DGS4 -- Staging: Prep Level

[The Man in Red]

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

 

[Shinku]

Once again, Elise heard the familiar chime of the elevator doors as it slid open to another level. Without hesitation, she stepped out, greeted by the orchestrated sounds of clashing weapons and the rhythmic cadence of warriors engaged in training. The spacious area was divided into sections, each tailored to accommodate different styles of combat and disciplines.

Elise's eyes gleamed with a renewed sense of purpose as she surveyed the training grounds. Warriors of diverse backgrounds honed their skills, exchanging techniques and pushing the limits of their abilities. The atmosphere was charged with determination, as various individuals went on their own trainings.

Staff 72, still by Elise's side, offered a friendly gesture. "Feel free to explore the training areas, Elise. We have sparring zones, weapon-focused arenas, and even specialized simulations tailored to various combat scenarios. There are even masters here that can do a custom training for you."

Elise nodded appreciatively, grateful for the staff's hospitality. She made her way to one of the designated sparring zone, a dojo focused on weaponries.

Her eyes were immediately captivated by the extensive array of weaponry neatly displayed on racks. Swords of various styles, polearms with intricate designs, bows with precision craftsmanship, and even a couple of uniquely shaped weapons that defied conventional categorization adorned the racks.

As she perused the selection, Elise's fingers grazed over the cold steel of different blades. Each weapon gave a different feel in her hands. The variety sparked her curiosity, and she couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship of these.

After a while of browsing, a man suddenly approached with a warm smile. "If any particular weapon catches your eye, feel free to test it out. I can also assist you to any training you want."

Elise's focus remained on the weapon rack, her gaze lingering on a uniquely shaped sword with ornate engravings. Intrigued, she decided to give it a try.

"Ah, that's the Serpent Blade," the staff spoke again, as Elise gently lifted the sword from the rack.

Elise couldn't help but marvel at its slender, curved blade that's especially adorned with intricate engravings that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light. The hilt was wrapped in ethereal, silver-hued leather, and its guard bore the likeness of intertwined serpents, their eyes glinting with mystical energy. The sword's weight felt surprisingly balanced in her hands, and its very light feel made her feel like the weapon was designed especially for her.

"This sword is said to have been forged in the cosmic forges of a distant star, imbued with the essence of celestial serpents that roam the astral realms," the staff explained. "Legend has it that its previous owner was able to solely destroy empires."

Elise's eyes widened at the staff's revelation especially at the part of it's previous owner felling a whole empire. "Wow! This sword's owner is that good eh.," Elise remarked, her voice filled with pure awe. "I wonder if it can make me that strong too."

"I'm sure it would but know that all of these weapons are all to be used only within the training grounds," the staff remarked with a smile that caught Elise' sight the moment she turned to face him.

Elise nodded with understanding, and proceeded to swing the sword. She could feel a surge of energy coursing through her, as she went on with the forms and sword techniques that Shinku taught her.

The staff smiled at Elise, clearly impressed by her graceful movements. "Your do know your way with swords!"

Elise, momentarily catching her breath, smiled appreciatively. "Thank you. I simply had a good master that's all."

The staff nodded in understanding, a glint of excitement in their eyes. "How about a friendly spar? I'd love to see how well you can wield that sword in a combat scenario. What do you say?"

Elise's flinched, surprised at the staff's sudden offer. She contemplated for a while, obviously hesitant but agreed anyway. "Sure, I think I needed some practice anyway," She responded, all while readying her stance.

The staff quickly drew a training sword in a fluid and precise motion. Quickly, he lunched at Elise and the sparring session began, the training ground suddenly echoing with the rhythmic dance of blades. Elise displayed her blend of finesse and strength, each strike guided by the graceful techniques that she got from the assassin of shadows himself. The staff, though skilled, found themselves captivated by Elise's unique style.

As the spar unfolded, escalating into a marvelous display of skill between two warriors of seemingly equal skill. It several bouts before the two combatants finally lowered their weapons.

The staff applauded Elise's performance. "Your skill with the sword is truly magnificent milady. It's an honor to have sparred with you."

Elise, catching her breath and wiping sweat from her brow, nodded appreciatively. "You're a great swordsman yourself. I don't think I'd ever beat you with my current skill."

