The Convention [Spectator Thread]

[Chara Dreemurr]

Dante’s Abyss was probably in the top ten last places in the world Chara Dreemurr wanted to visit. One brush with being unmade and one slow, crippling death had cured any real desire to step foot on the meteor for the foreseeable future.

She was mostly here for package delivery, however - not one of the contestants, just a visitor who’d been provided a little bit of firepower.

Her mind flitted back to the note that Karl Jak, or at least one of his associates with permission to sign for him, had provided.

“Chara Dreemurr (Did I spell that right?), I hope you’re doing well after that last little disemboweling you had. After that last bout you had in Dante’s abyss, there’s been a little bit of a problem since the event I wanted to correct. A little birdy has told me you’re off to finish the job Syntech started for you in that final siege. I remember you cared a lot about that last time you were here?(At least until you went off to the woods to get up to some very spicy stuff with your girlfriend. No judgement - that part got ridiculously high ratings among certain crowds.)

The point I’m getting to is that I was very worried when I heard you were off to confront more of Darkseid’s shmucks on Cevanti, without even being accurate to your action figure line. Imagine how disappointed every toy collector or child left unsupervised in front of their television will be when they watch this televised event and realize you’re missing one of your vital accessories! I’d say I hope you don’t have to use it, but the truth is we have a lot of old product taking up space in the warehouse, and if you can drive up brand awareness with your syntech-issued Nailgun, we just might be able to move some of it after all.

Light-up action is, sadly, not included - Lighting the enemy up, however, is! And however much ammo you need - just send us the bill! You’re paying for it in exposure, after all! Oh, and send Ol’ Mustang my regards.

Sincerely yours - Karl Jak”

The note had since been crumpled up and stuffed in one of her pockets. She’d have thrown out the little syntech-issued piece of paper, but that might have compromised the operation. How Karl Jak knew of their plans was a mystery Chara had considered with a continuous scratch of her chin, but it was not something that unbelievable for a man filled with seemingly divine levels of power. The man just seemed to know things.

“...Dick.” Chara whispered, looking around suspiciously, as though somehow, someway, Asriel might turn up to hear the swear word leaving her lips. “But the cool kind of dick. At least right now.”

Still, her time on the comet was supposed to be just for that. To get the nailgun, return to Cevanti, do what little she could to prepare for the final mission, and get out…

It was why it was completely illogical where she was going as she headed towards the revival chambers. She had zero interest in dealing with a bunch of horrible killers, and less horrible killers who acted in hypocritical fashion about the whole thing. Much less the killer who’s revival chamber she now headed towards

Certainly, despite whatever came over her during the Abyss, she was fine anyways. She lived for a bloodbath, died with a smile, and left the suffering to the victims she found in her endless hedonistic crusade. She didn’t get emotional trauma - she was the emotional trauma.

Chara gave a long, exaggerated sigh, as images of a great cleaver and the sing-song of Lilith’s motherly exultations filled her mind.

She walked up and towards the waiting area, half-expecting to walk in on an uncaringly naked abomination against mankind already with a demeaning quip in mind for her would-be pet.

The steel she’d put around her mind - around her heart - fell like a stack of cards as she walked in with a cocky smile of her own, and saw Lilith staring off into space, a hollow void behind the eyes that usually shone with untold malice. Clothed, still, and devoid of any kind of her usual mannerisms - her usual energy. Melancholic… broken.

And that was good, the logical part of her mind told herself, maybe this had somehow weakened her or reduced her threat to the rest of the crossroads. Perhaps it was the deserved reward for a life of black deeds, a black heart…

The emotional part was in control as Chara’s face fell, booted feet clacked across the floor and any pretense of being on guard was lost by the young mage. Her voice was naked with worry as she spoke just one word. She called her name with naked worry, fear for the giantess flowing through her voice.

“...Lilith?”

 

[Mickey Mouse]

“Mr. Mouse, thank you so much for sitting down with us.”

Mickey glanced at the tubes and needles stuck in all his arms and legs as he sat, half-prone, in the hospital bed. “Of course,” he smiled weakly. As if I had much choice, pal!

“So. Grand Champion,” the reporter grinned, flipping her hair back behind her head.

“How does it feel?”

Mickey almost rolled his eyes. Of course the question he dreaded most would be the first one asked. He hadn’t even wanted to sit for an interview — had mostly refused to — but this young woman had asked so nicely, he just couldn’t say no.

