[NB] The Vault

[Azula]

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Clock’s running down. Walls closing in. Or, in this case, literally crumbling around them.

Azula watched as Altanis collapsed to the ground in a heap before her. Her gaze carried no glee, or even satisfaction. No, at this point, the dagger she drove through the demon’s eye simply fulfilled a contract upon which the fire princess always intended to collect. The bloodied piece of sandstone she held in her good hand stunk of horse flesh, but mingled with the sweet scent of freedom, it almost smelled good. Azula lifted the brick to her face and sucked in a deep breath through the nostrils of her still-healing nose.

Without a second thought, she bashed herself with it. Sandstone collided with skin as once again the pointed implement snapped in several spots, her own blood oozing out of it and mixing with the dried Nico Cinder blood that remained on her lips and chin. She flashed bloodied teeth to no one in particular, grinning widely — now, there was the glee.

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she brushed some of her raven-colored hair out of her face. Then a giggle. Then, perhaps, a hearty chortle?

She laughed. She smiled. She enjoyed herself.

Revenge was sweet.

Her mangled nose barely whiffed the crackling smell of Elise’s charred corpse sinking into the sandstone nearby. The bloodsucker lay, ashen and lifeless, amongst the stones she’d crashed into just yards away; as Azula turned her gaze that direction, the princess half-expected her vampiric rival to stalk back to the world of the living to exact revenge. But no such flicker of movement came from the smoking pile of blood and guts. Elise existed now just as another reminder of Azula’s supremacy over this cabal of pathetic insects.

She wished she’d gotten to enjoy it more. The look in Elise’s eyes — that’d been priceless, yes. But she’d have given almost anything to have the opportunity to revel in it just a bit more. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she would, in time; she’d come to understand that death wasn’t always as permanent as it seemed here in the Crossroads, and just maybe she’d get to see to it that the bloodsucker suffered just ever so slightly more. Was that asking for too much?

Just past Elise, she caught sight of someone else she hoped she’d see in a next life.

Stheno.

Nearby, the other competitors busied themselves with their petty squabbles. She’d deal with them soon. She’d keep her promise to the gorgon, that no one would leave unless it was the two of them. In this moment, though, they mattered little. In this moment, she only had eyes for the two gargantuan figures hulking over her right-hand-woman’s lifeless form.

The Uber Jasons — one and two to Azula, whether that was the designation they’d been given or not — turned their metallic, masked faces toward their victim’s commander. The princess started to stalk towards them, slowly and calmly, clambering up onto a pile of sandstone that stood between her and the mechanized murderers. For a few moments, the Jasons stared at Azula, watching and waiting for their next victim to make the first, impulsive move.

Stheno’s death had rid her of any such emotional baggage. She felt like stone, felt fused with the rock remains of the roof beneath her boots, as her eyes fell on the corpse of her… her friend at the Jasons’ feet.

“I’m not sure if you can understand me,” she muttered simply, quietly, “…but you’ve made a big mistake.”

They must’ve comprehended something, because not a second passed before the princess was in the air, leaping over a slice from Jason One’s machete. She propelled herself higher with a burst of azure flames from each palm.

Hanging in the air above the Jasons’ head, she caught a glimpse of a large chunk of the battlefield. Lying almost in a perfect line, separated by mere meters: Stheno, Elise, Altanis. She rectified her earlier sentiment.

Revenge was bittersweet.

Boots hit the ground first. Azula’s knee touched down just beside Stheno’s head, and she heard the swoosh of Jason Two’s machete swinging to split her head in twain like it had Nico’s. The fingers on her good hand wrapped around the hilt of Stheno’s own blade, and the fire princess whipped around, lifting Ladon to meet Jason Two’s assault with a resounding clang.

The force from the hulking monstrosity’s attack sent Azula tumbling backwards onto her former lieutenant’s body. She crashed into Stheno’s abdomen, lifting her bad hand to the hilt to add whatever force she could muster in her struggle against Uber Jason’s overwhelming force. He pushed onward, trying with all his might to break through Ladon and crush Zuzu for good, but the jagged machete held the monster at bay, just as its former owner thwarted many a threat to Azula’s life.

Once again, the teenager felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t been able to return the favor.

Jason Two pressed down, hard, and Azula felt her strength begin to falter. She buckled, losing grip on Ladon with her right hand, and struggled to muster the strength to keep the murderer’s weapon at bay.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Clock’s running down.

Chh chh chh… ahh ahh ahh.

Azula’s right hand fumbled with Stheno’s blindfold as she searched for her final, last ditch option. She yanked the cloth down and indiscriminately ripped.

“Sorry, friend,” she grunted as she tore one of Stheno’s eyes out of its sockets. She swung it upwards and aimed it at Jason Two’s face, slamming a foot into the bottom of his mask and knocking it upwards for good measure. She yelped in pain, the impact of the metal stinging her foot, as the newly-revealed gaze of Jason Two made eye contact with Stheno’s disconnected eye and froze in place, petrified.

Azula gritted her teeth and growled. “Die,” she commanded, shirking Two’s machete out of the way and driving Ladon directly into his exposed face.

Petrified already, his form suddenly went slack, and Azula barrel-rolled out of the way to avoid him as he collapsed onto Stheno’s broken corpse.

The princess reached down and jerked Ladon out of the murdered murderer’s face and turned to stare down Jason One.

Chh chh chh, ahh —

“Shut the fuck up!” Azula shouted to no one and nothing in particular, lifting the jagged machete high and swinging it through the air as she sprinted toward the first of her only friend’s killers. He lifted his own machete in defense, making quick work of Zula’s attack as she swung and made no headway. He parried her off to his right side, reaching down with his free hand and wrapping his fingers around her throat.

He lifted the princess high into the air and squeezed, blocking any air from entering the girl’s lungs as she swung Ladon madly. Even Stheno’s huge weapon couldn’t breach the breadth of this Jason’s arm, just barely missing the cyborg’s chest plate as Azula flailed wildly in his grip.

Uber Jason watched with some interest as she struggled, fascinated to see no fear cross her face — just pure, unbridled fury.

Deep in the recesses of the Syntech facility, some — perhaps even Karl Jak himself, or some of his copies — whispered about the oncoming demise of arguably one of their most unhinged candidates ever. She squirmed and shouted, raging as loud as she could with her windpipe blocked, as crazy now as she’d ever been, probably more so. Most of the purple-suited employees agreed this would be a proper end for her journey. Good TV, atleast.

There was no way for Azula to know this, but she felt in her bones that — yet again — someone, somewhere, was underestimating her, one more fucking time.

Didn’t they know better by now?

She released her grip on Ladon. It fell to the sandstone floor with a loud bang, and she slid the knife Karl UnJak had given her out of her belt, driving it through Jason One’s hand with extreme force…

…and, subsequently, directly into her own neck.

She pulled it out quickly as Jason recoiled and released her. She fell and dropped to her knees, swiftly lifting her bad hand up and pressing it to the wound. Flames erupted from her hand and the hole in her neck cauterized, barely losing enough drops of blood to raise Elise’s interest.

Livid, she stared down a weakened Jason One and grabbed Stheno’s weapon once again, taking stock of what lay behind him.

The dragon and the swordsman, dancing their incessant dance despite the chaos. The unmade rabblerouser, carousing from one fight to another and never staying long enough to feel the heat. The bamboozling idiot, or… several of him. Roy Mustang — the fool pretender. Strazio — who thought he could best her.