The staff chuckled modestly. "Ah, you're being too modest milady. I had a hard time dealing with your quick strikes."

Elise chuckled lightly before opening her lips, "Well clearly, you're the one pushing me back. But really thanks for the time." With a respectful nod, she turned towards the weapon rack, and place the sword back. "For now, I guess I'll move to check the other facilities."

"Of course. If you ever felt the need for another round of spar, don't hesitate to come back here."

"I'll keep that in mind," Elise replied with a grin as she turned to leave the weapon dojo.

 

[John Connor]

After claiming his “conquests” which really were some rare wine and cheese curds, Leonidas grabbed his spoils and decided to go toward the elevator to see what else was nearby.

After noticing a button inside the marble elevator that took him up and down, he pressed it and it made him jump for a second, not used to the sudden movement. Seconds later, the Spartan King was in the training room. He caught a glimpse of many warriors training both hand to hand and weapons like, but nobody seemed to catch his eye for a while until he eyed a woman who was sparring with an experienced warrior.

“You want to learn how to fight like a real Spartan, stranger?” Leonidas side-eyed the woman who appeared to be leaving the area as he asked the strange woman named Elise.

The woman, already somewhat tired out from the fight, rejected Leonidas offer which he nodded.

“Instead of that, how about we go somewhere and talk, plus I have some treats.”

 

[Shinku]

Elise looked at the spartan, her eyes betraying hesitance on his offer. Moreover, remembering that she's in some sort of a competition, she couldn't help but be on guard against the spartan. Looking at Staff 72's way however, the Carnival Rosa's employee shows no sign of anything amiss. It took her quite a while before she finally gave a nod, "Sure, let's talk. I'd still be interested on learning how a real Spartan fights so perhaps you could show me."

Leonidas led Elise to a cozy corner within the Carnival Rosa where they could converse in relative peace. The Spartan King presented his acquired wine and cheese curds, offering them to Elise. "Before anything else, a Spartan knows how to appreciate the finer things in life, here have some wine and cheese."

Elise hesitated for a while but decided to accepting the treats anyway. "Thank you. So, what brings you here?"

 

[John Connor]

The King of Sparta sat down in a seat and frowned “The brief challenge of new opponents. I haven’t run into anyone else but you yet, Elise.”

The man took his cigar out of his mouth, putting it out for once.

“I fought gods such as Apollo in the arena tournaments and once led men against the Persians but that doesn’t satisfy me. A Spartan always keeps training no matter what the circumstances are.

“So, you wanted to know our customs? Well you came to the right man.”

The Spartan king gave a small wine goblet “It goes back years, Spartans fight with their teeth, swords and eyes but most of all, it goes into discipline from a early age installed into you.”

“After all, I wouldn’t spill every little secret Spartans have to offer without fully knowing you firsthand.”

 

[Shinku]

Elise listened attentively as King Leonidas shared insights into the Spartan way of life, momentarily forgetting the wariness she felt around him earlier. The tales of facing gods in the arena and leading men against the Persians painted a vivid picture in her mind. She raised an eyebrow at the mention of fighting with teeth, finding it both intriguing and brutal.

The Spartan king's emphasis on discipline resonated with Elise. "Discipline from an early age eh. That must mean you all are really good warriors"

Elise, winced as she took a sip of the wine, not really used to its strong flavor. "And oh, my name is Elise. Well, I came from Govermorne, but as you know, it has been destroyed in the unmaking so I'm currently staying at Erde."

 

[John Connor]

The Spartan King wasn’t bothered by the extra dry flavor of the wine, but he mostly enjoyed wine that was similar to ancient Greek’s tastes.

Spartans are literally the epitone of a fighting human. “From a early age, we are displinced to fight for our country.”

The King frowned “I’m… Leonidas.”

“I originally didn’t live on Erde but made due over time. Some day, I’ll get my men back.”

 

[Shinku]

Elise nodded, feeling the weight of the Spartan's words. "So where were you from before you came to Erde?," she probed, somehow realizing the king's vibe of being displaced from his old world, as she was forced to leave hers. It was a feeling she could empathize in spite of the Sparta not directly showing it. She reluctantly took another sip of the wine in courtesy of the one that shared the drink to her, trying as much as she could not to make Leonidas see that she's handling it very poorly.

