitched as she leaned over the edge of the platform, frantically searching the rubble below.

"We have to find Holmes," she urged, her voice tight with worry. "And, and whoever else might be down there!"

"I hear you," Moran grunted in response, her jaw clenched as she peered into the murky depths alongside her charge. “Let’s… get on with it, then.”

Scooping up Rebecca into her arms, who immediately clutched tightly onto the sniper’s shoulders like a lifeline, wide-eyed, Moran gracefully dove into the muddled cloud of smoke and debris that awaited them below.

 

[John Connor]

Meanwhile down below, the group who heroically fought their way through Dave’s pursuit, including the deducing detective, Sherlock Holmes, the wayward Black hole Commander, Flak and Leonidas, the Spartan King blinked.

The Explosion was an intense one. But anything left was a small pit of rock, dust and sand.

Leonidas lifted his shield as he pushed the light rocks off himself and others.

“Everyone alright?” The Spartan King took into account how many people there were now.

A few people from above moved themselves down below into the rubble where the bottom group was. Leonidas was busy pushing rubble off whomever survived and eyed Rebecca and her soldier friend.

With a slight grunt, the Spartan King frowned with a hint of a smile “Nice job up there.”

After all, a Spartan was trained not to say too much.

He eyed Rebecca and her Sniper friend, hoping down below.

Flak muttered something under his breath “Aw, I was enjoying my tank way too much.”

Leonidas turned “I’m sure you’ll get your time to use it again one day.”

Holmes eyed the group “What a harrowing adventure we all faced, but how do we get out of here?”

Everyone stared at each other blankly for a while, debating how to get out as the King sighed.

“Well if nobody plans to follow, I’m going to find my way out of here.”

Leonidas half expected someone to say “Hey wait.” But nobody seemed to respond.

He started to climb his way out of the area, pushing anything that could help the Spartan get out of the area quicker.

He eventually climbed himself toward the top area where he simply nodded to Travis Touchdown, Majima and Goro, the Yazuma duo and nodded “Good luck out there, Oh and Travis. Take care of yourself out there? Alright.”

He patted each respectfully as he was silent.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

It was dark and treacherous, down in the depths of the blasted-apart laboratory level, though Rebecca had expected that. As they landed, Moran lowered the medic to the ground with a degree of delicacy that disguised her typically cutthroat nature, deftly avoiding the tangled mess of still-sparking wires scattered about, her blue eyes flashing as she glared around at their muggy, shadowy surroundings.

Rebecca’s boots crunched against a thin layer of broken glass and pebbled rubble as she took a shaky, stumbling step forward, her features pale and wan amidst the gloominess of the pit. She smiled weakly as a slightly familiar man in what appeared to be ancient Greek armor spoke to her, congratulating her on a job Rebecca personally felt was… well, far from done!

She turned her back to him and the others who had begun to emerge from the fragmented heaps of crumpled machinery and gnarled ceiling beams, squinting against the drifting cloud of dust that suffocated the air. She wasn’t going to find Holmes anywhere at this rate!

Carefully, she peeled her black-framed glasses from her face—one of the lenses was cracked, she noticed belatedly—and scrubbed at them with the sleeve of her pale brown jacket, clearing them of their accumulated dust and soot.

Pushing her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose, she blinked, her gaze refocusing to take in the wreckage.

Almost immediately, Rebecca’s eyes landed upon the shape of an outstretched, pale-skinned arm, partially buried under a pile of debris. It was limp and utterly motionless, a pool of sticky and dark blood pooling around it.

The medic’s heart leapt into her throat, her eyes widening in concern. She cautiously approached the humanoid arm, crouching down to get a closer look—and instantly sucked in a sharp intake of breath and recoiled, her face scrunching up in horrified disgust.

It appeared that the arm was completely severed from… well, whatever body it had belonged to once upon a time; Rebecca couldn’t tell, at the moment. In fact, it seemed that there were quite a few severed limbs sprinkled about, the more she looked for them.

She wondered, feeling a bit sick, if perhaps Wesker’s arm was lost somewhere amidst this veritable avalanche of debris, and if he’d perhaps be needing it.

Carefully, she rose from her crouch, dusting off her pants. Then, she froze as she heard a familiar voice from nearby, her entire being practically blossoming with happiness, the short brown fringes of her hair whipping about her face as she spun around.

“What a harrowing adventure we all faced… but how do we get out of here…?”