They would all fall to her wrath.

But first… this motherfucker.

1494 words according to GDocs.

 

[Ridley]

Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara-no-Harunobu. The Space Pirate General coldly addressed his foe with reptilian slits.

The new environment had not shifted the focus of either warrior. The xenomorph’s being recoiled in disgust to admit it, but his intellect was powerful enough to override his bestial rage and acknowledge the danger the samurai posed. Every bit as agile as the hunter, every inch as deadly as the slayer, and almost as stubborn as Ridley himself.

It was with this perspective that Ridley turned, maw snapped close as his glare burned across the vault. Musashi paused in her attack, as the Unmade General stopped, still as a statue. Every muscle brought itself from screaming, punishing life back to a cold stop. The frantic beast transformed into a calculated killer as he shifted his stance, protecting his vitals as he retreated into a crouched position. His baleful gaze made his challenge clear.

If you dare.

The last Hell Diver’s face betrayed her surprise. This was an entirely new tactic from the unmade xenomorph. It made no difference, though - she couldn’t afford more than a second’s pause in this fight, and Ridley still held the range advantage. She could only fight as a swordsman - up close and personal

The samurai slid into range, aiming for the legs with a broad slash of her pearl-white katana, and the dragon dug his talons into the earth. Ridley tensed his muscles and shrieked as he forced his tail to move, the rock of the basement level cracking and buckling against his raw power as he freed the weapon with a fresh spray of blood. The slicing spade whipped forward and smacked the blade from her hands mid-stroke.

The dragon followed up with a flurry of tail thrusts that missed Musashi only by inches. The Vibrant Flower of Tengen whirled like a petal in the wind, dodging the strikes with expertise, but even her prowess was tested by Ridley’s focused strikes, and as the samurai hand-springed back to catch Zenitsu’s snow white blade, the tail-spike grazed across the samurai’s side, tainting the air with the scent of her blood.

Ridley’s sneer had shrunk to a focused scowl - the usual victorious smirk of victory was replaced by a burst of plasma that created a carpet of hot death, forcing Musashi to retreat further into a nearby tunnel. The merciless avian would not let his prey have even a moment of rest now that he could smell her weakness wafting through the cave, creating an easy trail to follow.

The Space Dragon was not alone, though, and the avian was forced to halt, plasma dribbling from his maw.

The emaciated dragon screamed a burst of orange plasma that collided head-on with a bright dove-tail of mercury flame.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, monster. You can’t keep running from me down here.” Azula taunted.

Ridley turned, his glare almost breaking into a grin at the insinuation, before the both of them were interrupted by a pair of Jason’s appearing behind them.

Ridley was forced to simultaneously parry a machete strike with his tail and fire a burst of plasma to deflect both Azula’s flames and the Serial killer’s blade. Azula gave a smile as she kept the dragon pinned between a sword and a hot place.

“Wait your turn!” Ridley spat, catching the pursuing Jason with his tail as he pushed his muscles to their limit, dragging the cyborg into the line of fire as Azula's wrath burnt through the front of Uber Jason number three.

With one hard kick, the wyrm flung Jason straight at Azula, forcing her to dodge. A lucky ricochet forced the princess to duck underneath a flying machete next, and by the time she looked back Ridley was gone down the tunnel, already on the heels of his real opponent. This newest natural section seemed to be partially overgrown, roots and vines layered across the floor.

“Ridley!” Mustang croaked across the way, causing both Musashi and the dragon to turn as the Miniskirts former commander unleashed a few sparks from spare pieces of destroyed metal and stone. Natural caverns meant natural minerals, and that happened to include flint, after all. The devastating blast of flames carved a path through the air and narrowly missed burning out Ridley’s heart.

“Let me help you with this-” Roy began.

Musashi didn’t wait. Why would she? This was no ally.

Ridley gave a grin as Roy was pushed aside so that the samurai could take vengeance. The space pirate barreled forward, and the two clashed blade to claw, the strikes kicking up sparks as they exchanged sides.

“-Please! If we unite, we can actually beat him!” Roy snapped, trying to get through to the Hell Diver champion, even as he lifted the flint to take another shot at Ridley.

“-She wields the blade of a Helldiver Lieutenant I killed on the coast.” Ridley’s voice rang out, his sadism at last returning to form. “She’s seen your assistance firsthand.”

Ridley abhorred speaking in combat, especially with his lungs starting to give out, but the stain on his honor moved faster than Ridley’s claws could hope to, and he could see how the emotional gut punch caused the alchemist to hesitate. He couldn’t beguile or break this man, but he could blind him, if only temporarily, to the shadow behind him.

Roy shrugged off the accusation and brought his makeshift tools up to burn the reptile, just in time to take a swift left cross to the back of the head.

“Ooh, did I break something? Really sounded like it. Well, no worries, ‘general’.” Karl Unjak added with a sarcastic tone refusing not to creep in. “I’ve got this one under control. Hail Darkseid or… whatever.”

“Producer.” Ridley replied simply with something vaguely resembling a respectful tone, before returning his gaze to his nemesis.

The flames set by the alchemist had caught within the vegetation,plant life, the fungi and other kindling belching flames and smoke as the cybernetic dragon charged, gears whirring. The minx flipped across the breadth of the area in one swift jump, getting in Ridley’s face quickly enough that the dragon was already forced on the defensive. As the flames crackled, the two exchanged blows. The cramped quarters forced Ridley to withhold his plasma, so the pirate met the swordsman in a raw exchange of physical power, fending off the swordsman’s speed and skill with his veritable arsenal. For what was one blade against a sea of talons and crushing jaws and tail-mounted scythes?

Musashi would not be denied, however, and pushed forward, smashing one claw aside before sidestepping the tail-strike that came after. Ridley’s gnashing jaws came up empty as the nimble swordsman rolled past, seeking greater prey:

Ridley’s heart. The wyrm’s eyes widened as he realized he’d been played for a fool again.

The ivory blade found purchase, slicing through steel and flesh in one clean arc as she swung for Ridley’s weak-spot. The wound leaked orange fluids across the floor, but instead of a ruptured power cell exploding, half a talon slammed to the ground, digits weakly twitching.

Ridley’s other hand snatched up Musashi as he screamed out in equal parts agony and triumph. One shaking hand brought the struggling helldiver up to his mouth, as Ridley opened his jaws. The dragon’s actions were slowed by his injury, as he opened his mouth and prepared to give her the same death he’d offered before. The Last Hell Diver was too weak to struggle against his grip, and Ridley's jaws snapped open to grant her passage.

And then pain struck! Across Ridley’s body, worse than anything he’d experienced on this island. The stunned general stumbled forward, dropping the hell-diver to the ground. “Burning?!I’m burning?!” The dragon stammered in disbelief. With a look to the floor below, The scorched talon gave him his story- unlike the bio-plasma of a human, his blood was far hotter. Hotter and extremely flammable!

The swordsman’s attack had distracted him from the blaze, and now he was engulfed in it. The dragon collapsed with a titanic thud, Musashi leaping away from the flames before they could cremate her with him.


So cold.

So hot.

Darkseid’s poison, held back for so long, spoke to the dragon now, twisting him as his guard finally fell.

He needed..

To kill.

Ridley’s eyes closed, their last sight being the back of the samurai who’d beaten him.


He needed. to consume. To consume all. To kill everything.