 

[Ridley]

Flak wasn’t really sure where he wanted to go when he’d first arrived through the teleporter -

Scratch that, Flak wasn’t sure where he wanted to go after his first stop, but the double down was nothing more than a memory and stomach acid now, and there was still plenty of time to kill. Flak figured that was a bit weird, since, y’know, he’d beaten the whole she-bang. This was literally not his first rodeo, and he killed it - and a respectable portion of the competition - last time.

And thinking about that was what brought Flak to the prep level, because despite the trophy he’d gotten and the fancy pitcher he had plastered around in places still saying he was number one - he knew he wasn’t. Not all the way, at least.

He’d had a damn good team, for one, and what’s more, he had a damn good wingman - one who’d protect him from danger, fuse into the most dangerous princess known to mankind, or spot him for a goddamned lift unlike some romans.

Nostalgia from that brought Flak wandering down to the prep area, but unlike last time he was here, he wasn’t really feeling a full exercise routine. Instead, the big guy found himself loafing, picking his nose off on the sides, and blasting his walkman on full blast with Metallica and dragonforce.

He supposed he couldn’t expect every Death-game to be as high-octane or Kickass as his first, but still, man - this was a little low-brow. He’d kept lounging until a noise caught his ears through the Fire and Flames and left him following it to it’s source.

A woman - practicing with a blade, from the looks of it.kinda gentle-looking, if your eyes missed the bladework somehow. Flak had kinda gained an appreciation for swordplay since the fusion with Trevor last year, even if his hands were not made for blade-holding, so as the ape gawked with his goggles, he actually kinda understood a bit of what was going on.

She was graceful, but there was a lot of force hidden in that woman, and she utilized it in her swordplay, overpowering her opponent whenever she saw an opening. A capable fighter - a woman he’d have to watch out for. But there was something else - Flak initially thought it might be the fact she was a pretty blonde, but frankly the whole ‘incredibly hot chick’ angle wasn’t as paralyzing for a man who’d been two different women at this point.

No, there was something very familiar with her style - something Flak knew really well. Trevor’d fought a lot the same, especially with the witchy blade, and he remembered a lot of these moves from a first-person perspective, too - when he’d been half of Flavor.

Well, it seemed like as good of a person to chat to as any, and so he barged down to chat with her - though by the time he’d got there, it seemed she’d been joined by someone else.

Flak’s goggles flashed in the prep chamber as he walked in on the old man, handing out wine.

“Hey, izzat Wine, old man? If we’re being irresponsible ‘fore the death-game, you should share!” he boomed into the conversation with a chuckle. “Name’s Flak! What are you two doing down here?” He asked, waiting patiently for them to reply. For about half a second. Then as boredom kicked in he spoke up again, looking to the Swordswoman with a grin.

“You’re pretty good with that sword there. Reminds me of my buddy from last year, Trevor! You know him? Built, kinda short, tattooed all over, serious expression. Great guy! We worked together last deathgame, so I’d know his fighting style anywhere.” Flak added. “Best teammate I could’ve asked for. Really smart, sneaky, and took orders pretty good. Worked pretty well with my tattoo-cal precision and brawn. Made a good princess too!” Flak added. “Err, not saying he was a princess, that’d be weird. We were the princess!” The brute clarified, making things clearer, he was sure, for everyone.

 

[John Connor]

Leondias lifted his cigar out of his mouth and frowned at Flak, who came up to him and Elise and suddenly came up to their conversation.

“You want some? Why not?” The Spartan King nodded, allowing the soldier to step in and enjoy some fried cheese curds and rare wine, even though it wasn’t exactly a Spartan brand.

“I’m not just any old man, I’m the Spartan King of Legend, Leonidas.”

“You know, the king who took 300 Spartans against 10,000 persians.”

“Come, enjoy a feast of Spartan hospitality.”

“So, you are Flak, huh…” The Spartan King moved his cigar through his fingers.

“Who’s this Trevor anyway?” The man seemed curious to be honest.