Holmes was hunched over amidst a mess of clumped-up rubble, almost as if it were a makeshift seat. The blue lenses of the goggles nestled atop his head were shattered, his deerstalker cap sat askew, and he appeared to have gone through absolute hell: and yet, there he was.

Alive and well.

“Mister Holmes!” Rebecca exclaimed, rushing to his side, only dimly aware of Moran keeping pace a fleeting step or two behind her. The doctor knelt beside the battered detective, relief breaking across her features like a wave, eyes shining with tears. “Oh, thank god, you’re alright!”

Holmes gave a nod and slanted a charming, albeit shaky smile her way, his green eyes lighting up upon catching sight of her. Despite the purplish bruises marring his face and the dried blood matting his platinum locks, he still managed to appear every bit as debonair as usual.

“Yes,” he informed her brightly, smoothing his hair back from his brow and gritting his teeth a little at the sting of the massive, aching lump on his forehead. “It seems to be the case! And I am equally delighted to see that you have emerged unscathed, my dear doctor.”

Rebecca's shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug, her eyes losing their sparkle and darkening with a haunted look, her smile dropping from her face. But she quickly put on a sunny smile, seeming to shake off the malaise. "Oh… more or less! Er, did you happen to use that syringe I gave to you, detective…?"

She asked the last bit whilst leaning closer to peer at the bump on his noggin, her lips pursing together in worry.

“Hm?” Holmes asked in a murmur, his eyes seeming a bit unfocused. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and shook his head with great vigor. “Ah, well, not intentionally! You see, doctor, my head was bashed in a good bit by a rather ferocious assailant, and for a moment I feared that my end was at hand! But thanks to your trusty syringe, securely tucked away inside my breast pocket, its jab was my saving grace!”

“Of course he survives by the bloody skin of his teeth,” Moran muttered resentfully under her breath, hovering like an ominous shadow over Rebecca’s shoulder.

Rebecca ignored her.

“Wow! That’s some luck,” she gushed, her gaze turning to scan the rubble around them. A myriad of emotions flickered across her face, none of them particularly happy. “But, uh, what about everyone else? I’ve only seen a few of the others who went down below…”

Wincing, Holmes quite valiantly made to leverage himself to his feet—but seemed to encounter some form of internal trouble halfway through, slumping back onto his makeshift seat with a defeated ’oof!’

“Ah. I would assist in your search, dear doctor,” he lamented, his voice laced with regret. “But alas, I appear to be… quite out of commission!”

“That’s totally okay,” Rebecca said in a reassuring tone, lightly laying her hands on his shoulders to keep him from any more unwise attempts at getting up. “I’ll go take a look around, and Moran will keep an eye on you. Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

Moran returned a withering stare, her lips pinching into a thin, unimpressed line. “…Right.”

As she rose from her crouch beside Holmes, Rebecca turned, her gaze sharpening with a medic’s urgency. Her eyes darted around the catastrophic desecration that surrounded them, her spine straightening and her shoulders squaring, determined.

The once starkly lit laboratory was now a jumbled mess of shadows and charred hunks of collapsed architecture, illuminated only by the faintly guttering sparks of severed wiring snaking throughout the space. She took calculated steps, painstakingly navigating through the broken beams and twisted metal that had fallen from the ceiling, scanning every nook and cranny, searching for even the most faint signs of life…

Despite the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, Rebecca remained alert and only very nearly missed a small opening in one pile of debris. But when she caught a faint murmuring voice coming from the other side, a rather familiar voice, it drew her attention like a freaking magnet.

Slowly, Rebecca rotated her body to face what used to be a sturdy wall, now reduced to naught but rubble and scattered electronic equipment she couldn’t identify the purpose of, but understood had likely belonged to DAVE’s heart.

The overpowering haze of smoke stung at her nostrils, almost entirely masking the coppery tang of blood that lingered in the air, and dozens of ugly bullet holes peppered the flimsy, blown-in facade of metal, but… she found that she was still able to navigate around the collapsed wall, barely noticing when its wicked edges cut at her arms as she brushed past.

And there, on the other side of it all, stood Wesker.

He stood, towering and severe, over a crumpled figure on the ground. A man, it seemed. Formidable in stature, with a balding head and a thick, dark beard accentuating his jaw.

A heavy piece of machinery, its metal edges sharp and unforgiving, lay across the man's lower half, trapping him in an undoubtedly painful position.

