[Preshow] The Dojo

[Karl Jak]

This area contains a mixture of gym equipment and physical fitness courses. Classes are available for signups, much like you'd find in a public gym. There are even a few private dojos where people can get in some last minute training in anything ranging from combat to general survival skills. Lessons are available for signup for those who have limited experience camping or being by themselves in the wilderness.

 

[Gilgamesh]

Gilgamesh recoiled as the newest competitor softly punched his shoulder. He briefly turned to give Roy a dirty look as he entered the bar. The King remembered the odd mix that Karl Jak had recruited the previous few times, but it seemed that this competition was filled with an extraordinarily bizarre batch of contestants. Through his brief interactions, he had determined that each of them was a worm. Worms that should be crushed underneath his golden boot. However, his untimely demise in each of the previous contests has shown that when these insects rise up, they can be lethal. To Karl Jak, Gilgamesh was no better than any of these mongrels. His brows furrowed together in anger. Karl Jak looks at Gilgamesh no more than a tool, a joke.

“Not this year,” Gilgamesh whispered to himself, before walking out of the Recreation Dome, his hands shamefully buried into his pockets. Hopefully, he was leaving the more degenerate contestants behind him. He saw more and more patrons flood the comet as he left. Eventually, he reached back into the ornate lobby, a monument to Karl Jak. A monument that should instead be dedicated to the one true King. Instead of looking where to go next in this glorified shopping mall, Gilgamesh let his feet take him to wherever they wanted to go.

While lost in thought, his mindless walking took him all the way into a different dome. A cheery voice broke him out of his trance, “How can I help you, Gilgamesh?” He blinked for a few times, regaining his composure and became aware of his surroundings. He had walked himself to the front desk of a different dome. Attending the desk was a cute girl, no older than 24. Her blonde hair cut off at her shoulders and her blue eyes were entrancing.

“Where am I?” Gilgamesh asked as if he were just rudely woken from a nap.

“You’re at the Dojo, sir. Are you interested in using the gym, taking a class, or any of our other services?” She chirped. The enthusiasm she radiated stung at his pride. Somehow Karl Jak was able to instill such loyalty and passion in his servants, that Gil hasn’t achieved since his original time as the King of Mesopotamia.

“Bring me to a shooting range,” Gilgamesh commanded. He had remembered his time with the lancer in his original debut of the Abyss. While the gun felt natural in his hand, the technology was much different than that of recklessly firing swords and spears at his foes.

She nodded and fetched a key on the corkboard next to her, “Please follow me!” She opened the small waste-high door and began to walk up the staircase, motioning for Gilgamesh to follow with her hand. After walking down a small hallway, she used the key to open a door. The room was initially pitch black, but she turned on the light switch, flickering the lights to life. Gilgamesh entered, noticing the numerous stalls. “Here you go sir,” she said, pointing to a random stall among the plethora. “What type of firearm will you be testing today?” she asked.

“Give me a rifle,” Gilgamesh decreed. He extended his hand, expectantly waiting for the firearm to magically appear in his hand. Eventually, she placed the weapon in his hand and the other accessories on the desk of the stall.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked with a smile.

“Leave me at once. I am a King. I don’t need to be watched by a lowly servant,” Gilgamesh hissed without turning his head. Almost immediately he put the earmuffs over his ears and began to load the rifle. He heard the muffled sound of the door closing and he let out a pained sigh. He flipped a switch and the target dummy in front of him began to move back and forth, albeit in a very predictable pattern. He brought up the rifle and looked through the scope, tracking the moving dummy. Imaging the dummy as Roy, he held his breath and put his finger on the trigger. ‘This is to show Karl Jak that I am King.’ He pulled the trigger. The bullet missed its mark, hitting the white portion of the dummy inches away from the head. Gilgamesh scowled as he pulled back the bolt, the empty round flying onto the ground. ‘This is for my new kingdom, Babylonia.’ He pulled the trigger again, the round burying itself into the dummy’s thigh. The Golden King muttered a few curses beneath his breath before pulling the bolt back one more time. ‘This is for me.’ He pulled the trigger and the bullet went through the head.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Arthur moseyed around the facility for a while, taking in the well-scrubbed floors and searingly bright lights with no small amount of consternation. It was all a bit too rich for his blood, but he supposed that the feller who owned this place, Jack or something, probably relished the finer things in life. Still, what bothered him even more about the convention facility was the machines all over the place, a new and unique kind he’d never seen before in his life littering the length of every hallway, dotting every corner. It was enough to drive a feller out of his gourd, so Arthur tried to focus on the people instead, not the bewildering amount of technology.

The people, as it turned out, were pretty ordinary. This was all well and good in Arthur’s book. Arthur liked ordinary. Ordinary made special things seem even more special, made the mind-boggling even more so. The overabundance of shiny machines and flashing images was too much, almost oversaturated if he focused on it all for too long. The people, though, were a welcome sight for sore eyes— a visual break from the mass of unfamiliar sights assaulting his senses. He enjoyed looking at them far more, liked trying to figure out what they were up to or where they was headed.

So when he glimpsed a pale-skinned figure with a shock of ginger hair turning into a room down the hall he was currently wandering, Arthur was naturally curious. What was that little feller who’d welcomed him to this place up to?

Upon reaching the glass door to the room, Arthur paused to inspect the sign next to it.

“‘The Dojo’,” Arthur read aloud, carefully pronouncing the word. He paused, listening to the sounds of a scuffle from within— the meaty thunk of a fist striking against something and the occasional beleaguered grunt. “Suppose that’s Spanish for fightin’ place.”