Helldivers, unmade, creation itself! But most of all, most of all, Her!

Ridley’s eyes snapped open as his mind simply snapped.

The wyrm’s talons found purchase in the soft earth, lifting him back to his feet. The fire burned, but the pain found no purchase in the new refuge of insanity Ridley had found. A feral, guttural growl announced his presence, leaving the disbelieving samurai to turn around.

“Muuusaaaaashiiii!”

1480 words according to wordcounter.net. 1495 according to google docs.

Ridley is still on fire. Have fun with that everyone.

 

[Strazio Rockwell]

And just like that all of his friends were dead. Whatever white hot rage he had felt at the sight of Gamzee’s severed head had since been tempered into cold and bitter spite. The Rock and Elise’s demise merely served to fill his heart with more venom and his gaze with more hatred. Around him Jasons battled with the remaining contestants, each of them fighting for their lives. They wanted to win. They wanted to survive. But Strazio, he just wanted to hurt people. Even the ones he had never met before, he wanted to break their bones and strip their flesh. It was a pragmatic sort of hatred that filled him, the cruel kind that only served to injure. And brother, he was going to indulge.

For the time being the Jasons were focused on the others. Deliberately he moved around the edge of the vault, lurking in the shadows. Had he access to his magick he would have no doubt charged in, but his time in The Crossroads had given him perspective. Elise was right, he wasn’t the same man he had been in his old world. He had been so full of fire and capricious anger, but without magick a sour attitude could only get you so far. However, it wasn’t as if that rage had vanished, no, it had merely transformed. It became an opportunistic sort of spite, the kind that one might find in a rat or a vulture. And as he drew near the conflict he spotted a particular princess that was ripe for his ire.

Much as a predator does nothing to announce their presence, so too did Strazio silently move upon her. Her attention had fallen too intently on Jason, and in that moment Strazio struck at her. His fist connected with the side of her skull, he felt the bones in his fingers crack from the impact. It was a clean hit, the kind that would have put most people down. The princess was not most people. She moved with the sudden force, taking the momentum and turning it into a back walkover. Her eyes fell upon Strazio and had looks been able to kill they both would have dropped dead. No words were shared, just a moment of reverence for their mutual disdain.

Azula moved first, stepping forward and releasing a bolt of lightning from her fingers. It crossed the distance between them in mere moments, connecting cleanly with Strazio’s head. His vision turned white and the scent of ionized air filled his nostrils. His hair erupted into a plume of blue flames and his skin turned black and charred. Just as quickly as it struck, so too did it end. His vision returned, tainted by splotches of black and purple. Still he tracked Azula and moved towards her, dodging an errant fireball. His wild swings were easy to avoid and outright amateurish compared to Azula’s martial prowess. She took a calculated and deliberate swing with Ladon, hoping to give her a moment of space. To her surprise however, Strazio stepped into the blow, catching the weapon with his side. Before she could react Strazio wrapped his arm around hers, tucking it tightly against his body.

“Can’t flip your way out of this one,” Strazio said.

He stepped into her, swinging his skull forward and cracking it against her face. Cinders from what remained of his smoldering hair exploded outwards upon impact. Stunned from the strike, Azula stumbled to the ground, ripping both her arm and Ladon free from Strazio’s side. Blood and viscera sprayed out from the wound and the sudden loss of blood pressure forced him to his knees. Blood poured from the jagged wound and his vision grew hazy. He could see Azula moving, already recovering from the strike. Weakly he sprawled forward, trying to keep her pinned. Slowly Azula recovered. They wrestled for control of the machete. Despite her returning strength, Strazio refused to surrender control of Stheno’s weapon. She laid into him with her free hand, raining blow after blow into the side of his head, but his grip did not loosen.

“Fine then,” She said, raising her hand, “Have it your way.”

Flames materialized between her fingertips, coalescing into a rotating sphere. He was only vaguely aware of this, his vision having been reduced to a dark tunnel. However he could feel the heat emanating from the attack. The orb continued to grow, expanding into a disc-like shape. He smiled weakly and then started to laugh. It was a pitiful muttering of sound, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Azula was taken aback for a moment, but then she started to laugh as well. It started as a slow chuckle and developed into a wild cackling. Blood dripped from her cracked-open face and splattered against Strazio’s body.

Azula laughed, “You’re the one that’s dying here, not me.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Strazio said, his throat tight with exhaustion.

“Then why are you laughing?”

Strazio offered her a blood-soaked toothy smile, “You look fucking stupid with missing teeth.”

A moment of shock crossed her face as she licked at the empty cavity. Nearby, a smattering of shattered porcelain shards sat unassuming and very much not where they should be. Her laughter ended.

“Die.”

Strazio’s world vanished and he was thrust into one made of hellfire. Searing hot air filled his lungs, burning them from the inside-out. Every flammable part of his upper body was vaporized. His clothes, what remained of his hair, and even the tips of his ears started to incinerate. There was a terrible pain as his skin blistered and split apart. However, the worst of it was the numbness that followed. Pain receptors turned to ash and his body stopped responding to the heat. It was as if he had been sealed within a fleshy coffin. At first it was hard to tell that it was over, but fresh air soon filled the void left by the extinguishing flames. This air washed over him, stinging at the few exposed nerves that remained. He groaned and writhed beneath her.

“Die already you piece of trash” Azula shouted, her voice muffled and distant.

She drew forth another orb of fire, a smile stretching across her lips. However, her attention suddenly turned towards an approaching Jason. She chuckled and extinguished the attack. Without a word to Strazio she stood and backed away.

“Make him suffer,” She said towards Jason, before turning to join the rest of the battle

Jason, most likely lacking the capacity to understand anything other than murder, didn’t even acknowledge her. Strazio squinted towards the approaching Jason, his right eye burnt and crusted over with char. All he could see was a vague shape and the metal glint of a machete. That was all he needed to see. He rolled over and started to crawl, his skin crackling like the sound of charcoal being shattered. It wasn’t a desire to live that spurred him on. At that point all that remained in the ruined body of Strazio Rockwell was a belligerent stubbornness. They were going to suffer for every scrap of flesh on his body.

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang staggered away from the blaze with unsteady footing. The heat of the inferno was intense in these confines, but that wasn’t the most dangerous threat posed by this unchecked flame. They were trapped down here with only speckled rays of light to show access to the outside world. Their confines were tight and this much fire would quickly eat up the available oxygen trapped down here with them. At least the flames illuminated the rocky caverns well enough that Mustang could see the remaining Jasons.

The Unmade space pirate tore past in a screeching blender of fiery flailing. The pink-haired Ronin staying mere inches ahead of the beast’s rage. All the calculation and all the cunning seemed to be gone from the monster’s mannerisms. As Mustang watched, Musashi slid around an outcropping of rock, only for Ridley to smash straight through it in pursuit. The Helldiver was slowing down, evading that focused a foe in her state would be nearly impossible for long. With only the faintest of hesitations, Mustang stepped forwards, then struck the shard of flint in a shower of sparks.

*Snap*

Instantly the flames around the mechanized pirate’s left side surged outward into an explosion, tearing a chunk from his wing and slamming the avian into the rock wall of the cavern. The Ronin pivoted in an instant, diving into the flames that wreathed her foe’s body with a bloodlust. The pale katana sliced quickly in the moment of distraction, then Musashi immediately retreated again.