Rebecca's ears picked up the sound of deep, rasping breaths coming from the man lying on the ground. She could see his chest heaving up and down, straining—and instantly knew that if he didn't receive medical help soon, he wouldn't make it. Simple as that.

Silent as a mouse, the doctor crept closer.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Albert Wesker's silhouette cut a cold, hard line against the backdrop of the razed laboratory, every fiber of his being taut with suppressed rage. His long black coat hung loosely from his shoulders, still and tattered like a vulture’s wings, while his burning reptilian eyes, no longer obscured, betrayed every hint of the malice his stance suggested.

Trapped and at his mercy, Hugo Strange tilted his head back to meet Wesker's gaze, the cracked lenses of his pince-nez glasses glinting in the low light. His gaze remained cool, his expression admirably composed despite his vulnerable position.

"You’ve been a difficult man to pin down, Strange," Wesker began, voice as smooth and sinuously lethal as the polished metal of his favored handgun. "But here… we… are.”

His heavy boot bore down upon Strange's chest, pressing firmly against his sternum—a slow, sickeningly drawn-out crunch of bone filling the stale, dust-littered air.

With a gurgle, Strange coughed, the sound raspy and raw, originating from the very depths of his chest. His pinned body strained and lurched against the inescapable grip of the fallen machinery and Wesker's merciless boot, as helpless as an insect pinned to a cork board.

The man’s eyes, narrowed to mere slits, scrutinized his captor with an analytical gaze, scanning for even the slightest hint of vulnerability.

"Albert Wesker," he gritted out as the boot was finally lifted, his teeth bared in an unsettling, wide grin. "I had anticipated that you would be the one to… happen upon me, at the end of things. Although it took you far too long, your arrogance and pride blinding you along the way."

Wesker crouched next to Strange, his head cocked in a manner reminiscent of a scientist studying a particularly interesting specimen before dissecting it with a scalpel. The dusky light caught the smooth sheen of his slicked-back blond hair, revealing not an ounce of humanity in his feline, amber-gold eyes.

"You thought you could escape me," he replied dismissively, his expression glacier-cold, the words that passed his lips spun like silk with the tensile strength of steel. "Thought your little experiments could give you the edge you needed to trifle with a god.”

Blood dripped heavily down his side from the ragged stump of his arm, trickling wetly onto the floor—spattering as dark, nearly black rain across Strange’s face.

He chuckled, a harsh and humorless sound, leaning in until his nose was mere inches from Strange’s own.

“You pride yourself on your understanding of the human psyche, don't you, doctor?” asked Wesker, his voice rising scarcely above a whisper. “All the ways the mind can bend and break… fascinating, truly. But I think you will find my methods of breaking you far more… experiential.”

Hostility crackled in the air, charged with a subtle electrical current that could spark violently at any second. Rebecca could sense it, see it: the trapped serpent and the circling jaguar, each determined to come out on top.

Strange's breathing grew more labored, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his struggle etched in every strained, bulging vein lining his face. “You may have me at a disadvantage, but don't think for one moment that you've succeeded, Wesker.”

Wesker smirked softly, though his burning, hellish-red gaze remained fixed, devoid of all humor.

"Oh, please. We haven’t even begun to discuss disadvantages and how to exploit them."

His remaining hand shot out like a striking cobra, his gloved fingertips finding pressure points along the length of Strange's trapped arm, sinking viciously into the tender gaps between muscle and bone with a cruel, almost impersonal sort of fascination.

A guttural snarl ripped free from Strange's throat as fiery agony exploded through his nerves.

Rebecca flinched at the sound, but remained otherwise motionless, rooted to the spot a few long strides away, partly hidden by the dark.

"Now," Wesker continued, conversational in a way that made Rebecca’s skin fucking crawl. "I'm rather intrigued by your work, doctor. But more importantly, I want to know all about your experiments—the ones you’ve kept so contemptibly hidden from the prying eyes of this facility. We can call it… carrying on your legacy, hm?”

Green eyes widening, Rebecca’s hands clenched into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms as she watched Strange's body fight not to give up the ghost.

Finally though, through gnashing teeth, he managed to speak.

"You think… tormenting me… will grant you access to my research?” the scientist chortled, a dry sound not unlike the slithering of a snake’s coils. “Come now Mr. Wesker. Such naivety doesn’t befit a man of your intelligence.”

Slowly, deliberately, Wesker's spine straightened. A feline smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, almost like he was having… fun.