Well, he liked fighting well enough. After an uncertain moment where he failed to locate the door handle against the shiny double panes of glass, Arthur managed to slip inside.

Once inside, Arthur glanced around. The place had smoothly lacquered wooden floors and a high ceiling layered with screen-like windows, the roof supported by beams done up in red paint. A beautiful miniature building bordered by two leafy branches sat on a nearby table, several pieces of pottery placed before it and accented with shimmering gold.

“Yah!” came a harsh shout from deeper inside the dojo.

Stepping past the entryway and giving one last considering look to the little shrine, Arthur glanced around for the cry’s source. It didn’t take him long to spot Kevin, the kid from the Dante’s Abyss arrival point, absolutely beating the tar out of a cylindrical bag hanging by a chain from the ceiling. Red in the face and sweating up a storm, Kevin continued to strike the bag with fists, apparently not having noticed his audience.

Just as he was about to step over and offer some pointers, a weird green feller appeared from out of nowhere to get in Arthur’s way, a sharp-toothed grin splitting across his froggy features.

“Hello, sir!” greeted the green frog feller, who was at least half Arthur’s height and wearing a pointy red cap. The ex-outlaw had to crane his neck downward to make eye contact. “How can I help you today? We have a marvelous selection of workout equipment to choose from!”

“Not interested,” said Arthur, trying to walk past. To his dismay, the frogman again veered into his path, insistent.

Still grinning winningly, the frogman gave Arthur a light swat on the side of his leg. “Hah! Oh, you silly goose. You’ll have to rent something or sign up for a class to come in. We can’t have people crowding our space if they’re not using our services. You understand, don’t you?”

Now slightly annoyed but trying not to let it show, Arthur raised an eyebrow at the froggy guy. “It free?”

“Oh, but of course,” rejoined the frog, bouncing up onto the balls of his... webbed feet.

Arthur considered this seriously. After a moment of deliberation, he looked to the frog. “Then I’d like some knives to practice with, made for throwin’. Maybe a gun.”

“Certainly!” the frogman chirped. “We have quite a selection of ranged weapons up that staircase and down the hall, I think you’ll be quite impressed by our stockpile of firearms. Please, help yourself.”

Steering around the amphibious attendant and heading for the stairs, Arthur very nearly collided with a young blonde woman hurriedly walking down them.

“Whoa there,” said Arthur, reaching out to gently steady her before putting some distance between them. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s alright,” said the blonde with a smile, seeming a little harried. “Were you headed up to the shooting range?”

Arthur nodded. “I was.”

The young woman bit her lip, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, you might not want to right now…” she trailed off, glancing meaningfully up the stairs.

Immediately, Arthur straightened up. “There somebody givin’ you trouble up there, ma’am?”

“Oh! No, no. It’s just this guy, says he’s a king. He shooed me out of there real quick, didn’t seem very keen on others being around to watch him practice…”

Arthur raised a skeptical brow. “A king? You’re telling me a king is up there, right now, practicing with a gun?”

At the blonde’s nod, Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “This place really is something else.”

Delicately stepping around her and tipping his hat in thanks, Arthur started up the steps, listening hard for any signs of life. He paused at the top of the steps, unsure of where to go, but perked up at the explosive sound of a gun firing, the easily recognizable sound muffled through the obviously reinforced walls.

With quiet steps, Arthur paced over to a closed door located at the end of a short hallway. Listening for a moment at the door, Arthur lightly grasped the handle, debating on whether he should enter.

Another gunshot rang out from inside, followed by a muffled curse or two. Arthur grinned privately to himself. Seemed that Mr. King was having some difficulties performing.

Opening the door soundlessly, Arthur stepped inside, glancing around at the numerous stalls lining the front of the room. Each stall faced a long range, at the end of which were either still targets or a human-shaped dummy. And leaning into one of these booths with a long rifle in his hands was a blond-haired man who could only be the king. Arthur could tell he was a king, too, from the gold accenting his fine clothes and the permanent-looking sneer on his face.

“This is for me,” spat the king, glaring down the range. He fired the gun, part of the dummy head he was directing his rage at fairly exploding into shreds of cotton.

Clearly satisfied with his work, the king removed the little muffs covering his ears, a small smirk curving his lips.

Arthur whistled loudly, impressed. He strolled over, admiring the stuffing leaking out of the dummy. “That was a nice shot, partner! Miiight want to loosen your deathgrip on that trigger there, though. Loosen up a bit until you’re hardly tapping it with the pad of your finger— right, just like that, you’re a real natural. Now it’ll be easier to make the shot.”

 

[Gilgamesh]

Right as Gilgamesh saw that his shot had hit his mark, he breathed a sigh of relief and pulled down his earmuffs. A small, satisfied smirk came over his face as he let down the rifle from his shoulder.

“That was a nice shot, partner! Miiight want to loosen your deathgrip on that trigger there, though.” Gilgamesh was started by the unknown presence in the room. He turned his head, to see a gruff older man striding up to him. The man’s gait oozed natural confidence and swagger. He pointed towards the rifle that Gilgamesh was holding before continuing, “Loosen up a bit until you’re hardly tapping it with the pad of your finger.” The Golden King looked down to see that his hands had unconsciously and awkwardly grappled the gun. He relaxed his grip and brought the rifle back up, aiming at the already damaged target. “Right, just like that, you’re a real natural. Now it’ll be easier to make the shot,” the man grinned. Gilgamesh resisted the urge to yank his finger on the trigger and instead listened to the man’s instructions, gently pressing on it. The weapon let out a bang as the bullet whizzed through the air before tearing through the target dummy’s cotton stomach. The gruff cowboy whistled as if impressed with the shot. The praise, even if faux, inflated the King’s ego.