How did being Grand Champion feel, though? He hadn’t really thought about it in those terms, to be honest. He’d mostly thought about how it felt to be finished with this mess for good, how it’d felt to be able to confront Karl Jak and give him a piece of his mind, how it’d felt to make sure Blues and Pepsiman had gotten out of the competition safely. Those feelings were ones he’d been readily able to shore up with, readily able to embrace. The idea that he was the winner, well… that one hadn’t really settled in yet, and the mouse king didn’t really know if it was ever gonna.

“Doesn’t feel real, Ms. Vale,” he shrugged, because that was true. He couldn’t even really reach that feelin’ — and, to be honest, didn’t really want to — so how was he supposed to talk about it, right?

“Please,” the reporter looked at him over the top of her glasses, “call me Vicki.”

“I’ve already got a friend named Vicky,” the mouse replied. “So I’ll stick with Ms. Vale.”

Vicki Vale turned her nose up a bit at that; Mickey couldn’t tell if maybe he’d said something wrong and she was offended, or just confused, but either way, he already found himself gettin’ kinda bored of her whole business. They’d barely talked, but the way Vicki held herself reminded the mouse king of a tiger ready to pounce on her prey. She desperately wanted some morsel of a real story, rather than just profiling a victor; she wanted some sort of gossip or tabloid nonsense to grasp onto. Mickey was sorry to say, but he had nothin’ for her.

“Right,” she nodded, pressing forward. “Now, Mr. Mouse — you’re quite known for your tendency to make friends in the arena. Lots of people make alliances, but you have a tendency to try and befriend most people on the island at first glance, rather than fight…”

“I think most people would agree the Proto Mouse did less of that,” Mickey chuckled.

“Yes, yes, there is that,” she continued. “But nevertheless, the roster of relationships you made in this competition remains rather large. Your two companions, Blues and Pepsiman; Beatrix III and her wife, Jaina; the cultist Erik Vrell and, of course, your former partner, Gilgamesh.”

Mickey nodded along as she continued the list. What was he supposed to do? Run into Gilly and say ‘hey, sorry about all that we went through, but I’m gonna kill ya now’?

“Oh! Speak of the devil,” Vicki said, glancing past Mickey toward the door.

The mouse king turned to see the revitalization station’s entrance swing open. Dr. Swift pushed in a gurney rather somberly, and when Mickey saw who lay on it, his eyes went wide.

“Gilly?!”

Tubes and needles were promptly removed as Mickey separated himself from them and clambered out of bed. He landed on the ground with a plop, his legs only about half-recovered, and scrambled over towards the gurney. Behind him, he heard Vicki yell something in protest, and he could feel nurses tripping over themselves behind him to try and capture him and get him back to recovery, but they shoulda known better: when Mickey Mouse wanted something, he freakin’ got it.

“Mickey,” Dr. Swift muttered as the mouse grabbed a hold of the pole running along the side of Gilgamesh’s bed and pulled himself up. “Mickey, you don’t want to see this — get down.”

The mouse could feel Dr. Swift’s hands on his shoulders. He bucked the lab coat-clad man off of him and knelt on the gurney just next to Gilgamesh’s chest, looking down at his friend with hopeful eyes. It only took a few moments for the mouse to realize that, indeed, the worst remained true, and the King of Pals remained quite dead.

“Goshdarnit,” he swore, turning to Dr. Swift. “What’s going on?”

Dr. Swift took a deep breath. “We worked to separate him and Mr. Vrell for several hours,” he explained, “and, as you can see, were successful enough, but… well, the condition they were in at the end of the competition remains.”

“Don’t you have, like, a fix for this?!” Mickey nearly shouted.

“Most contestants bring their own life insurance,” Dr. Swift sighed, a bit despondent. “Syntech only enters into arrangements with very few. Gilgamesh did not bring his own, unfortunately.”

Mickey scowled, turning to the good doc. “He can use mine.”

Dr. Swift raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I know the Proto Mouse bought some,” the mouse king barked. “Load it up, use it to get Gilly back.”

“Mickey, this is highly irregular,” Dr. Swift protested, but Mickey lifted up a gloved hand.

“Gimme back my friend, doc.”

Spoiler

Mickey Mouse uses one of his 'When You Wish Upon A Star.exe' to revive @Gilgamesh - already discussed with Wyatt.

 

[Beatrix III]

Both Beatrix and Jaina had completely cleaned their plates. The food was excellent.

“Split a milkshake?” Jaina asked, pushing her plate forward.

“Of course. Chocolate peanut butter.” The redhead said.