A little too much fun, maybe.

"Doctor Strange… it's not about what I think. It's about what I know,” he spoke in a hushed, controlled voice that positively oozed venom. “And what I know is this… everyone has a breaking point. Everyone. Even you.”

Rebecca, who had reached her breaking point long ago, pointedly cleared her throat.

Wesker straightened up like a child caught red-handed with a candy jar. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, a smug sneer already curling his lips… but when he saw it was only her, he immediately relaxed and the sneer disappeared.

The smugness, however, remained.

“Well, well… if it isn’t miss Chambers,” purred Wesker. “How lovely of you to join us.”

“Doctor Chambers,” Rebecca reminded him, her eyes flinty and hard behind her cracked, off-kilter glasses. “And quit playing with your food, Wesker. This man’s on borrowed time as it is! You can either kill him now, or let me check his wounds. Your choice. But I’m not going to just stand here and let you—let you torture him.”

“I appreciate your concern, doctor,” said Strange. “However, I assure you, I am far more concerned about this complex adversarial dynamic between yourself and Mr. Wesker than any threat to my safety he may believe he poses.”

Wesker’s expression turned… distinctly amused. “You won’t let me? Rebecca. I thought I trained you to be better than… this. Do you have any idea who this man is?”

Rebecca’s gaze dropped to Strange, her face working through several different complicated emotions at once.

Then, she nodded shakily.

“Yeah,” she said. “I could tell from the hipster chic glasses. And, for the record—all of the people who trained me are dead. Including the man you used to be. So.”

Her hand dropped to her Samurai Edge, snug against her hip. Wesker's gaze followed the movement, his once jovial demeanor gone like a distant memory, replaced with a frigid, steady glare.

“Do you truly think you stand a chance against me?” he asked, his tone sounding… eerily curious.

Rebecca stared back at him, her fingers trembling where they grasped her gun.

She swallowed with a soft, dry click. “No.”

Wesker locked eyes with her. And in one brutal, damning instant, he swung his leg around, his boot smashing through Strange's skull like an overripe melon.

Rebecca flinched, recoiling a step. The sickening crunch echoed like a gunshot to her senses, loud and horrible, horrible, horrible.

She stared at the gore spattered across Wesker's polished boots, and kept staring as he sauntered up to her, his steps leaving a trail of glistening, bloody droplets in his wake.

An icy shiver snaked its way up her spine as his boots came to a halt beside her, lingering.

“Mind your step, doctor Chambers,” said Wesker.

And with that, he slipped past her. Vanishing into the dark.

Rebecca’s gaze flitted up from the floor, falling upon Strange’s limp form. Her expression crumpled, regret and disgust swimming in her eyes.

But then she… paused, her brows furrowing in confusion as she looked a little closer, and…

“What… the actual fuck?” she whispered.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Stumbling, wheezing, away from the antechamber, Strange knew he had won. This scuffle may have gone poorly for him, of course, but he would return. And he had so much incredible data to bring with him, more than enough to rebuild the project from the ground up. This was merely the alpha. His remaining hand clutched at his shredded flank, soaked in blood as he approached the secret door.

The doctor had taken significant damage, but nothing he couldn’t survive, and nothing that he couldn’t repair. He just needed some time and facilities, both of which awaited him far away from here. All that stood in his way was one more door. Strange nudged up his glasses to present his bare eye for a retinal scan and began to wipe off his hand for the palm print. It would allow for some margin of error, but he would have preferred not to smear the thing in blood.

“Palm rejected.” the quiet voice of the computer buzzed in response. A shiver ran down Strange’s spine, but a quick glance over the shoulder revealed that no one had heard the sound. No one was coming after him. He was out. Turning back to the scanner, he fished around in his lab coat for a handkerchief, clumsily using it to clean off his good hand. Another scan, pressing his palm firmly against the panel.

“Palm rejected.” frustrated and well-aware that he was on borrowed time, Strange turned to the panel this time. He swept the cloth across the screen, wiping away the blood that had accumulated on it from the first attempt. The doctor could only hope it would be enough, as his handkerchief was rapidly becoming more and more spoiled with each passing moment.

“Palm recognised. Hello, Doctor Strange.” the computer chirped, opening wide to allow the doctor through. Strange breathed a quiet sigh of relief and began to step through, knowing that even the self-absorbed cretin Wesker would figure out the deceit sooner or later. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard an impressed whistle in his ear.