 

[Shinku]

Elise's eyes widened in recognition as Flak introduced himself, the clips from the previous death game flooding back to her memory. She watched it through of course, given that Trevor was in there, and Flak, being the one working with the assassin of shadows, why wouldn't she recognize the hulking guy. While Leonidas spoke, Elise couldn't help but immediately approach him, almost forgetting the presence of her roman companion.

"Flak!" she exclaimed, a smile breaking across her face. "Of course, I remember you from the last death game. You and Trevor were quite the formidable team. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. And oh, I actually know Trevor as well, she thought me the ways of the sword."

She extended her hand in a friendly gesture, momentarily forgetting that she's in a competitive game. "I'm really glad to see you here. Hmmm wait if you're here, could he be here as well?"

 

[Elise]

As a matter of fact, he could.

There was, of course, a television set at the back of the gymnastics room to play the usual tapes for the usual Carnival Rosa employee-benefit mandatory exercise routines. An old CRT relic of a bygone era, currently showing a nice lookin' goyl dressed up in knee socks doing some kinda aerobics. Just background clutter, nothing to see here.

At least until the frizzy haired lady on screen audibly yelped as a burly Sailorman trundled into the tube.

Popeye unceremoniously grabbed the screen from the inside and opened it; the viewing glass swung outwards like a storm door as the nautical navigator scroonched his way through. He dusted himself off, and with a spin of his pipe, began walking towards the nearest crowd of people, swinging his arms with a jaunt in his step.

"So thisk is the carn-ee-val, eh? You folksk know whereta get a bite ta eat around here?" Popeye said. His voice was warbly and light, which was fairly remarkable considering his lips barely moved when he spoke. There were three of them here in this gymnasium he could see; two big guys and a frilly lookin' dame. Popeye looked the two lunkers up and down with his beady eye while his pipe did all the talking. (What do you mean by that?)

"Hey doll, these two guysk ain't botherin' yas are they?"

 

[Mollymauk Tealeaf]

“Bah! Not how I would do. Stance, terrible,” Wunya said, shaking her head, silver ponytail swaying behind her. She used the toe of her designer high tops to tap the instructor's legs apart by one more inch to each side. “Much better, more power now. Very good. Try again,” she added, now more satisfied and took another bite of her giant bowl of pasta.

“Ma'am, if you could just maybe stop eating…I am not sure you're supposed to bring food outside of the cafeteria…or inside the prep area-” the instructor stopped talking as the towering Wunya glared down at him.

“Now try, again,” the half-orc coach demanded and the instructor sighed and did his spinning back kick to the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling on a thick chain. To the instructor's surprise, it was more powerful and he raised eyebrows with a nodding head in appreciation.

“Wow. Ok…that does feel alot better…”

“See? Private instruction is good thing. You are welcome. Glad I signed up to teach,” Wunya said with pride.

“Well, ma'am, Er, Coach Wunya,” he corrected as she narrowed eyes at the ‘ma'am’ again. “Usually private instruction means I teach YOU something-”

“Ha! What can poor stance instructor show me? No, no. I teach. I make you better already. Private Instruction,” The tall coach in the tracksuit replied and took another bite of her large pasta bowl.

“Well, we have other instructors…uh, do you know about survival? you know, bushcraft, and staying alive in the wilderness?” The instructor asked, testing out his new stance again, this time getting it right the first time just like Wunya had shown them. She had done this without once putting down her food, only using a two-finger tap on an arm, or toe-touch to a knee or foot.

“Ha! Yes. I know this thing. Not something you forget. Make fire. NOT make noise. NOT leave tracks. Find good water. Simple. Stuff you teach babies…Should I give private instruction to this person too?” She asked curiously, assuming already she knew better than whoever the Carnivale Rosa could produce for the training course.

“No! No, no. It's fine…” and the instructor saw some of his colleagues come in through the far door, and he straightened up. “SO! I heard the announcement that the barracks is open some time ago, you might want to rest up before the competition starts,” they added, and moved to start ushering Wunya out the door before she could say anything more.

“Did you enjoy the lesson?” the coach asked as they neared the exit of the prep area.

“I did, actually. But, if you could maybe just keep this between us for the moment, I uh, don't want the others to get jealous…”

“Makes sense. When competition over, come to Wunya’s Gym for more. I make you a champ,” the half-orc added, and took one hand off her bowl of pasta to close her giant hand into a fist as she gave a sincere nod of her head.