“His life is mine!” she shouted sharply, before fleeing into the depths of the fire. With a bellowed scream, the former Unmade general dove after her. Mustang cursed and made to follow, though his shattered leg kept him from keeping pace with either combatant.

“Woah! Headsup!” Came a shot from the side. Mustang narrowly avoided a trident as it flew through Mirage’s duplicate. The legend himself arriving soon after. The two took a position back-to-back, as Mustang turned to unleash fire on the Jason that had been pursing Mirage.

“Where’d that smug bastard scamper to this time?” Mustang asked, As his alchemical fire poured over the Jason, cybernetic armor beginning to melt and to fuse, slowing his advance.

“He keeps disappearing on me!” Mirage shouted back. As Mustang’s fire ended, the pilot slid forwards, bashing the undead’s kneecap with his trophy. The leg twisted, but Jason remained as silent as ever. Mirage doubled back, breathing heavy, And drove a kick into the back of the same knee. Finally, the Uber Jason toppled over with a thud to the stones.

“Karl Unjak is our priority.” Mustang confirmed, then stepped towards the downed foe. “Find him and we’ll engage him together!”

Mirage nodded, tossing his trophy into the air with a grin, though Mustang could tell it was a forced one. This poor fool hadn’t seen loss and death on this scale before. The legend didn’t even have a quip as he dashed off in pursuit of Unjak. With a grim expression, Mustang turned back to the toppled Jason. With a strike of the stones, flame alchemy poured down on his foe again and again, what remained of the cyborg’s folded skin blackening and blistering.

With a tearing sound, a machete tore through Mustang’s side from behind. The weapon’s edge was poorly suited for stabbing, but the incredible strength of his foe forced the blade through both Mustang’s armor and flesh. He stumbled forwards, the weapon coming free with a spray of blood. Mustang swung round, arms raised, then struck the flint, wincing at the pain in his side. That would need attention, before he passed out.

*Snap*

Alchemical flames exploded forwards into his assailant. A split second later, the orange fire was met by sapphire flames from behind Jason’s hulking form. The cybernetic monster was caught between the two-fold assault, and when the conflagration abated Jason had once again disappeared. Small motes of orange and blue flame clung to stubborn bits of wood, as Mustang faced Azula.

If Mirage was handling this ordeal poorly, Azula had fared far worse. She swayed as she stood, her formerly royal appearance now a mess of blood stains and tangles. One hand clutched a knife, fingers gripping and releasing it with a manic energy. Her eyes settled on Mustang, and a slow laugh escaped her grinning face.

“Stand down general Azula!” Mustang ordered with a furrowed brow, “Our enemy now is the Unmaking, there will be time for grudges when they are beaten.”

“You know it’s quite interesting.” Azula leaned to one side, slowly stepping closer, “One would have expected a military veteran to be a natural at something like this. Yet here you are, outmaneuvered so completely that you abandoned your charge in order to save your own skin.”

“I made the decision that would keep the Unmaking contained!” Mustang slowly stepped to the side, mirroring Azula’s pace and maintaining distance.

“More excuses? Well, at least we’ve found something you’re good at, fool!” Azula’s eyes narrowed, as she settled into a combat stance, “And by the way. The title is Commander Azula.”

With an over-eager grin Azula spun forward, three compact bursts of sapphire flames surging forth in quick succession. Mustang evaded the first punch of fire, then countered with a large ball of orange fire, intercepting the remaining two missiles as it roared towards Azula. The fire princess pointed fingers together A wedge of sapphire forming in front of her. Mustang’s flame alchemy broke around the bulwark, and Azula flung her hands out wide, separating the attack in two clean halves.

Snarling with anticipation she leapt forward into the air. She kicked forwards, forcing Mustang to scramble away from the blast, the force of her attack giving her backwards lift to clear some distance. She landed, not quite perfectly, but she turned the momentary overbalance into the beginning of a large sweeping motion. Mustang repositioned himself in time to see a roiling column of sapphire flame spiraling towards him.

*Snap*

With a crack and a boom, flame alchemy exploded in the intervening space, not as an attack, but to expend the oxygen in the air between them. Robbed of its fuel the oncoming attack floundered, only traces of the original blue flames making it to Mustang, burning his coat and uniform.

“I said to stand down!” He ignored the trace flames lingering on his sleeves as he stepped forwards, striking the flint once again. Azula was already leaping to the side in preparation, but she was not fully able to escape the range as the air around her prior location ignited in an instant. She landed hard trailing smoke but turned her momentum into a roll. Her back foot swung forwards as she righted herself, a sweeping arc of knee height flame spreading out across the chamber.

Mustang’s fire appeared to block the attack once again. His flint was chipping fast, one of these strikes it was going to shatter. He sorely needed his gloves to keep pace with foes like this on a larger scale. He needed to press the attack before he ran out of defense.

“You really need to brush up on your footwork, you know.” Azula sneered with a wide-eyed smile, “There’s no room for lead foots in an Agni kai.”

Two vertical slices of sapphire flame rushed forwards greedily. Mustang spun away from the first, the struck his flint, intercepting the majority of the second. Fresh pain seared across the top of his scalp, the firebending prodigy’s attack reaching through his defense. He needed to direct the flow of this battle more. Azula had the advantage of mobility; he needed to remove it.

His eyes darted to the clearest patches around the firebender, perches she could leap to, sections of the ground she could land without risk. She would have to dodge towards one of those places. He raised the flint and iron, striking once, then a second time in rapid succession.

Azula dodged the initial strike cleanly this time but had to twist in mid air as her surroundings erupted in a swath of fire. Mustang’s alchemy pulled oxygen from her surroundings, the transmuted fire snaking around the area to block her avenues of evasion. Her aerial adjustment avoided the worst of the assault, but she landed hard on unforgiving rock. Azula spat a wad of blood as she rose, both combatants now trailing small patches of fire as they eyed one another, breathing hard.

“Had enough, girl?” Mustang challenged, “Or do we keep going until there’s nothing left in this cave but ash?”

“You’re not even on my level.” Azula sneered, arms already tracing the arc to lightningbend

 

[Mirage]

Chh Chh Chh Ahh Ahh Ahh

Mirage ducked out of sight and sent himself out to flank around a tall chunk of ruins against Jason twenty something, hoping to drag the fight away from Roy so that he could focus on Azula’s advance. It was clear that both of his former commanders had beef that needed to be settled, just as the trickster had with Jason twenty, well, let’s say twenty-three and go with that.

One glance at how much blood stained Jason’s coveralls immediately disproved any chance that it was only their own, along with the cuts and burn marks in their outfit. Mirage raised his Wingman as Jason charged towards him, watching in horror as the shots he fired failed to tear holes into the hulking killer, as if they had gained the ability to simply shrug off bullets.

Mirage fell back against the stone floor, grunting while he rolled to avoid a swing of Jason’s machete, only to get a crunching elbow from his stumped arm from below, sending the trickster flying. The fizzling of the hologram was followed by a swift ram in the back by Mirage’s shiny golden head, at least, the one on his trusty trophy. Shots rang out once more from the real Mirage, burying themselves in Jason’s back and forcing him to stumble forward, but not yet fall.

The trickster’s panic seeped into the rest of his body as Jason turned on his heels and leaped at him, forcing him to holographically split off, but not before Jason managed to cut away a large chunk of his body shield by slashing into his upper arm. The mirrored Mirage’s made way for the center of the collapsed area of the arena, where the debris had created a small maze-like zone of ruined structures.