Gilgamesh brought the gun down from his shoulder and leaned it precariously against the stall. He turned to access his new visitor. “It has been quite some time since I have handled such a weapon, the help is appreciated,” Gilgamesh trailed off. He looked Arthur up and down, the overall attitude and demeanor of the man tipped him off that he was to be a competitor for the upcoming abyss. The way the man held himself, Gilgamesh knew that he was more than competent. If this wasn’t the abyss, Gilgamesh would try to gain the admiration of the cowboy. However, he knew that this would likely end with the two of them doing battle on the island. “From the looks of it, you are not one of Karl’s servants,” Gilgamesh remarked.

“ ‘Fraid not. I heard that this Karl feller was offering quite the prize for this shindig. I thought it might be worth a shot,” Arthur said as he leaned against the stall.

Gilgamesh laughed, “The prize?” He regained his composure and continued, wiping a tear from his eye, “I often forget that commoners often risk their lives for such wealth. It is quite amusing when such treasures pale in comparison to my own.”

“I did happen to overhear that you were a king,” Arthur remarked casually as if it wasn’t the most surprising thing he had heard today.

Gilgamesh smirked and nodded, “You would have heard correct. I am King Gilgamesh, ancient King of Babylonia,” He paused to take in his own ego for a second. “Though I suppose it is only fair, to allow you to introduce yourself as well,” Gilgamesh nodded, gesturing for the cowboy to do the same.

“Why that’s mighty kind of you. Arthur Morgan, at your service,” Arthur commented as he tipped his hat.

“Arthur…” Gilgamesh took in the man’s name. “It would be a waste if I were to end your journey so early on the island. Might you swear fealty to me so that I may aid you on the island?” Gilgamesh looked intensely into Arthur’s eyes, awaiting a response.

“I’m ‘fraid not, sir. I don’t do the whole ‘fealty’ thing,” Arthur shook his head, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Pity. Your talents would have served useful to me,” Gilgamesh frowned. “I suppose we aren’t enemies quite yet. Might you assist me more with this firearm?” Gilgamesh pondered.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

“Well, sure. But only if you s’pose we ain’t enemies just yet, partner,” drawled Arthur, the king’s words drawing an honest chuckle out of him.

The intense and well-dressed (despite the slightly disarrayed state of his clothing) man standing opposite him nodded, seeming satisfied with this response. It was then that something about him caught Arthur’s eye. A black strip of metal, fastened securely around the royal’s throat.

“Say, feller. Why’re you wearing that?” asked Arthur, not bothering to specify what, exactly, he was referring to. “Don’t look comfortable at all.”

“My finery was tailored to my specifications exactly,” said Gilgamesh, primly picking at his sleeve. “It is attire fit for a king.”

Arthur flapped his hand, dismissing the offended look that’d begun to spark in the golden king’s eyes. “No, no. Not that. The… doohickey ‘round your neck.”

There was a long pause as Arthur’s conversation partner went pale, hand trailing up to graze at his neck.

“...the collar?” Gilgamesh finally asked, seeming faint.

“Yessir.”

“You are not wearing one on your person, merely hidden from my sight?”

“No, sir.”

Teeth clenched in a sudden incandescent fury, Gilgamesh balled his hands into fists, words coming out in a sibilant hiss. “Curses. I should have anticipated that Karl Jak would find some additional way to shame me, new universe or no. To think... I, a king, shackled like a disobedient hound, while the other contestants walk these grounds unburdened...”

“Sure does seem that way,” readily agreed Arthur. He abruptly found himself caught under the full brunt of Gilgamesh’s seething glare, and swiftly raised his hands as if to yield. “I ain’t sayin’ it’s accurate. Just seems to be the case that this Jack feller has it out for you in particular, is all.”

“He truly does,” bemoaned Gilgamesh, sighing, and damned if Arthur didn’t feel sorry for the guy. He looked fit to collapse into a puddle of frustrated tears any minute now.

“Welp,” said Arthur, straightening up. “Best thing for it is to get even, feller. And we can start by picking out a gun that ain’t so tiny.”

Abandoning his casual lean against the wall, Arthur ambled over to the first in a series of glass cabinets positioned against the far side of the room and opened it. Inside was a whole heap of guns, most of a make and model he didn’t recognize, all black metal and ridiculous proportions. With a grumble, Arthur picked through them until he found something that looked a bit more reasonable.

“Don’t see the need for all these,” the ex-outlaw muttered to himself as he made his selection. He frowned as he picked up the less advanced weapon that’d been tucked into the very back corner of the storage case, layered with a grimy film of dust from disuse. “If it ain’t broke…”

Still, he wasn’t delusional enough to lie to himself that some of ‘em didn’t catch his eye. He just weren’t too interested in blowing away a whole army of men in one blast, was all.

Repeating shotgun in hand, Arthur returned to Gilgamesh’s side and switched weapons with him, setting the sleek rifle the king’d been using aside.

The blond-haired man made a face at the dusty weapon, turning it over in his hands to study the sturdy walnut stock and steel components. It had several minor dings and scratches from past usage, one side of the receiver marked with an ornately carved “WRACo.”

Red eyes flicked up to Arthur’s expectant face, aghast. “This weapon is clearly an antique.”

“No it ain’t,” Arthur frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s one of the finest firearms you can buy, if not the finest.”

“Perhaps where you are from, but look at the state of it! This… this relic is not fit to perform. It will explode in my face if I dare fire it!” exclaimed Gilgamesh, attempting to shove it back on Arthur.