“Uh, ok. Thank you Coach Wunya, have a great time at the death game!” The instructor said as they closed the door just a little too fast behind her.

Wunya looked down the way of both ends of the corridor she now found herself in, took another bite of pasta and then started off in whatever direction she deemed best, heading to the barracks for some relaxation after such a good training session, large bowl in hand.

 

[Gizmo Gear]

Finally, Travis can do some training. Remembering the exercises Thunder Ryu put him through, he is going to put himself through the same though with some extra steps and twists of his own. First, he did ten bench presses to help increase his upper arm strength when swinging his blade. Then he would go for the big one. He got the idea from one anime he watched once about a bald overpowered superhero, though he mostly watched it through recommendations and because the animation quality looked fantastic.

One hundred push-ups, one hundred squats, one hundred situps, and a ten-kilometer run. He has done plenty of squats before but not up to a hundred so this would be a new experience. Though it can't be that bad though right? First, he started with the push-ups, his arms ached afterward but it was time for the squats. Then came the squats, his legs started to ache too but he had to at least go through the situps next. He almost gave up mid-through the situps and decided to take short breaks in between some of them just to regain his energy.

He got up and went to get a drink of water from a nearby water fountain. Slurping it up like a man dying of thirst. After sitting on a bench for a bit to rest he then wondered which best to do the 10 km run on, the running tracks or on a treadmill. Probably better to do it on the track cause honestly running in place on a machine like a jackass just wasn't his style. It took him a while but he finally managed to finish what he started working up a real good sweat and out of breath.

He took to the dojos to practice his swordsmanship on various training dummies. Slicing them like butter with his beam katana, if the knife that was used to cut them was heated to one thousand degrees. Took up classes on survival and wrote down several notes that he saved into his pockets just in case. After he was done he then got out and noticed a bunch of people grouped up and then did a double-take.

"Is that motherfucking Popeye the Sailorman?!" he blurted out.

First Sherlock Holmes and now Popeye. It is a whose who of popular fictional characters around here. Makes him feel special about being summoned here somewhat. His curiosity peaked came in closer to get a listen in on the conversation at hand. Trying not to get noticed.

 

[Ridley]

The prep level had been pretty chill for just a moment, sharing curds and whine with King Leonidas of Sparta. He didn’t pay much attention to history, but he did love 300, so the statement got his respect. Another legendary figure from ancient times. As Elise spoke, taking to heart her words, Flak was already left in shock. “Trev? No, Trev ain’t here. Or at least, if he is, he never told me! Guy’s not great at phoning anyone-”

Any further comments were cut off as an absolute wise guy started cracking up to him with some strong words!

“Why I oughta…

Flak pulled up his sleeves almost instantly at the comment, .“Hey! Nobody just calls me a…”

The giant took a moment, putting a finger to his chin as he thought through the comment.

“...Wait, no, everybody calls me that. Nevermind!”

Flak Pushed his sleeves back down almost instantly at the revelation, doing so more as though someone had hit the ‘reverse’ button on a screen.

Elise spoke up to ease the tension herself, “oh, not at all. Flak and Leonidas were just introducing themselves to me, and we were talking about old friends!”

“Name’s Flak! Rhymes with attack! He’s Leonidas! She’s Elise! And who in the world are you!”

The Short sailor brought his chin up to meet Flak’s gaze, the two having a stare-off as Flak marveled at this short marine. He looked… kinda like a cartoon. Oddly familiar, as he spoke up. Familiar-sounding. familiar-looking.

“I’m Pop-eye the sailor-man!” The bruiser spoke up, his words highlighted by a pair of toots from his pipe, and Flak’s jaw dropped as a gasp left his mouth.

“P-Pop-eye the Sailor-man?” Flak stuttered, his shoulders falling as he looked down at the man in shock. How hadn’t he seen it.

“Yeah, Wanna make somethin’ outta it?” the sailor stuttered, as Flak finally remembered to pick his jaw off the floor.

“Nah, nah, sir. It’s just… you was how mom convinced me spinach wasn’t for nerds!”

“Yeah? yer ma’s a smart goyl, then!”