“Deal.”

The waitress came back and took their plates away. “Was there anything else I could get you two?”

“Yeah, we’ll have a chocolate milkshake with peanut butter. Bring us two straws.” Beatrix ordered.

The waitress nodded and continued to clear their table. She smiled and brought all their dirty dishes back with her.

“You know what I could really go for right now though?”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Beatrix just winked at her seductively. Jaina blushed slightly and cleared her throat.

“Wouldn’t it be fun?” The Mistress said slyly.

Blondie continued to blush. “Yes, but you have to wait.”

Beatrix groaned in protest. “Awwww. I don’t wanna.”

The waitress came back with their milkshake and the two straws they had requested. Jaina inserted both and slid the shake into the middle of table. Both took a drink.

***​

The girls were standing in front of the winnings monitor when the winner of Dante’s Abyss was announced over the intercom. The display they were looking at flashed a picture of the winner and displayed their name.

“Mickey won? Isn’t that the mouse?”

“Yeah! They did it!” Jaina said happily, wrapping an arm around Beatrix.

“Wait. You mean PM? That’s Mickey?”

Jaina nodded. “Yep! We should go find them.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Good to know we managed to pull that one off.”

“Mhm!” Jaina said smiling widely.

“Let me just put on a bra quick. I feel like I’m on display.”

“I wasn’t complaining but go ahead. I’ll stand guard.” Beatrix said with a chuckle.

“I’m not taking my shirt off in the open! Let’s find a bathroom!”

A sly grin formed over Beatrix’s face. “Can I watch you change?”

“Do you know how creepy that sounds, babe?”

“It’s creepy to want to perv on my wife?” Beatrix said with a devilish grin.

“Well, no…but the way you said it. It sounded like some stalker holding me ransom…like ‘Can I watch you change, or I’ll cut you.’”

Beatrix laughed and leaned into her wife’s ear. “Maybe I will cut you.” She whispered breathily.

“Stoooop. You’re such a dork.” Jaina said.

“Yes, but I’m your dork.” The redhead said, laughing.

The duo made their way to the nearest available women’s bathroom and shut the door. Jaina removed her shit and slipped into a white lace bra clasping it shut. She took her T-shirt from her wife and slid it back down over her torso, straightening the syntech logo. Beatrix reached out with one finger and poked the blonde’s boob.

“Boop.”

Jaina rolled her eyes the circumference of the comet and kissed Beatrix on the cheek. “Here. Put on your sports bra. It’s black, but something tells me you don’t really care about it showing through.”

Beatrix shrugged and pulled her shit up over her head. She squeezed herself into the black Cytokine Industries brand sports bra before putting her syntech shirt back on. She really didn’t care. She’d go topless. She wouldn’t enjoy it, but she’d do it if there we no other option. Come to think of it. What scenario would make her charge into battle topless? She perished the thought from her mind and followed Jaina out of the woman’s bathroom and back into the heart of the convention center.

“Let’s check the med bay. We know they were injured. They’re probably getting patched up.” Jaina mused.

Beatrix nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

[Gilgamesh]

Nothing. Vast expanses of black void extended as far as the eye can see. However, it would be woefully inaccurate to describe this afterlife as darkness. Gilgamesh’s eyes were now enveloped in shadows that obscured his vision. This was wholly different from when the shroud of night swallowed the sky. The King’s eyes would never adjust to this neverending twilight, he wouldn’t be able to discern the shapes of his city. This was because Gilgmash no longer had vision. There was nothing to experience, for there was no Gilgamesh to experience nothing. He could not feel his righteous fury nor his contempt. The humiliation of being shot by that red-masked freak would forever go unsaid. Most mercifully, he would never feel the throbbing pain of a bullet piercing his skull and wreaking havoc on his brain.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so much? Why was his skull pounding? Why could he feel his body, his fingertips? Why was there a bright light that shone past his eyelids? Gilgamesh groaned as his eyelids fluttered open. The sluggishness of death still held the Golden King down. His limbs felt stiff as if they had been drained empty and were just being now filled with blood. An IV needle was stuck into his arm, the fluids slowly reinvigorating him.

Gilgamesh’s eyes slowly scanned the room, the eggshell white walls had streaks of purple in them. He was currently in a hospital bed, with a blue gown loosely covering himself. This was a far departure from Gilgamesh’s preferred attire, but he could not muster the energy for a snarky thought.