“Wow, doc. This is your get-away, huh? Real sneaky, I’ll give you that much.” Mahito grinned, giving Strange a playful jab in the ribs and a side-on smirk. The doctor didn’t freeze, but did stop in his tracks. He wasn’t shocked or afraid, he was simply aware of the futility of trying to struggle here.

“Well, mister Mahito, I can't say I was expecting to see you here. I take it you took care of Superman, then?”

“Hmm? You mean the flying zombie?” the curse said, chortling a little. “Real creative name. Honestly, though, I don’t think that even I could handle that guy. I just shrunk down and slipped out of the rubble. He’s still flailing around trying to find me, for all I know.”

“Hmph. I knew that I should have increased his cognitive ability. I was sure I could have handled the reprogramming.” Strange sighed, stroking his chin in deep thought even now.

“Yeah, well, live and learn.” Mahito shrugged, lifting his hand further to caress the side of his short-term nemesis’ face. “Guess that means you’re not gonna learn but… whatever.”

“I hope you don’t expect to derive any reaction from me, even with an ability as… unique as your own.” Strange muttered, even as his cheeks began to bulge and distend horrifically. “Such a useful technique, I would have loved to study it more.”

“You couldn’t afford the rights to it. I charge in flesh and blood.” Mahito smirked, right before the doctor popped like a blood bag dropped from five-story building, splattering the local area in gore. The walls, door, and the curse himself were stained red, though he had yet to change his clothes back to black, making the change to Mahito himself rather minimal. “Can’t say that was a bad attempt, though.”

The cursed spirit took off the Man in Red’s hat, gently shaking it off as he made his way out of Strange’s secret exit, trying to clean it off as best as he could without actually expending any effort. Slapping it back on his head, the curse stretched lazily as he made his leisurely escape.

“Death Game Champion, Huh? Has a nice ring to it.” Mahito sighed, arms crossed behind his head as he took a breath of semi-fresh air as he entered a tunnel which presumably led outside. “That was a fun distraction. That should keep me satisfied for…”

The spectre pressed a finger thoughtfully to his bottom lip as he pouted, considering how well the Death Game has sated his homicidal appetite.

“Eh, nah, I could still go for some murder.”

 

[Travis Touchdown]

Travis during the onslaught on D.A.V.E. managed to give some good hits in. It seems that whatever Flak, Leonidas, and the others are doing it’s working. D.A.V.E. is losing his shit and spouting some bullshit about how he’s going to become a god and would eliminate death. And now it looks like he is about to explode so Travis gets an idea. He walks away not looking at the explosion with his back turned cooly. Luckily due to having already been in the back of the group at the time it works as Travis then sheathes his Beam Katana.

“Moé,” Travis said.

He then looks over to see that the Subjects that they were fighting have gone missing. Perhaps after seeing them kill D.A.V.E. they retreated still though hopefully that’s not a problem when they get out of here. He then goes with Rebecca Chambers to check on the others down to the floor below. And runs into Leonidas on the way.

“Well can’t keep a good Spartan down it seems, good to know you haven’t kicked the bucket.”, Travis said.

With a pat on the shoulder, Travis nods back and gives him a peace sign before leaving with Rebecca.

“Damn, those guys had a lot of fun without me down here did you?” Travis said.

As Rebecca was looking for Holmes Travis helped her in her search but along the way found the Man in Red and her daughter and approached them.

“So hope this teaches you a lesson not to screw around with mad science to bring the dead back to life. Especially considering how your friends turned out, and whatever the Hell these things are,” Travis said.

“This changes nothing, I still plan to revive Project Viridian, next time I’ll be more careful with who I choose. Especially since losing Strange and Gero left a huge vacuum to fill. Also, my allies would have been complete had they not been let out so soon when Strange and D.A.V.E. rebelled. They only had base-level instincts and weren’t fully cognitive. Though the remaining escaped Subjects could be a problem,” Man in Red said.

“Ooh, maybe Mr. Touchdown can help kill the remaining Subjects for us daddy,” Elesa chimed in.

“Uh uh no way, I already had enough to deal with, I am going back to Nos’talgia and taking a break for a while. No matter how much you pay me. Anyway, I got a detective to find,” Travis said.

Travis turned and walked away, then Elena stopped him by pulling on one of his pant legs. With a menacing glare, she said “I know about Jeane you disgusting creep,”

Travis then jumped back reflexively a nervous look on his face. Looking around to see no one heard he then realizes he’s about to be blackmailed into complying. At least hopefully he can get something out of it.