The split pair of tricksters snuck around their own way, hoping to distract Jason and cut line of sight from the terror of a serial killer, until somehow, they both ran into…

Chh Chh Chh Ahh Ahh Ahh

Again? Mirage heard his decoy cry out as it was cleaved by its own killer, and focused back on the one he faced now. Two hands. Great, now he was the one getting bamboozled. Not cool.

Mirage doubled back to try to come back the way he came, only to see that the Jason Twenty-Three was hot on his trail. Another quick turn led him deeper into the debris, deeper hills formed from the larger, sturdier chunks of floor that had fallen. The wedge of shelter created a hallway for Mirage to head down, attempting once again to make his escape.

At the end of the incidental tunnel, a hulking figure appeared, furious with rage as it began its march to Mirage. The trickster turned tail once more and continued out of the stone shelters and out into the open once more. It appeared he had managed to circle around, recognizing the pillar in the distance. It hurt just as much seeing Wraith’s body a second time, his frowned mask feeling relevant as he found himself missing the boxes and banners of the Apex Games.

He found himself forgetting his surroundings for a moment, bringing back the reason he had been so daring earlier with Karl UnJak. Wraith appeared to have fallen along with everything else on the previously standing arena floor. Mirage held back any thoughts of what else might have broken in the fall. Twinges of bitter guilt built up within the legend, as it had been easy to lose himself for a moment there. The tension in his body felt rigid even as he had talked to Roy. He popped a couple more shield cells to top himself off as he listened for footsteps.

Mirage took a deep breath as he gave one final look at his partner, giving a depressed sigh as he stared into her glossy eyes one more time. He closed them, noticing the weapon she still held in her final moments. His heart began to race after he heard his stalkers come out to engage him, their leery focus boosting his motivation to obtain the weapon as quickly as possible. With a spin and the pull of the trigger, high impact rounds shot into first Jason in the conga line and continued to push into the other two, bringing a smile to Mirage’s face as it seemed to suppress them a lot better than his Wingman.

Another clip was fed into the gun, and he counted the wave of Jasons hunting him. Three, but something seemed off. Mirage cocked his gun and loaded the chamber as the thought crossed his mind. Six hands.

Chh Chh Chh Ahh Ahh Ahh

A duplicate continued forward and rained hellfire towards the trio of Jasons, pulling them off course as the decoy led them away from its maker. The original twin sharply pivoted and sprayed bullets into Jason twenty-three and blew its torso through, splattering blood as the killer’s good arm drove into Mirage’s body shield and sank partly into his shoulder, forcing a cry out of him.

Jason twenty-three’s limp body provided little comfort the the wound it had left behind, stinging and bleeding onto the battlefield. Mirage shoved his rival off and took a deep breath, pushing past his pain as he fled away from the other trio to reload and recover.

Nothing like distracting all of the machete serial killers so that everyone could settle their grudges.

“Looks like somebody forgot how to count!”

Speaking of grudges, Mirage added another mark to the line for Karl UnJak on his shitlist as a dagger dug into the right side of his back, fully cracking his shield and tearing down into the skin and muscle of the legend.

“Running out of luck, you hate to see it!”

Mirage swung back against the unmade host and went wide, missing him as he retreated back into the shadows. The trickster split and stood back to back with himself, keeping eyes on the trio approaching while looking out for UnJak. The assassin dove at him again, this time instead being deflected by a well positioned trophy parry. Karl hid once again, continuing his frustratingly elusive act and allowing the trio of Jasons to finally catch up. Mirage grasped at straws for a plan, he would need to resort to drastic measures.

Planning a method of attack.

Mirage glanced between each opponent, trying to size up their threat and ways he could throw them off, but the unmade host was right, he was outnumbered, even with having his own back. Then again, that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some use out of his enemy.

Mirage sent another decoy out, keeping it close as they took a defensive stance, trying hard to keep in position as the Jasons advanced, Karl UnJak to the side ready for his opportunity, and Mirage feeling like he was marooned on an island surrounded by sharks.The attacks finally came, the trio having coordinated their lunged along with the unmade host. Mirage lined up with himself to lure in each attack, dodging a first pair of machetes before holding the last one with his trophy.

He could practically feel the anticipation as Karl UnJak drove a blade into his back once more, on the other side, his lungs beginning to struggle to find breath. He relaxed his block and allowed it to push through, deflecting it onto his shoulder, slicing cleanly into his left shoulder and into Karl UnJak’s chest. The trickster gasped before tucking into a spring and splitting off again behind some more rubble.

He could only hear the coughing fit Karl UnJak suffered at the moment in spurts, as his own breaths burned into his lungs. His left arm felt numb, and the nerves in his shoulder fired sharply from the deep laceration. Mirage could barely hold his last two shield cells as he charged his shield, only able to fill it to half capacity.

Mirage felt the last of the feeling in his left arm fade as he grabbed the XO-16 chaingun and fired it with one hand, its accuracy deeply affected by the lack of control without using a second. How Jason managed without one for so long was beyond Mirage’s comprehension. The barrage pummeled into a Jason that turned the corner, sending him stumbling before the rest of the clip forced him to the ground. Mirage tossed the gun to the side, resorting to his Wingman once more. A single shot finished off the crawling Jason, the tension quickly ridding from his body as it relaxed on the bloody stone.

“You guys should stop stealing my moves.” The legend took a breather as he slowly loaded one more shot into his wingman. “C’mon, nobody remembers my Mirage à trois joke? Definitely stole it from me.” He had a half-charged shield and ten total shots of his Wingman left.

Of course he knew how to count.

Chh Chh Chh Ahh Ahh Ahh

1499 words according to gdocs

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
“The Gauntlet”
Ridley, Mirage, Musashi, Azula, Roy Mustang, Strazio Rockwell, Karl UnJak​

There was maybe a pair of them left.

Two steel-plated serial killers against an assortment of (mostly) deranged lunatics.

The dragon and the ronin remained locked in their duel.

The pair of walking one-liners were off in some other corner of the area, hunkered down in cover and likely debating their next sassy retort.

That left the two Jasons to try and deal with the angry man, the angrier girl, and the would-be commander.

One of the Jason’s lurched forward, with machete at the ready as the white-haired warrior with the manic eyes grabbed the nearest sharp object he could and willed the cyborg forward. “Come on, you fuck,” he seethed as he tossed his own machete between his sweaty palms as he waited for the lumbering behemoth to get within range.

The Jason, his own weapon clenched in his robotic fist, swung down at the snarling maniac. Despite, like all those around him, his mounting wounds, Strazio still moved seamlessly, likely some side effect of a few gallons of adrenaline metaphorically burning their way through his veins. He drove the machete at Jason’s leg, but even though it should have been made from the same reinforced steel material as the monster, the blade just scrapped and bounced, eliciting some sparks as it danced across the surface.

“Fucking useless,” Strazio growled as he turned the machete sideways and opted to use it as a club instead.

Not one to wilt under the pressure, the Jason absorbed the spattering of open blows before managing to defend himself. Able to use just one hand to parry the attacks, the masked killer started to move forward once again, prompting his assailant to reverse-step.

Never one to be caught on their heels, Strazio instead opted to throw himself forward. Lunging onto Jason’s chest, the white-haired magus looped one arm around the machine’s slimy neck, and with the other, he started unloading a spree of hammering strikes onto the tops and sides of Jason’s exposed head. Red blossoms erupted across the cyborg’s skin as the strikes cleaved through layers of tissue, but like many things in Strazio’s life, the impacts came at the cost of inadvertently tearing his own scarred and burnt flesh.