“The surgery went quite well, Mr. Mouse,” a voice called out from the foot of his bed. “We will keep an eye on him, but he should be awake soon.” A man stood there, with a chart in his hand in soft baby blue scrubs. As handsome as he was smart. Recognition lit the Golden King’s face. He was in a Syntech hospital. The staff member was Dr. Swift, a doctor whom Gilgamesh deeply admires. Though he had offered the man multiple opportunities, the Doctor had always expressed deep loyalty to Karl Jak.

“Thanks, doc,” a familiar voice squeaked. Dr. Swift nodded his head and excused himself from the room.

Gilgamesh’s head turned toward the other voice, a small rodent was sitting on a stool, covered in his bandages. “Mickey,” a wind barely escaped Gilgamesh’s lips. His mouth was so dry.

Mickey’s head turned, and a big smile curled on his face. “Gilly, you’re awake!” The mouse leapt off of their chair and onto Gilgamesh’s bed. Before the Golden King could speak another word, he was smothered by a tight hug.


Gilgamesh sucked in air through his teeth, “Ow.”

Mickey let go of the hug, his face with an awkward, cheesy smile. “Oh, sorry about that pal. I’m just so gosh darned happy to see that you’re okay”

Gilgamesh chuckled, though each laugh pounded against his ribcage. “As you should be.” The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, both with smiles stained across their face. Gil was the first to break it, “So, were you victorious? Has Karl Jak been apprehended?”

The mouse let out a deep sigh, “Karl and I ended up having a good talk. I let the guy know exactly what I thought of these “Death Games” of his.”

“I am grateful I was not there. Hell hath no fury like an angry mouse,” Gilgamesh smirked. Mickey rolled his eyes and the two laughed with each other.

“I’ve been thinking of our friendship and how much it means to me, Gilly,” the mouse spoke softly. “I am forever grateful that I can call you my pal.”

“And you, mine.”

Mickey wiped his wet eyes, “I don’t mean to keep you Gilly. I just came to return something to ya.” The mouse reached into a small bag and pulled out Gilgamesh’s crown. “You dropped this, king”

Gilgamesh’s heart swelled as he grabbed his relic. “You are appreciated, pal.”

“Alrighty,” the mouse sighed as he got off the side of the bed. ‘Those nice nurses said I needed some bedrest myself. Something about my stitches opening or something. I said Lilo could handle it, but they were pretty adamant. It was nice seeing you again, buddy.” The mouse began to walk back to his room, his hands in his pockets and his shoes squeaking on the floor.

“It was nice seeing you, Mickey.”

 

[Masahir N'air]

"Wha-... What? What do you mean he's not back there?!?"

The blond-haired infirmary worker glanced down at the tablet in his hands, idly contemplating it for a moment before responding. "What I mean is that we have no 'earth-bending avatar' in our infirmary."

"Well, he's gotta have come through it, at least, right??" Masahir had watched her boyfriend- well, BOYFRIENDS- die in spectacular fashion over the last who-knew-how-many-hours. The anxiety blasting through her veins had settled in the dregs of her stomach like stones, she hadn't been able to sleep, eat or do much of anything without the coy, insidious 'assistance' of that devil. She was sick of it. She just wanted the comfort of Cho's gentle, considerate energy back. She just wanted to crawl into a fucking hole and sleep until the heat death of the universe around her.

"Nope!" The desk worker smiled politely.

The smile only further pissed her off. "Nope??"

"Yes."

"But I WATCHED him die live on screen, what the fuck do you MEAN my lindito isn't-" The diva ran her fingers through her curls, tugging at the roots as she huffed and growled. She couldn't understand why they were keeping him from her, why this year, this time had to be so different than all the previous years. "What, what, does his Syntech murderball contract not supply him with resurrection services? Isn't that like, a standard thing here??"

"I am not at liberty to discuss the contracts of our annual particip-"

That dreadfully fiery compulsion beat through her veins. "AAAAAUGH!!!!!" She screamed, utterly incensed by the needless corporate bureaucracy, and slammed her palms down flat on the top of the reception desk.

"Ma'am, please. I'm going to need you to calm down-"

"CALM DOWN?!? CALM DOWN??? You want ME to calm down when YOU can't even BEGIN to help me?"

"I'm sorry miss, but Syntech prides itself in guarding the privacy of its contestants, dead or not!" They responded in an unfittingly chipper tone. Masa wanted to reach forward and rip the man's throat out, to see his hot, red blood rush and pour from the hole in his neck. That would show him who to be chipper and dandy with, then maybe the heads of Syntech could hire workers who were ACTUALLY competent. Her manicured nails- now pristine thanks to one of the many luxury salons and shops available in the convention center- gouged furrows into the wooden desk, marks of her displeasure.