Arthur took a long look at the shotgun after it was practically dumped into his arms. Sure, it looked a little rusted and the original finish had been chipped off in places, but overall, it was a spectacular gun. His fingers fairly itched with the compulsion to test it out on the targets over yonder, hankering for a little destruction in the face of all that’d happened to him in the past day alone.

“It’s just got a little bit of dust on it, Mr. King. Nothin’ a little elbow grease won’t work out,” Arthur reassured— not unkindly, already walking over to one of the stalls. “But if it bothers you that much, I’ll shoot it first.”

Pausing, Arthur checked to see if the gun was still loaded, grinning at the sight of the well-cleaned internals with not a speck of grease left inside the 30-inch rolled steel barrel; it weren’t loaded, but it still was almost as if someone’d prepped the weapon just for him. The grit on the outside was damn irresponsible, of course, and could do a world of hurt over time to the weapon’s overall quality, but it was functional. That were all that mattered, to him at least. He supposed that perhaps kings wanted presentation and style, as well, but Arthur wasn’t royalty despite his namesake. He’d make do.

Arthur braced the gun against his shoulder with one hand and dug around in his pockets with the other, eventually coming up with a shell and popping it inside the receiver. Totally ignoring the protective headgear and other such things available to him, Arthur brandished the gun with one hand and steadied it with the other in a series of economical movements that belied years of experience. Sucking in a steadying breath, Arthur squinted at the dummy positioned at the far side of the room, aiming down the sights, hammer firmly cocked.

Crack-BOOM! The deafening roar of the shotgun firing bounced off the walls of the range, the thunderous bang placing a concussive pressure on the eardrums of the two men.

Ears buzzing a little and the bones of his arms and fingers vibrating with excitement, Arthur lowered the gun, taking in the sight of the now considerably torn-up dummy. He looked around at Gilgamesh, an honest grin splitting his face.

“First lesson, feller. Even the rattiest, brokest, most goddamn ugly-looking thing you’ve seen in your life can still kill you. Hell, I weren’t even too sure if this beauty would work after all your carryin’ on…”

 

[Kopaka]

Kopaka sat down wearily in one of the thoroughly frozen chairs, which groaned and crackled under his robotic weight. He folded his hands under his chin, and leered once more at the 'Samoan to English Beginner's Handbook.'

Perhaps it had been sheer luck on Hillary's part, or a strange intersection of the passage she had selected, but learning Crossroads Common (also called 'English') was going slower than he had hoped. Not even his photographic memory banks were making his grasp of translating and re-translating words from four separate languages go any faster. To the Toa's credit, he could (slowly) read words in English now, but attempting to become truly literate was going to take more time. Perhaps a tutor could be arranged, or perhaps he could find a class somewhere. But now was not the time. His ability to read was functional, and it would have to suffice for the immediate future.

Despite his love of Libraries, the android felt restless. He rose from the table and marched out into the Library lobby once more. Hillary turned to greet him as she sucked down the remaining dregs of her iced coffee.

"All done? Feel like you can read now?" she chirped. Kopaka let out a frosty sigh, and shrugged his shoulders.

"After a fashion. Well enough for the time being." he hummed. The hobbit nodded and crossed one fuzzy foot over the other.

"So you...gonna look around a bit more before the show? Heading out?" she asked. Kopaka could detect her undertone of grief. He could tell that she was a lonely creature and had valued his company. Despite this, he had to focus his attentions elsewhere.

"Regrettably so. Your assistance will not be forgotten, Hillary. I call you 'ally'." Kopaka said solemnly. He placed a metallic hand on her counter as he swept past, not bearing to look back at the young creature who had been of such earnest help. Perhaps he would find a way to repay her one day. The Toa glanced around the busy intersection of the Lobby, doing his best to translate the signs and advertisements that bedecked every conceivable surface. He had already visited three of the available wings of this busy place; one remained unexplored.

The Dojo seemed quiet at first. If anything, it was more serene than the Library, filled with small fountains of water and a selection of delicate, potted greenery. It appealed to the Toa's sensibilities, and he spent some time walking around the strange equipment. He lifted a lever here, pushed a plate there, and quickly conceived the mechanical capabilities of the machines, at least...but their actual function was lost on him.

Next.

There came a dull thump from over head, and Kopaka reflexively looked in the source of the direction. When his sight failed to see through the ceiling, he let out a sharp, cold breath and looked around for signage that might point him in the direction of the noise.

F-I-R-I-N-G R-A-N-G-E

Those were the letters on the sign, but the actual meaning was lost on him. This was, after everything he had done, deeply frustrating. Three minutes back in the depths of the Crossroads, and he was already grasping at straws. The indication of Fire, however, piqued his interest. As Kopaka ascended the staircause, he heard a familiar voice at the top. Sure enough, as he pulled open the heavy doors, Arthur Morgan was standing next to another human-type entity. This one was more lean, was dressed in golden clothes, and stood with a posture that reminded the Toa of his own. A quick glance indicated that both contestants were armed with weapons similar to the shaman in the desert.

"Well howdy again, partner. Er..." Arthur said, turning to face the other human, "...this here's Gilgamesh."

The other human cleared his throat quite audibly.

"King...Gilgamesh. And this is Kopaka." Arthur went on, gesturing at the android.

"Toa of Ice." Kopaka finished. He offered a curt nod to Arthur and a short bow to Gilgamesh, and walked further into the room. Initial analyses indicated that this was a practice area for firearms of all kinds. It struck the bionicle as odd that Syntech would give contestants access to deadly weapons before the competition had started. The Toa glanced at the cabinet and immediately plucked the largest, heaviest weapon available, labeled 'M249'.