“Yeah! She raised me to be a great…”

Flak stopped a moment. Normally he’d be pleased as pie to call out his role as a black hole commander. But he also knew what pop-eye did to people who were bad guys, and he wasn’t about to get his ass beat by his childhood hero.

“...Puppy-catcher! I catch lost puppies for a living, bring ‘em home! Yep, really built for findin’ lost puppies! Been, uhhh… doing kittens too, recently. Findin’ lost kitties, bringing ‘em home. I’m great at it!”

Flak gave a sparkling grin with his shining teeth, glad that if he was anything, he was a fantastic liar!

 

[John Connor]

The Spartan King Leonidas stared at Flak with an eyebrow cocked as soon as yet another face decided to show himself.

This guy had an air around him that showed he was not the guy you wanted to mess with, a guy with some sort of military training of some sort and a anchor tattooed on his arm and spoke with some sort of strange accent.

Then Flak started acting really funny around the man with tattoos and a pipe hanging out of his mouth and suddenly started randomly spitting out whatever he could think of at the moment.

Something about this situation could turn out bad for all involved. Flak was mentioning that this was Pop-eye the sailor man.

Leonidas wanted to scoff but he’d rather save himself for the actual battle, not rumble right here and now even if this guy thought he was better than everyone here.

And then Flak said he caught puppies for a living.

He had no idea who this man was and what he was capable of but he didn’t really want to find out at this moment.

Leonidas had to play it smart: Lie and save his ass, lie to save other people around him or spill the truth and possibly face this man’s wrath.

Just as the three were going to settle things with some sort of pressured lie fest, the “Barracks” announcement sputtered out loud.

“Attention all, it’s time to head to your barracks! Time to prepare for what’s coming ahead!”

Leonidas wasn’t going to lie, he liked this Flak guy and he also was starting to enjoy Elise’s company, but Pop-eye was something else.

He scowled at Pop-eye as he turned, eying Flak, wondering if he was going to do something about Pop-eye or not, but Leonidas didn’t care to interfere at the moment. “This ain’t over.” the King frowned. But for a second, he also noted a guy in the background with black hair and some sort of sword thing. He was staring at them the whole time. What is that guy capable of?”

Leonidas simply placed his Spartan helmet and cape on to hide his identity from any more people around the area as he moved toward the barracks, opening the doors.

 

[Gizmo Gear]

Travis listens to them introduce themselves. Flak, Elise, and...Leonidas? Like the King of Sparta Leonidas? He doesn't look like how his statue does or how he looked in that one movie. Still, though he got his confirmation that that was Popeye.

Now Travis preferred Eastern entertainment instead of Western entertainment, barring things like wrestling and sexual videos. You'd have to be brain-dead not to know who Popeye the Sailor Man is. The guy was the inspiration for Mario after all the face of Nintendo and his first game Donkey Kong in the arcade. Travis used to play that a lot as a kid. This could be a big problem, especially if he brought a can of spinach, it's probably best to stay on the sailor's good side.

Flak he was suspicious of, the guy didn't look built to be rescuing puppies and kittens. And someone like that sure as heck wouldn't be participating in a Death Game. Someone to keep an eye on as well. And the fact people are crowding to him like this might mean he's important. Though in what way he wondered.

When he got the announcement to go to the barracks. He didn't go straight away. Instead, he went to one of the computers to search for Flak, which he misspelled as Flack but luckily the computer corrected him and gave him the result he was looking for. Apparently, he is the champion of last year's Death Game and was an army commander for a group called Black Hole. Or rather she because apparently he used a Super Crown to turn into a princess and fused with his partner Trevor to defeat a Zombie Superman. He double-checked just to be sure that was what he read and sure enough, it was still there.

"What the fuck did I get myself into?!" Travis said aloud.

The Death Games were more chaotic than he thought, and his life was full of chaos. Anything is on the table at this point. He then wondered who else was on here and searched himself. And sure enough info about him and some bits from his interview were already on here. Did anyone else already search him up he thought.

He would like to continue research on everyone he knows so far, and read on the other contestants he doesn't know. Though if he doesn't go to the barracks right away he is worried he might be disqualified. So he turns off the computer and heads over there. Hoping to get a rest after all of this.