A light touch on her shoulders instantly wicked the fury from her frame. Warmth flooded the air around her, suffused with peppery citrus. Damien. Firmer now, his hands squeezed her tense deltoids in a soothing massage. "Come now, love." His voice slithered into her ear, soft as silk, "you wouldn't want to make a scene in front of all these people, would you...?"

Suddenly she became sharply aware of the weight of all the eyes on her. Multitudes of never blinking, always observing eyes, eyes that peered deep into the dark well of her mind and studied the cracks in her mask like she was some bug under a microscope. She was used to performing, eyes on her weren't an issue...

But this...

This wasn't some performance at the Crimson Lily.

Her heart was too raw to play pretend.

Tears sprung to her big, dark eyes. She managed one, maybe two steps back before her knees buckled and she fainted onto the devil hunched over her shoulder. Damien caught her around her shoulders with effortless grace, the tips of his fangs poking out from under the minute curl of his smirk. He produced a hand fan- from where she hardly knew or bothered to care- and fanned cool air over her flushed face. She was making a scene. She was misbehaving. People were staring at her, glaring at her, thinking her some lunatic freak having an apocalyptic meltdown in public at the year's largest event.

"You'll have to forgive her, it's been a rough week." Damien declared to the Syntech worker, slightly tone lighter than appropriate considering the circumstance.

What did they know? What the fuck did THEY know about the awful rollercoaster of her life? Masahir frowned, utterly inconsolable as Damien lead her off to the side, away from the line of visitors.

Her Lindito was gone, her corazón, her comfort. Finally, after three. fucking. years. Finally she let someone back into her heart. Finally she held someone in her arms and felt safe and happy and contented. Finally she let herself say those three cursed words.

And now he was gone. GONE.

She should have known better than to let her stupid heart bleed. All it did was make a devastating mess on the inside of her ribs.

"Oh, dear rose..." Damien murred, gentle and close to only her in the intimate space between them. "You wilt in my arms, but surely there is something to be done that will bring you back..."

He wanted a contract. The diva let out an exhausted, exasperated sigh, a little more of her inner scaffolding crumbling away. "No..." She breathed. "No, no more signatures." She begged, she couldn't take the tax of a new payment on. Her soul felt like ratty, tattered streamers flapping wildly in a sandstorm.

"No contract needed, my precious flower. To see you sag and wilt... Oh, it pains me greatly."

Whatever. He couldn't change his nature as much as a tiger couldn't change its stripes. It would hurt so sweet when he took whatever this 'help' was and threw it back in her face, and he would look so world-endingly beautiful while doing it, too. Fuck. She hated her brain. It was what she deserved for getting involved with him in the first place, her very own inescapable slice of hell, doomed to never hold a drop of love for long.

What was the point.

"Why," Damien tilted his head, "isn't your roguish paramour in recovery?"

"Demetri? Yeah." Masa shrugged despondently. "What about him."

"He always seems to amuse you- what, with his mischievous, rakish behavior."

But it wasn't the same: he wasn't her Cho... She idly considered if she could even stomach the casual affections of another hollow relationship. Her muscles and organs ached, raw from the way she'd gotten juggled through life-altering escapades. For fucks sake, it hurt to even think- and Demetri was easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Uncommitted. They owed nothing to each other. No expectations except the promise of a fun time.

And the last she checked, that deceptively dark rogue needed a fun time. This year's abyss, he had let all his vicious desires out on full display, fucking with his targets and needling them until the very end. She'd be lying to say she didn't respect that Rat Bastard sort of energy he channeled when all bets were off, and that painstakingly composed mask of his...

He was a real artisan.

"Yeah..." Masahir agreed on an exhale, her tone still distant, distracted, numb. "I should check on him, shouldn't I? It would break his heart if I didn't make a few minutes for him, he's a pretty big fan of mine, after all."

"Why not take your time?" Damien encouraged, rubbing a lithe hand across the width of her shoulders. "You deserve it after everything you've gone through~"

"And you? You're just okay with that?" She pried, skeptical. Then again, he seldom intruded on her time with other partners.

The devil grinned broadly. "I think I hear a sinner in need of salvation a couple of bars down..."

​

~ * * * ~​

"Heyy hotstuff~" Masa greeted as she shimmied into Demetri's infirmary room.