Arthur blew a low whistle.

"You know how to work that contraption, partner?" the cowboy asked, putting down his shotgun and ambling over to Kopaka. Gilgamesh scoffed.

"Trying to show off, are we? Killing with such a...blunt instrument takes no skill." the king jeered. Kopaka nodded.

"I agree, your highness. No, I am simply curious." Kopaka said softly. Arthur and Gilgamesh looked at one another with pleasantly bemused expressions. The android immediately set to work stripping and dismantling the device down to its very springs. His hands may have been cold and metal, but they worked deftly and intuitively on the deadly machine.

"Machinery...robotics...these things come naturally to a Toa." Kopaka said, partially to himself. He picked up the scope from the weapon's rail and peered through it thoughtfully.

"I am learning more about humans, and their maskless faces. Information is valuable." the android buzzed, proceeding to remove individual cartridges from the drum magazine. He laid them out in perfect rows on the countertop next to the perfectly aligned components of the gun. When he was finished, he turned and looked up at the two other contestants.

"Pretext, on the other hand, is wasted time. Tell me; do either of you know how to read? I require a teacher." Kopaka finished. His tone was polite, but cold and unemotional. He expected this to be a fair transaction, and like any fair trade, devoid of emotional investment.

 

[Gildarts]

The battlemage wearing sunglasses entered the dojo, his automated body lead him around the room in a senseless fashion. If one listened closely, they might hear a snore. Once upon a time drunk fighting was considered the ultimate way to fight, but maybe, just maybe, sleep fighting was the best way to test one’s reflexes and alertness.

There was a small display where Gildarts stood, a video representation of a class being performed. He heard in the distance muffled movements of others. Slowly, the voices were rousing him from his sedative induced slumber.

Still, he lay slouched, dazed, and with his eyes shut. All the while standing in his erect body skeleton.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

As the metal man spoke in that deliberate, toneless voice of his, Arthur found himself listening with great interest, especially when the Toa began to disassemble one of the more intimidating weapons with sure, quick movements.

“Sure, I know how to read,” said Arthur, looking over the gun parts organized neatly on the countertop. His eyes glinted, bright with curiosity. “Don’t know much about these particular guns, though. You sayin’ that if I help you learn to read a bit better, you can teach me a thing or two about this one here?”

Kopaka nodded, his oddly mechanical-seeming face utterly impassive. “That is the arrangement I have proposed.”

“Well then, partner, I think we’ve got ourselves a deal!” the former outlaw said, already looking around for a place where the two could comfortably sit down. He spotted some chairs set against the wall beside the door and set off in that direction with purpose.

“Really?” Gilgamesh demanded, a bit flustered and staring at Arthur’s retreating back. “You would sacrifice your valuable time and the opportunity to prepare for the upcoming contest… to teach this… this stranger how to read?”

Arthur chuckled, dropping into a seat. He leaned forward, lifted an eyebrow at Gilgamesh. “This feller here ain’t a stranger. He sat at my fire, that makes him good company. ‘Sides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting to learn something new. I’m happy to help,” he added good-naturedly, gesturing for Kopaka to take the seat beside him. The Toa did so, carefully levering himself into the tiny metal folding chair.

The golden king sniffed, turning his nose up at the cowboy’s… earnestness. “Fine, your funeral. You will likely be forced to kill each other on the island. Also, you agreed to assist me.”

“Ah, well,” said Arthur sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He had agreed to do that, hadn’t he. “I can give you some pointers from over here, your highness. Ain’t a problem. And I think you’ve about got it, anyway.”

Still blatantly sore about losing his makeshift firearm instructor, Gilgamesh turned away in a huff to face the range. Sure enough, when he raised the shotgun to aim down the range, he did so with a much better grip and posture. Arthur smiled at that, turning to the business at hand.

What he found upon looking at Kopaka was a feller clearly steeled for a rough go of it. The Toa was tense, seeming unsure where to place his limbs in relation to the chair’s arms and legs. What’s more, there was an almost tangible chill in the air around him, emanating from the metal man’s slate grey and white body in waves.

Deciding to break the ice a little, so to speak, Arthur reached back and tugged his journal out from where it’d been tucked securely into his pants. Flipping it open to a blank page, Arthur smoothed his fingers over the creamy paper, thinking over how to begin.

“Alright, well, what do you already know?” asked Arthur.

Kopaka responded without missing a beat. “I am able to discern lettering and recognize some words in English.”

“That’s a good start,” Arthur said. He brought out his pencil, beginning to write on the page— not in his usual looping handwriting, of course, since he reckoned that might be pretty damn overwhelming for the Toa, but in a more blunt, straight-edged hand that he figured most anyone could read… provided they knew what they was looking at, of course. “I’ll write something down here and you try to read it back to me. This is just to get an idea of what I’m workin’ with.”

The pencil stopped moving across the page and, after blowing off the excess graphite, Arthur turned the open journal around to show Kopaka. The bionicle’s optics snapped to the page, studying the lettering there intently.

Slowly, the Toa blinked. “I cannot read this.”

“But you can read letters, that’s better than nothing,” Arthur reassured, not wavering a bit under the Toa’s icy stare. “You can start by reading off the first five.”

Attention returned to the page, Kopaka studied it closely. After a moment, the Toa spoke aloud: “H-O-R-S-E.” He didn’t seem particularly impressed by this, gaze sliding to Arthur as if to ask is that all you’re going to show me?

“Right,” Arthur nodded. “That’s ‘horse’.”

“Horse,” repeated Kopaka, and Arthur smiled at him for it.