With an oversized hand, Jason eventually clasped it around Strazio’s throat.

The man, for his part, kept swinging until the lack of oxygen started to blur his vision. Before he could succumb to that, Strazio Rockwell grabbed the top of Jason’s mask with his bloody, mangled hands and yanked at the plate until it tore apart from the skin and the adjacent cybernetic attachments. With a burst of sparks from the broken mountings, Jason’s grip softened enough for his intended quarry to slip free and drop back to the ground.

“Ugly mother fucker,” Strazio muttered as he discarded the mask. “Bet that mushy face of yours isn’t fucking machete-proof,” he added before collecting the weapon he had discarded just a minute or two prior.

Any other villain would have likely had a pre-canned response, but the Uber Jason merely marched forward to meet its intended victim.

True to his threat, Strazio dodged the opening machete strike by the skin of his teeth and proceeded to bury his own blade through Jason’s face.

And much as you might expect, a machete through the face is enough to fell even the mightiest of foes.

***​

The remaining Jason turned at the sound of the heavy, echoing thud. Even with ‘out there’ shrouded in the darkness beyond the chamber’s central light source, the silent cyborg understood what had happened.

This was it.

He was no longer ‘Uber Jason’.

He was ‘Omega Jason’.

***​

Cradled behind a collapsed column, Roy Mustang tried to catch his breath. Out there in the near darkness of the Vault’s basement, there were precious few allies remaining for him. Mirage, certainly, but the wise-cracking lieutenant and his bag of optical illusions was unaccounted for, and even if he was alive, he was likely separated from the lieutenant colonel by an assortment of hostile parties.

Perhaps worse than the unspeaking cyborgs was Azula, who seemed to be beyond all reason. With the introduction of the Jason to their squabble, he’d managed to seemingly give her the slip, but it was clear to Roy that she wouldn’t stop until everyone in this chamber was dead.

He’d come here to fight the unmade, and Roy was fairly certain that the vast majority of his time had been spent fighting… the not-unmade. If people who should be his allies were worse than the monster, that didn’t bode well for the Crossroads-at-large. Hopefully, this ‘season’ of Karl Jak’s flagship franchise would be able to illuminate the importance of cooperation against greater threats, but by this point, Roy was well passed jaded in that department.

“Motherfuu—”

Roy winced as Strazio Rockwell passed through the air overhead before crashing into the far wall with a wet, spine-crunching thwack.

Yet, impossibly enough, the glorified walking corpse was still too angry to die. The thought of violence yet to be had spurned on the crippled magus as he got his arms underneath his chest and forced his shattered form to a vertical position.

“I’ve got your back,” Roy spoke softly as Strazio passed by him. The crazed man paused mid-step to look down at the officer.

“It’s harder to kill things from cover,” the walking corpse deadpanned before he walked by Roy’s position.

Feeling like he was the last man standing in a world that had gone to insanity, Roy rose to his feet and conjured two fistfuls of fire. While he had intended to leash them Jason to create a diversion for Strazio, the lieutenant colonel found himself forced to dive for new cover as a jet of flames scorched the air nearby.

As flames danced in the air behind him, Strazio Rockwell lurched and limped toward the sole remaining Jason. Unlike the others, this one just seemed to be content to watch the burnt, stabbed, and bludgeoned man stalk toward him.

“It’s fine,” Strazio wheezed before flashing a bloody, tooth-deprived smile at the cyborg. “I’ll be right there.”

Jason dropped his machete and squeezed both of his hands into fists as the unarmed Rockwell approached. The display only served to entertain Strazio more, and when he was within range, he leashed out with a punch. When his fist made contact with the side of Jason’s head, the magus winced as he felt every single bone in his hand shattered on impact.

A beat later, Jason stepped forward and kicked Strazio once again into the wall of the sub-Vault chamber.

As he went to advance on his foe, Jason was bathed in a burst of flames from a momentarily unoccupied Roy Mustang.

Fifteen yards away, Strazio’s features were contorted into a terrifying grimace he tried to once again will himself up to his feet. Unfortunately, the impact had shattered his rib cage and filled his lungs with pieces of rib, and it was a bitch to get moving if you couldn’t breath without spurting blood out your chest.

A shadow fell over Strazio.

“Fuck off,” the man groaned as Azula crouched down in front of him.

“You know, I gave you a home after your team abandoned you,” Azula spoke as she planted the tip of a machete into Strazio’s thigh and proceeded to calmly lean over the weapon, gradually driving it down into the underlying tissue. “You should have been grateful,” she rasped as she slammed the blade down until it popped out the other side of the man’s leg and into the stone floor below.

Never one for eloquence, Strazio grabbed as his mangled, half-open chest. His fist closed around the end of an exposed rib, and before Azula quite figure out what he was up to, the laboring warrior tore the bone out from his chest and stabbed it into the woman’s thigh.

With a scream that was more rage than pain, Azula tore the machete out from Strazio’s thigh and decapitated the now smiling warrior.

Strazio Rockwell is DEAD. He will be reanimated at the Syntech Revitalization Station and be sent to a World of his choice.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
“The Gauntlet”
Ridley, Mirage, Musashi, Azula, Roy Mustang, Karl UnJak​

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang heard Azula’s shriek from elsewhere in the Vault chambered and secretly crossed his fingers that she had finally met her end.

Glancing up over the top of his newest batch of cover, Roy saw the approaching Jason and knew that he’d have to be creative if he ever planned to overcome this monster. Unlike their last clash, Roy was weaker, and this Jason somehow seemed monolithic in comparison to the one he had bested back near the start of this ill-fated expedition.

With his breathing back under control and a plan starting to piece together in his mind, Roy popped up from cover and leashed a burst of fire toward Jason. As the solider had anticipated, the cyborg was unaffected, even as the flames continued to simmer along his exposed flesh. Withdrawing, Roy kept his eyes glued to the periphery as he awaited the eruption of azure flames from any and every direction. His heart hoped she was dead, but despite all the bad luck he’d experienced, Roy was no fool.

Reaching his intended destination, Mustang slipped behind the column and took a brief moment to assess his wounds. It took him a few more tries than he would have liked, but the State Alchemist sparked the flint and iron and turned his own powers on himself—scalding the machete wound he had absorbed earlier.

Eight seconds.

Hoping that this particular Jason didn’t suddenly decide to break into a sprint, Roy eyed the discarded machete that was eight feet northwest of his position. Before he made his move, he was frozen in place by a flash of fire that light up the Vault sub-chamber, but after that initial twitch, he noted that it was the dragon, still seemingly locked in a duel with Musashi.

If he could overcome Jason, Roy knew he would need to hurry to assist the ronin. She was talented, and the dragon had absorbed a number of injuries over the last few weeks, but like many monsters of this island, Ridley seemed to have a supernatural degree of endurance.

Go!

Roy shoved off from the pillar just seconds before Omega Jason opted to simply walk through it. While he knew he’d regret it, the soldier dove the remainder of the way, and he managed to grasp the machete as he sailed over it. With an awkward roll that tore away some skin on his right shoulder, Roy managed to wind up back on his feet at the end of the maneuver, and he shift his focus back to the approaching serial killer.