 

[Elise]

"Dog catcher eh?" Popeye gruffed. He took one stomp up to Flak, real close like, and gave him a few squints with both eyes.

"Well, I didn't knows I was talkin' to a policek officer. Put 'er there!" the Sailorman said, offering the towering hunk a toothless grin. He, accordingly, spat a solid loogie into his palm and offered it to the puppy-catcher for a good old fashioned gentlemanly shake. Flak looked down at the damp palm, hesitated for a moment, and the unflinchingly committed to the bit. This was his life now, at least to this spam-fisted navigator. The rippling, muscled hands collided with a wet smack, and both men held eachother's grasp for a moment, not unlike that one picture. You know the picture; with the muscled arms grabbing hands- yeah that one.

"Well then Flak, Missk and Lay-on daddies, pleased'a meetcha. Now say, you wouldn't know where I can gets me hot dog-"

Just then there came another voice shouting down the speaky-tube, just like back in the alleyway, barking alla kinda nonsense that the Sailorman didn't need just now. The only part he really understood was 'head to the barracks'.

"Sayy...whatsa big idea with this barracksk noise? Is we gettin' pressganged?" Popeye growled, holding his arms up and looking around. Lay-on daddies and a few other folks started a-wandering off in the same direction, but this wouldn't truck with the old Sailorman, no sir. This whole setup was officially scam, yes sir, and he wasn't about to play to the tune'a their fiddle!

A small squad of red-vested Carnivale employees began to push towards the group of contestants, all wearing pleasant smiles. The drop-ceiling and linoleum floors of the preparation level all tunneled away as Popeye's squinting eye focused in on these guys...dressed in the same cheap red suits as that barking clown!

"Right this way to the barracks, contestants! The show will be starting very-"

"Oh yeah?!"

The faces of the employees (some of them familiar faces from the other widely broadcasted blood sport, because seasonal employees right?) immediately blanched as the scrunched up seaman stormed towards them with his pipe steaming. The first one caught a knuckle sammich upside the jaw, sending him crashing into the ceiling overhead with a crunch of drywall.

"Teach you ta try an pull a fast on on me!" Popeye barked, slamming his fist into the second employee. A cloud of air blasted from his puffed cheeks as he hit the ground, with big black X's over his eyes. The third employee was a mousey lookin' dame with spectacles and brown hair. She didn't get a taste of the ol' dukes but half sobbed into her pocket radio as the Sailorman stormed off down the hallway.

"This is Candace on staging level three, section twelve! Contestant nineteen has gone Code Black! I need a response team down here STAT!" she weeped. With that, she shuddered to her knees to check the pulse of poor Henry, who had caught a solid blow right innis bread basket...but it was too late. He had X's on his eyes.

"Give 'em hell, Popeye!" Flak shouted as he watched the ornery old navigator storm around the corner to the stairway. There came a victorious 'toot toot' in reply, just as the emergency lighting started to flash and a warning sounded across the entire Prep Level.

Meanwhile, in the stairwell, Popeye was muttering to himself as he tried to make heads and tails of the signage around this joint. There tweren't no kinda exit sign posted anywhere, and the staircase seemed to go up and up and down and down indefinitely in both directions.

"Well ain't this just a bit of a pickle. This carn-ee-val is really takin' me fer a ride." he muttered. As he stood there scratching his head, he was distinctly unaware that he was being flanked by four heavily armored and armed Carnivale Containtment specialists. One element descended from above, while the other was stacked on the corner from the Prep level. A small hand signal, and it was on. This was very serious business.

Unfortnately for them, Popeye was very silly.

"When in Rome, makesk a quick exit, arf arf!" Popeye chuckled. He ripped a length of railing off of the nearest staircase landing and quickly bent it into the shape of a door frame. He slammed it into the concrete wall with a solid push, and naturally, the wall swung inwards to reveal the Recreation Level beyond. The central concourse, with its various arcades, lunch joints and mall-gardens lay sprawled before him as he strolled through, singing a tittering little shanty.

This, of course, forced the Containment Team into action, bursting from their hiding spots in their dark red flak vests, stun batons poised to strike!

"Go go! Get the collar on him, keep him still!"