Faintly, he could hear Gilgamesh muttering something under his breath about ‘mongrels’ from over by the range. For the king’s sake, Arthur remained sternly focused on the task at hand.

“See, you know how that one works when speaking, and it works damn near exactly the same in writing, so you ain’t that far off from the mark; it’s just pickin’ out what patterns of letters fit together to make a sound. Now, what I think is that you’ll learn a lot faster with someone sayin’ the words to you as you read… you said you could pick out a few words?”

The Toa dipped his head. “It is the contextual meaning of the words that poses the greatest challenge to my learning.”

“Well, what was the most recent word you had a problem with, friend?” Arthur asked gamely.

“The sign outside of this very room. I was able to determine that fire would be involved, but nothing more.”

“Alright,” said Arthur, who had begun to write almost as soon as the words were out of Kopaka’s mouth. “We’ll take a closer look at that one, then.”

When he turned the page around this time, there were two distinct words written on it, generously spaced apart to make it simpler to distinguish between them. Arthur tapped the pointed pencil lead below them, trying to think of how to explain.

“So, what this here says is firing range. Firing used ‘cause like that feller over there,” Arthur indicated Gilgamesh with a tip of his hat, who tensed up as if sensing that he was being talked about. “Folks come up here to fire guns, and it’s all done at range.”

“I see...”

“Without seeing the range and the guns, though, you might’ve not learned that,” Arthur continued, and began to scribble on the page once more. He presented it for Kopaka’s inspection a moment later, several portions of the term underlined. “What we can do, is break the words up into pieces and work from there. You got ‘fire’, but the ‘-ing’ ain’t exactly important information. Not right now, at least. ‘Range’ is pretty important, since it tells you what this place is. What we gotta do is take these letters right here, and match them to the sounds you already know how to make.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Arthur again took his pencil and went over the lines, making them more aggressively prominent on the page. He was really gettin’ into this, huh? “Now, for each set of letters I’ve scored under here, there’s a sound that goes with ‘em. Let’s see if you can get it right.”

 

[Aku]

The dojo grasps Aku's observation while reading the information of what Syntech has constructed on this comet. Getting in a workout and practicing before the big event is one of the mandatories on his list. The second will be consuming food afterward to replenish some energy. With that in mind, Aku follows the path toward the dojo. Visiting the dojo will likely give him a chance to see who the other contestants' identities before challenging them. While approaching the dojo, his ego remains high with confidence that no one will ever match his considerable powers.

Entering the dojo, Aku was met with a welcome desk to help give out important information about the dojo and welcome newcomers. It was the same blonde headed girl that greeted and helped with the previous contestants. The master of darkness approaches the desk with his tendrils squirming around along the ground from every movement he makes. A wide smile spreads across Aku's face with that signature toothy grin.

The lady looks up from reading a fashion magazine and smiles back at Aku in a cute manner, even though his appearance is usually demonic and scary to others.

"HI. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT YOUR DOJO CAN DO TO ASSIST MY POWERS THAT WILL CRUSH MY FOES." Aku asks for the guidance of this new dojo he is not familiar with and his smile that shows his unusual shape of teeth.

"We have a weight training room to gain those muscles for the event. A shooting range is upstairs to help you get familiar with firearms if you are new to that skillset or improve your existing experience. There are also public classes that are excellent for stretching and getting your cardio pumping while our Syntech chosen instructors guide you. Lastly, private sessions consist of a personal trainer being along your side and getting you fitted before the event begins. Do you have anything in mind that I didn't cover?" the blonde-headed lady chimed with helpful facts of what the dojo held for any players.

After finishing explaining the dojo, muffled gunshots go off from upstairs, where the firing range's location. Aku's competitors are undoubtedly at the shooting range, training for the big event. That gives Aku massive interest in trying the firing range to see what his opponents are. Hopefully, it won't be that heroic samurai that foiled his plans from the previous life of his.

"THANK YOU FOR THE INFORMATION, HUMAN. I WILL BE HEADING OFF TO THE SHOOTING RANGE TO SEE THE SIMPLETONS. I WILL BE FIGHTING HEHEHEHEHEHE!" laughed the shogun of sorrow with the thought of finally seeing his opponents.

"You're welcome! If you have any more questions, I will be right here or somewhere in the dojo helping others." the lady happily replied that Aku was satisfied with her information.

After the spiel of knowledge, the shogun of sorrow moved into the small hall that led to other places inside the dojo, including the shooting range. Passing the first door with a small glass window on the left, a quick glimpse of a man wearing a long black cape matches Aku's body color. That man was tall and ripped, almost the same as the macho man that the master of darkness murdered before registering Dante's Abyss, but this male human was better built. An arm and a leg replaced with prosthetics that didn't shy away from the clothing he wore. The aspect that this male human gives a battle-harden mage that has been through a tough past life.

Aku reverses his movement to glance at this mysterious man that will be Aku's first contestant to meet. With his plan to make everyone aware of his supreme authority. The shogun of sorrow opens the door and goes forth into this room. Upon entering, a video is playing to show off a random class performing here in this dojo. While the man's faced away from Aku, this gave the mischievous demon a chance to scare his first opponent.

Maybe a heart attack will end this stranger's life before entering the game that Aku hoped. He tiptoes upon the man and gets his scary face ready. Creeping up behind this stranger, the master of trickery gets into position for his surprise.

"BLARGH! AWOOOOOO!" roars Aku from the top of his lungs that booms all over the room.

Nothing happens.

The shogun of sorrow tries a second attempt by making funny faces and sticking his tongue out.

Nothing happens.