Pocketing the flint and steel for the moment, the alchemist headed to his right—his eyes glued on an area he had outlined in the brief lull following the collapse of the Vault. With Jason in silent pursuit, Roy led him to the far southern edge of the sub-Vault chamber. Now bathed in darkness, the officer had spotted the fault lines along the wall earlier, when a clash of flames had illuminated the large subterranean area.

He proceeded to drag the machete along the stone wall until it started to get caught on the same fault lines he’d noted. “Okay.” Roy reassured himself quietly as he turned back to face the direction of his attacker. “Come… come and get me,” he declared as he inverted the machete and stabbed backwards into the rock wall.

While his vision had suffered greatly trying to continually adjust to changes in the ambient light, Roy could see the somewhat shiny outline of Jason, and even if that hadn’t been the case, he could hear the thump of the cyborg’s metal-encased boots as they slammed into the cave floor.

But before Jason could reach what was hoped to be a fatal trap, a roaring wall of sapphire flames splashed over the cyborg before threatening to consume a now diving Roy Mustang. Landing sharply onto his injured side, the alchemist winced as he looked back to where he had stood. The machete was still impaled into a now widened fissure in the rock wall. More than that, the flames had caused some of the moss and vines on the wall to catch fire, revealing that the structural integrity was far worse than even Roy had initially surveyed.

“Not much time,” he whispered to himself as he saw the crumbling of some dust particles from the roof. Despite her intentions, Azula had potentially saved his life for the moment by revealing just how dilapidated this area had been. With that thought in his mind, Roy had to scramble backwards as Jason, ignoring the fresh flames wreathed across his back and shoulders, advanced toward him. With time against him, Roy knew he couldn’t pull too far away, or he’d risk drawing the cyborg out of the collapse zone.

Yet, if he went too far in the opposite direction, he knew he’d be target practice for Azula, who likely lurked in the darkness nearby.

His eyes caught what seemed to be three or four gunshots in another corner of the Vault. Then they traced back to the sound of steel scraping against rock.

Azula be damned! Roy knew he had to stop Jason right here and now if it was within his power. If things went south, he could at least rest assured that he had removed one of the worst pieces from the playing field.

Scrambling to his feet, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang put a strained smile on his face as he rushed at the silent serial killer. An errant swing from Jason clipped him in the shoulder and sent him crashing against the rock wall, and while he felt a newfound ringing in his head, the officer clenched his teeth and shoved away before the next strike could find its mark.

When that second punch crashed through the rock, it set off the inevitable chain reaction.

Roy heard the splintering wheeze of the stone as it started to collapse. While he saw the glow of Azula’s fire up ahead, he banked on the cave in garnering her more immediate focus as he sprinted as best he could in her general direction.

Omega Jason, turning slowly to face the fleeing Roy Mustang, could only tilt his head as he was buried beneath several hundred tons of stone and earth.

By the time he had finished running and thrown himself forward into what he hoped was relative safety, Roy had fled almost the entire way back to the center of the Vault’s sub-level. Nearly a fourth of the area was now buried, and while he felt some relief at knowing the cyborg was likely gone, his immediate thoughts now shifted to whether or not the rest of the complex would collapse as well in due time.

“The others,” Roy whispered as he spun around. As he did, he came face-to-face with a smirking Azula, who drove a knife into his heart.

Shoving away immediately, the lieutenant colonel twisted around and toppled as the world started to slip away from him. As he lay dying, Roy was vaguely aware of Azula’s manic visage right next to his.

“Stand down,” she whispered softly as the man wheezed his last.

Roy Mustang is dead. He will be reanimated at the Syntech Revitalization Station and be sent to a World of his choice.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
“The Gauntlet”
Ridley, Mirage, Musashi, Azula, Karl UnJak​

Karl UnJak cursed beneath his breath as he ducked behind the column, just narrowly avoiding two gunshots as they punched cleanly through the stone, filling the air with twin poofs of particulate matter.

“You’re doing a lot of hiding,” Mirage shouted from behind cover of his own.

“Oh? Are we bantering now?” Karl UnJak replied. “I know you’re out of those stupid shield batteries, Mr. Witt. What happens when you run out of bullets and have nothing to defend yourself but that inferior charm and extremely punchable face?”

Mirage, who glanced down at the status of his weapon, merely smiled. “Yes, and if I recall correctly, Karl, you lost your weapon on our last little tryst.”

The unmade producer laughed out loud before scowling to himself. He had the stupid trickster dead to rights, but that infernal shield had more juice than he had assumed. If he’d just swung a little harder… As that thought swirled in his head, a voice from just a few feet away posed a simple question. “So, what’s it going to be?”

Without leaving his cover, Karl twisted his neck to look at the Mirage standing a few feet away. “You’re a decoy. Leave me alone.”

“Am I?” ‘the’ (The?) Mirage laughed as he started to hop from one foot to the other. “You want to risk that? I might have a big old gun behind my back.”

“Shut up!” Karl growled as he ducked down to grab a nearby piece of rubble. As he leaned into the throw, the stone passed through the hologram just as the rapport of the Wingman pistol shattered the otherwise momentarily still silence of the underground. Karl grimaced as the bullet passed just a few inches away from his humerus. The force of the round also twisted up the man, who flailed his arms a bit before he fell to the ground in a tangle.

As Karl struggled to right himself, a shadow fell over him. A shadow that was attached to man holding a gun at his face.

“How many bullets you fired since the final time you reloaded, Mr. Witt?” Karl muttered between grimacing on the floor. “What’s the mag capacity on a Wingman?”

“Something tells me you have a guess already, Karl,” Mirage spoke with a sneer. “But, in that case, you’ll also know there’s about a half dozen variables that might influence the real answer.”

“True,” the producer grimaced. “But you underestimated me, Mr. Witt.”

“Before you do anything stupid, you should probably ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?” Mirage cocked the hammer of the pistol. “Well do ya, punk?”

The holographic trickster narrowed his eyes as he waited for the producer to yield or do something stupid. Instead, a machete jammed its way into the small of his back and out through his stomach. Eyes wide, Mirage threw his head backwards on sheer stupid instinct as he turned and fired a pair of bullets at his assailant, catching him once near the center of the forehead. As that Karl UnJak lurched backwards, the one who had been lying on the floor sprung up, grabbed the machete handle, and wrenched it sideways through the man’s abdomen.

“Bamboozled.” Karl seethed as a toppling Mirage managed to fire one last time. The impact caused Karl UnJak to shudder as he immediately heard the spatter of blood on the ground all around him.

“I didn’t miss,” Mirage muttered from his spot on the ground.

For his part, Karl UnJak, hand clasped over the wound in his chest, stumbled back and crashed into a broken pillar.

Even as one of them bled out and the other was crushed, the pair of men—one deviously handsome and the other the epitome of all that was villainous—managed to die with similar smug grins on their faces.

As the dust settled, a shadow fell over the scene.

Azula loomed over Mirage’s corpse, and even though she knew the man was dead, she took a few moments to frantically saw his head off with the bloodstained knife grasped in her scalded, mangled fist. Once she felt the blade scrap against the stone, Azula stood up and kicked the severed head back into the dark.

Right eye twitching as she moved, the princess turned back to the body of the unmade producer. The column had crushed most of him, but jutting out from his left sleeve, she noticed something a little peculiar. After taking a moment to collect the object from the corpse, Azula turned the grotesque, horror-movie effigy that was her face toward the final spectacle to be had in this dark, dreary cavern.