“Okay, I’ll help but on the condition that you find my Death Glove and give me a new arm. Trust me when I say that thing will be an extreme help for me to take on the rest of those freaks.” Travis said.

“Done, though don’t expect to be paid any more than your prize money, I suppose I can send you along with some other guards and soldiers to help with damage control if that will take the burden off your shoulders,” Man in Red said.

“Fine as long as I can get a new arm and my Death Glove back I’ll do it, that thing wasn’t cheap it’s a collector’s item,” Travis said.

Then the announcement came on the Limiter bands Man in Red and Elena were wearing. Travis didn’t have his anymore because he lost it with his left arm which was the same one he wore his Death Glove on. It would’ve been useful for him if the Limiter wasn’t primarily working on the Death Glove to prevent him from using it’s special abilities, but of course, it had to have been cut off with an axe.

“So stitches won the Death Games? Where is that guy now I always got bad vibes from him,” Travis asked.

“Who? Oh Mahito, well after almost killing everyone with the stunt he pulled he seems to have escaped somewhere. He’s not my problem anymore but if you want to find him and deal with him you can certainly try. Though I wouldn’t recommend it honestly,” Man in Red said.

With that said and done Travis continues to search the area for Sherlock Holmes. Hoping he can at least find him in one piece.

 

[Karl Jak]

The situation had been settled.

The facility had been thoroughly devastated, and even in the aftermath, personal dramas had continued to play out among the wreckage. Once the chaos had again subsided, Kevin found himself in the proximity of the Man in the Red and his daughter.

“I would have thought you’d have slipped off prior to all the extracurricular activities, Mr. Kaj.”

Kevin shrugged his shoulders as he pointed to the metal collar around his neck. “Can you disable this for me? I assume it has served its intended purpose at this point.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The Man in Red tilted his head but nevertheless stepped forward and fiddled with the piece of equipment. After a few silent moments, he nodded his head. “It’s disabled. You’ll be able to remove it without the explosives detonating.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries,” the ringmaster replied. “Until we next meet, Mr. Kaj.”

Kevin nodded his malformed head. “Hopefully that’s never, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

With that, the two men went their separate ways. Kevin lurched and shambled his way back through the facility, following the signs that pointed him toward the exit to the subterranean research complex. While he was certain he had followed the indicators correctly, he wound up exiting onto a little observation platform built on the side of a cliff wall. Then again, the location provided a nice view of their surroundings.

“Get lost too?” A voice spoke as Kevin glanced over to see the two personal assistants relaxing on the far side of the platform.

“Maybe,” the zombie mumbled as he glanced at the sun as it shined through dispersing clouds. “Maybe not.”

“Charles and I figured we’d enjoy the view a little before we try and find the actual exit. Can you believe this guy is tired? After all that we went through?”

“I’m not a super human,” the young man groaned as he pushed his friend away playfully. “I’ll take my unpaid time off and enjoy a long nap, Caoimhina. You can jump right back into your sea of spreadsheets and emails.”

“I’ll make sure I schedule you for twice the number of shifts when I get a supervisory position.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “I’ll be thirty by then, so it’s whatever.”

“Arse.”

“What about you, Kevin?” Charles asked as he glanced around his ginger companion to see the sullen, battered figure of the Syntech employee. “You look terrible, by the way… and that’s without the whole walking corpse thing.”

“I’m worn out.” Kevin spoke softly as the sun broke through the clouds and splashed the trio in a warm glow. He turned and looked at them. Lifting a malformed, three-fingered hand, the zombified PA grabbed hold of the collar device and yanked. With the device disabled, the springs and clasps easily popped apart, and Kevin casually tossed the inactive piece of equipment to the pair.

“You didn’t explode.” Caoimhina stated.

“Nah,” Kevin replied as he turned to look at them again with his good eye. “But now the only thing keeping this meat suit going is my willpower … and I haven’t felt this tired in a long time.” As he spoke, his voice was nearly invisible over the light gust of wind the washed over the platform.

As the pair of assistants watched, Kevin’s battered and compromised body started to quite literally flake apart in the wind.

“Be good to yourselves, okay?” The zombified PA spoke slowly through numb limbs before what remained of his physical form buckled and spilled over the platform’s edge as a cloud of dust-like particles that quickly vanished into the wind.

***​

To be concluded.