No reaction didn't occur within the period of the prank. Getting fed up with the scariness not working, Aku gets in front of the mage and makes a final attempt.

"BWAAAAA!" cries Aku along with a funny face, but only snores are the stranger's reaction.

The shogun of sorrow's face filled with disappointment and annoyance while noticing this man has sunglasses on. Mumbling comes from the mage's mouth that results in sleep talking.

"WAKE UP! YOU SLOTH!" yells the master of darkness fills with annoyance and a frown on his face, but no awaken response follows.

"GRRRRR I'M WASTING MY TIME HERE WITH THIS PATHETIC HUMAN. YOUR GOING TO DIE IN YOUR SLEEP SOMEDAY FOOL!" the words came out of Aku harshly, and of course, he gets the same answer.

Aku leaves the room, cursing under his breath, experiencing a waste of time from that matter. He slams the door and proceeds down the small hallway. A sign points to the shooting range's location in the dojo. Optimistically this time, he will make his presence worth remembering. His body climbs the staircase with the help of the tendrils doing the work. Gunshots ring out from the top of the stairs as the master of darkness reaches the door.

Grabbing the door handle, the claws on his fingers wrap around the metallic door handle with a firm grasp to pull open. Entering the shooting range, he sees three other contestants present. How strange Aku's arrival is, everyone notices a black figure moves forward. What stood out was his six antlers that protrude out of his head's side, and the eyebrows glow with the fire crackling above his beady disturbing eyes. No legs were present, only darkened mass below the torso connected to the floor.

Clawed hands are attached to his long arms that hang from the pointy shoulders. The color of his face was green among a long red beard, hanging underneath the bottom lip. Teeth were showing in his mouth but did not fill all the rest of it. His nose appeared to be almost like a pig nostril but not quite. This moment is a real conversational piece stopper of the presentation about Aku. The contestants that fill this room is a cowboy, a coldhearted knight, and a king.

Their attention immediately caught as the shogun of sorrow strolls into the room. Aku's ego looks down upon them as he can see a usage of mortal-made firearms that have no harm against his immortality.

"Err… howdy." Arthur attempts to greet and comprehending this monstrosity that drops by.

"GREETINGS MORTAL! I AM AKU, THE SHOGUN OF SORROW. SOON I WILL BE THE NEW MASTER AND RULER OF ERDE NONA! I HAVE COME FAR TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS SO-CALLED DANTE'S ABYSS." The master of darkness introduces himself to the group.

There is a sense that Aku sniffs and realizes he isn't the only godlike being. A couple smells in fact that come through his nostrils as he snuffles the aroma. The smells were a simple mortal that doesn't interest Aku, the ice colored toa gives an unusual smell that similar toward Mewtwo's, and the blonde-headed human male is the one that stench in a scent that Aku hasn't come across for a long time. A smile stretches out with a dastardly expression across his face.

 

[Fenix]

Suwako was of course a quiet sort, not the type to ask so much as the type to take when she saw something she wanted, save when she liked a deal, and as a result, When she noticed a being stopped by the administration to sign up for a class, she of course ignored it and moved around, wandering in search of something she'd... noticed. recently.


This was, however, Karl Jak's town, and Suwako was never the best at stealth in the first place.


"Excuse me, miss, but do you need directions?" The Secretary asked.


"err... yeah, to the place I was asking about." Suwako quickly lied, not sure if she'd really get in trouble.


"I don't recall you asking me..."


Suwako gave a mock look of hurt. "...So you ignored me too! Just like those guys at sign-ups..."


The girl looked to the floor, lower lip trembling as she put on her best impression of a young girl crying - befitting her own appearance.


"E-errr..." The woman added, cheerfulness slightly breaking as she looked a little shocked by the change in the little one's demeanor. "I-it's fine. I'll even write down the name for you. And where did you want to go....?"


Sniffing, Suwako rubbed an arm across her face, shielding it from view as she looked to where tall black and demonic had went. he'd seemed interesting if... eccentric, and she'd wanted to scope him out for if he was going to be someone she could use for a bit or a good target to take out first - or leave for last, within the chaos.



"Oh, I really wanted to go to the... firing range." Suwako added, sounding like a frog had gotten caught in her throat as she realized what a problem this was. Suwako didn't know Guns! maybe she could...


"F-for a, uhm..."


Luckily, the concern on the woman's face told suwako that she thought suwako's attitude was due to her holding back tears, and not, in fact, due to coming up with a story. It'd be weird to ask for a sling, right...? If this lady thought she could operate a sling, she could guess about suwako's age, and she didn't want that. She'd have to ask for a gun. Sanae, her descendant, brought them up a lot, but she didn't pay attention to much, and a missile launcher would both be more suspicious and... Suwako didn't pay attention to the other ones-


Oh, right!"


"A pear Stool! Big sis Sanae-"


The irony of the statement made it hard for Suwako not to snort.


"Said pearl stools would be good for someone small like me! I'd really like to try 'em."


The girl's head tilted, likely too impressed by Suwako's amazing bluff.

"r-right. I'll go write you odwn for a... 'pear stool.'" The girl added, a slight bit of amusement coming through.

Great. she'd made herself look like a complete idiot. this worked.


"Thank you soooooo much, lady!" Suwako cried, a big smile on her lips as she looked the picture of innocence.


"Oh, it was no trouble." The woman says back, before filling out the necessary forms.


The moment she turned around, Suwako turned herself, letting out a small sigh as she allowed her elongated tongue to loll out.


It was going to be a long day.


---


With a devious grin, Suwako walked in on her fellow contestants, only to find.... Quite the selection.