Mirage is dead. He will be reanimated at the Syntech Revitalization Station and be sent to a World of his choice.

Karl UnJak is dead. He returns to where all Karl Jak’s go when they die in televised events.

…Back to the Jak.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
“The Gauntlet”
Ridley, Musashi, Azula​

‘Sashi’ and Ridley had been dueling for what felt like hours when Azula threw herself at the back of the dragon and took a bite out of the space pirate’s neck.

The dragon grabbed the adolescent off his back and threw her to the ground, but with a fire in her eyes that had long since burned out whatever shreds of human decency Azula may have had, the princess drew Ladon from her back and glanced over at Musashi, who held her blade at the ready.

While she had a thousand more questions in her mind about why the young woman was drenched in blood and dotted with burns, the ronin opted for a less potentially offensive inquiry. “Have we met formally? I usually go by Musashi.”

“I don’t care.” Azula whispered as she looked back at the heaving, part-mechanical abomination that—like many others in this temple—refused to die normally. “How long have you fought this… thing?”

“Too long,” the other woman remarked before a burst of plasma caused the two fighters to dive in opposite directions.

From the mouth of the unmade dragon, a terrible and incomprehensible scream issued forth. With his body seeming to literally be burning itself apart, the dragon seethed as he turned his head toward a sneering Azula, whose jagged patchwork mouth of teeth just seemed to be the perfect complement to the blood and viscera that caked her hair in place or the patches of still bubbling flesh from earlier burn wounds.

“Die,” the princess barked as she threw out a palm with three and a half fingers and leashed a stream of azure flames that were met in the space between the pair by a burst of plasma.

While he wanted to savory this exchange—especially the part where he overwhelmed and annihilated the fire bender—Ridley heard the thump of footfalls on the assortment of debris that littered the floor of the sub-Vault cavern. The other she was attempting to flank him, and while his mind continued to spiral into that dark, primal place, fragments of Ridley’s consciousness remained to trigger him of what was to unfold.

Twisting sharply, Ridley kicked off the ground and threw himself toward Musashi, who evaded the first swinging blow but failed to react quickly enough to avoid a second erratic strike. Laced as it was with burning pitch still oozing from the dragon’s hideous, broken carcass, the impact not only threw the ronin but nearly set her aflame.

Landing sharply, Musashi instinctively grabbed the nearby blade as her eyes caught what seemed to be a distant part of the chamber crumbling. With a newfound understanding that failure to overcome this dragon could mean being buried alive beneath the Vault, the ronin scrambled up to her feet, settled into a stance, and braced herself for Ridley.

Yet the dragon never came barreling in her direction.

Instead, she heard a guttural shriek as a lunging space pirate was blasted from the sky with a burst of flames.

“Press the attack!” Azula screamed almost incomprehensibly from the other side of a shrunken combat area. “Kill it!”

Musashi, with Zenitsu’s katana clenched firmly in her grasp, rushed forward. She swung the blade, but even in what amounted to extended death throes, Ridley eluded the downward slash. The burning monstrosity made it to his feet, his shadow falling down over the ronin as the Vault crumbled further in the background.

“Muusssashiii,” the feral, unmade dragon rasped as he lurched forward, jaws snapping intermittently as its prey continued to remain elusive.

For her part, Azula reappeared just moments after barking commands across the battlefield. The princess drove the blade of Stheno’s weapon into Ridley’s flank as the space pirate tried to make on final lunge at the ronin, who had braced herself for what she thought was to be an opening for a counterattack. Instead, a shrieking Ridley wobbled, twisted, and crashed into her. The dragon’s superheated bulk scalded Musashi’s skin through her remaining gear, and she had to act quickly to avoid catching fire or being stained with the monster’s burning ichor.

Crawling to his feet and making it up to his hands and knees, Ridley once again snapped his jaws at Musashi, who scooped up the nearest piece of stone and hurtled it at the dragon’s visage.

Azula rushed to retrieve her blade, but the space pirate contorted its body and managed to close its jaws around the princess right shoulder. The princess—her remaining teeth pressed so tight that her gums turned white—grabbed Ridley by the sides of the face and flushed the dragon’s head with a wave of flames. Almost immediately, the jaws that held her went slack as a screaming Ridley reeled back.

As the dragon lumbered, Musashi dashed forward and swung Zenitsu’s blade with all her remaining strength. The blade cleaved through Ridley’s right shoulder, severing wing and arm alike as the space pirate fell sideways.

For her part, Musashi stumbled and hopped out of the way as more of the burning pitch that oozed from the dying dragon sprayed out into the Vault. When she turned, she saw that Ridley was staring at her, unable to rise up from the ground once again.

“You are finished.” Musashi growled. “Your path of destruction and death ends here.”

Ridley smiled as the remaining portions of his body started to bulge and splinter. “Then we all die!”

That was all the two young women needed, as both turned and ran just as the space pirate’s beleaguered body erupted in a thunderous plasma burst that took the majority of the underground chamber with him.

For their part, Azula and Musashi headed to the center of the room, but they were both swept up in the massive shockwave and wall of dust and particles as it washed over the Vault chamber.

Musashi, her vision and hearing impaired as she crashed to the ground, willed herself forward—toward the center of the chamber. If anything, the beacon of light seemed like a good enough objective. Before she could reach it, she heard a distinct crack from overhead, and after turning onto her back to get a better look, a falling piece of masonry came crashing down onto her legs. With a scream, the ronin lost consciousness after a brief struggle against the pain.

***​

With a gasp, Musashi regained consciousness. As her eyes slowly refocused, she realized that she was half buried in debris. “Can’t feel my legs,” she whispered through lightly clenched teeth as she tried to lift herself into an upright position. Despite her efforts, she quickly realized that her left arm was likewise buried or pinned under something. Twisting her back, she started trying to brush aside the fallen stone and rock.

Then the shadow fell over her, and the ronin turned her focus back to see a haggard Azula standing over her.

“You’re alive,” Musashi remarked. “Can you help me? I’m stuck.”

In response, Azula dropped down onto the woman’s chest. The princess drew her knife and used it to skewer the ronin’s hand into the debris pile. As Musashi cried out, Azula close one hand around her neck and the other around her mouth and nose.

“Sleep,” Azula hissed as she lowered her face down toward the fallen warrior’s wide-eyed visage. “Sleep.” She repeated with a tooth-deprived smile as she choked the life out of the partially crushed ronin.

When Musashi’s eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she finally stopped squirming and grumbling, a grinning Azula slashed her throat open before rising up away from the corpse and turning her garish visage up toward the midday light that shone down through the Vault.

They had doubted her.

They had double-crossed her.

They had tried to murder her. To stop her rightful ascent.

And now they were all dead.

And she was triumphant.

Bow. Down.

As Azula started to cackle, the remainder of the Vault collapsed down onto her.

Ridley is dead. He, as ‘normal Ridley’, will be revived at the Syntech Revitalization Station and be provided with transit to the World of his choice.

Musashi is dead. She will be revived at the Syntech Revitalization Station and be provided with transit to the World of her choice.

Azula wins the Gauntlet and suffers catastrophic, near-death injuries in the process. She’ll be recovered alive from the rubble, revived at the Syntech Revitalization Station, and ‘signed out’ by her ‘legal guardian’, who will take her to a medical facility back on Opealon.

Azula wins the Gauntlet prize, which was the Relic held by Karl UnJak.