A white robot with... was that divinity? She'd made a robot in her day with her powers, but in the end it had still been - just that, a robot. this being felt more like... well, some sort of demigod. Or a shrine maiden. Though it certainly didn't look cute enough to fill the latter part. It had sat down, starting to read like a beginner, with a friendlier face - a human, and a well-built one. After a long time of not seeing a well-built beefcake, she appreciated how easy the rough-and-tough man was on the eyes. The Idea of spawning a few tadpoles was whimsically entertained for a fraction of a second before being discarded - Sanae was enough adorable trouble.


Besides, after getting a look at the great big demon...


Well, Suwako decided to put her tongue back into her mouth.


It wasn't just the goblinoid nose, or the firey looking eyebrows that might be actual fire, nor was it the weird body he'd taken on - but there was a purity to him. a purity of evil that chilled Suwako to her core.


As a tyrant who'd ruled for thousands of years, the Evilness wasn't a problem of course. She'd seen her share of demons and monsters, even if this one wasn't very... monster. She imagined he might freak a few of the more orderly gods out, but Suwako was more of a mixed bag - and preserving world peace wasn't currently her job. No, the purity was the problem.as a god of Impurity, of filth, of those contradictions that made humans so... human, this eccentric personification of darkness was something her own divine nature didn't tolerate.


To put it simply: bleh!.

Still, Suwako gave a smile that was strained, as she looked to him and the rest, about to open her mouth....


And then, without an extra word, she looked to something she'd never expected to see.


Blonde hair. Glowing armour. beautiful earrings and a face that spoke of arrogance and confidence alike. Like pure gold, his divinity radiated to Suwako. A god most suited to her own nature, in comparison to the black ichor she had tracked in here. After all, this, here, was a god much closer in impurity to herself... an almost innocent divinity. a god and yet not quite a god.


Well, that was enough undressing everyone with her incredibly old and powerful eyes. It was time to introduce herself - after all, if she can ingratiate herself to some of these fools, perhaps they wouldn't be trying to eat her own to try and gain her power later.


And so it was that Suwako stood straight, adjusted her hat slightly, and confidently spoke to the rest.


"Hello. I am here to find the Pear stools! Could someone point to one of them."


The silence of pure awe radiated for a second or two, or that's what Suwako thought it was, at least.


She was swiftly corrected by the giggling snort of the human nearby.


"Pear Stools! Hahaha... I'm sorry, missy, I don't mean to laugh, but you don't really... deal with guns, do ya? I can point ya to a couple you can try." the Wiseacre replied.


"I'd enjoy that. It'll be a cool story to tell my kid I finally tried one of the damned things out." Suwako sighed with half-closed eyes, her tongue lolling out again as her shoulders sagged. Right. Maybe she should've just said "gun" and chanced it.


Without another thought on the subject, she shrugged and quickly followed Arthur's pointing. With a quick pick-up, she held the thing unsteadily in her hands. she had... a rough approximation of what end went where, but heck if she didn't know much more than that. It seemed the cowboy was busy, as the Demigod more emphatically read out words for some inscrutable reason, assisting the robot in whatever... that was.


Suwako gave a sigh, before offering an inscrutable grin. “Well, it seems those two are busy. You seem to know your guns. Do you think we could… help each other out~?” Suwako added with a much more calculated grin, leaving the double-meaning to hang in the air for a moment.

The part-god’s eyes narrowed in a way that worried Suwako, and the girl suddenly remembered a few old skits that played out this way that she’d rather not be the butt of the joke for, so she quickly added “After all, with the event starting so soon, I would think we’re all looking for some help to get ready.” She’d add with a slightly more neutral tone, really not trying to come off like she was hitting on the tall blonde. It was made a bit harder by the fact that Gilgamesh was, admittedly, hot, but she had a funny feeling he wasn’t looking for that right now.

“Suwako Moriya.” She’d add with a smile, extending a hand. “The curse goddess of mountains and earthiness.” She’d add.

“King Gilgamesh.” He would say with a wry smile, as though he was already trying to figure out how to work this new development to his advantage. Noticeably, he looked interested but not surprised at the claim of divinity - either he knew what to look for, or he’d really spent his time around the gods.

“So you offer me a-” Gilgamesh began.

“WHAT?! SO YOU JUST WANT TO LEARN HOW TO SHOOT GUNS?! Pfffh!” The nearby evil god would say, before casually picking up a rifle and firing. The bullet left the chamber and left an imprint right in the forehead.

Suwako’s eyebrows raised. Really? Of all people to be able to show her up, she didn’t want it to be this guy. She really didn’t want it to be this guy.

“SEE! WHEN YOU’VE BEEN AROUND THEM FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS, IT’S EASY TO MAKE A CRACK SHOT-”


Aku fired again, however, only to… miss the target entirely.

“ERRR… Practice… shot!” Aku added ,the tenor of his voice lowering slightly as his second shot went nowhere. Once again not bothering to aim, Aku fired a third time, only for it to hit the roof.

Suwako grunted in annoyance. The worst part wasn’t that her conversation was interrupted, or the fact that she’d learned about as much about shooting a gun from Aku as she had Peach farming from baboons. No, the worst part was that he’d confirmed he was, in fact, a very lucky demon. She wasn’t actually allowed to be careless with this one.

“JUST… LET ME… SHOW…” Aku yelled, and pretty quickly the halls were filled with more bullets than she’d thought could be in one ammo magazine.

Frowning, she turned to Gilgamesh, who seemed to be likewise annoyed at these interruption, eye twitching.

“Maybe this is a bit too loud of a place to be learning to fire guns?” Suwako would suggest.