The rogue sat up a bit on his cot, a little surprised to see who was visiting him. "Oh, hey gorgeous~ What are you doing here?"

The way his eyes darted to check behind her did not escape her notice. He was probably expecting Ra to follow swiftly behind, if she had to guess. She held up a purple Syntech brand shopping bag and jostled it softly, "I got you a lil something sweet- Uh, you do still like sweets, don't you?"

"Yeah of course," he chuckled, putting on an easy smile, as if he hadn't just terrorized the very psyches of his competition for the thrill of it, "why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you did get totally thrashed out there." Masa answered blithely, coming and sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "They say that big brain injuries can permanently change a person..."

"Syntech's got good medicine, then," he assured effortlessly, "because I feel as good as new~"

Liar. Something gnawed at his insides, something sitting on the back his mind. Masahir smiled and reached into her shopping bag, "good enough that I can keep these brownies for myself, mi guapo~?"

"Wait," Demetri held a hand up placatingly, "that's not what I-"

"Oh darling," Masa plucked two wax paper wrapped squares from the bag and held them triumphantly out-of-reach, "you shouldn't have! How sweet and considerate of you~"

The scent of rich, melty cocoa flooded the room as she bandied the treats about. "Oh, and they're the fancy EXPENSIVE ones too, all decadent with fudge and extra chocolate chips... Nice and moist and soft, still freshly warm from the oven..."

The agile rogue darted forward, keen on snatching one of the brownies from the diva before the teasing could continue further- but found a pair of her fingers pressed to the tip of his nose, halting his progress.

"Uh-huh~" She tsked playfully. "I think these brownies are worth at least one kiss for all the effort~ I really had to sweettalk the lady working the kiosk to get them."

"A kiss?" He asked.

"Mhmm! If you want it, you have to close your eyes and pucker up." She blew a kiss at him and winked.

"What a benevolent trade..." Demetri smirked, leaned forward and closed his eyes, awaiting the petal-soft lips of the dancer. Instead he was greeted not with a kiss, but a bite of chocolatey, fudgy brownie. He quirked a brow as he opened his eyes, taking the pastry Masahir held to his mouth and nibbling at it more.

"I just wanted to see if you would trade sweets for kisses. Now I know your currency~" Masa admitted with a cheeky giggle and glanced away. She reached back into the bag and pulled out a red capped pint bottle of whole milk, handing it off to him before getting her own. "I know you kinda got fucked out there this year, I figured you'd like something nice for a change... Though... Maybe you would have appreciated a trip to the bar on another's tab more~"

"Ha, thanks. They're pretty good- I didn't know Syntech actually made anything other than C-rations to eat." Demetri managed between bites of brownie. "Ammnd," he swallowed, "contrary to popular belief, I do need more than just drink to sustain myself."

"With your physique? I'm surprised you don't eat roasted brontosaurus haunches like some sorta caveman."

"Honestly? I wouldn't pass that up right now."

Masa laughed, her unwrapped brownie still untouched as it perched on her knee. "By the way, I thought you were like... Out? On an assignment for our business? What happened with that?"

"Oh." Demetri wiped the back of his hand across his moustache. "I got done with it early and was killing time at a local dive bar. Some Syntech worker recognized me from the last time and wanted me to sign up... I was pretty deep in my cups and figured I'd give the Abyss another crack for the big hurrah~ What, did Ra send you?"

"If she wanted to know, she probably would have just come herself. No. She's still out, doing... Gods know what. Something something something, trade agreements, something something 'in this economy'. Boring math shit, you know how she is."

"So, did you come all this way to see me, or someone else?" The ruffian ventured curiously, brownie now devoured and empty milk bottle discarded in the bedside bin.

"Nah, I came all the way out here to lounge under that artificial sun on the pool deck." She rolled her big brown eyes and laughed, but then the melody turned down slightly at the end. "No... No. You're the only person for me to visit, here."

Demetri blinked, clearly taken aback by that. "I, uh. Hmm. Hate to be blunt about this, but did you and that earth bender guy break up or something in the last two weeks since we talked?"

"Ha!" Masa exclaimed. If only it was as simple as that! She could handle break ups, she could handle things not working out... But all of this? She glanced towards the rogue, studying him while he studied her back. She would have to explain that stupid laugh. "What, you really wanna know, handsome?"

"It's been a really, reeeally long week for us both." She sighed, continuing before he could say otherwise. "Like, back on Mesa I was supposed to go on this romantic little get-away camping trip with Cho, and it turned into this whole fuckin' disaster out in the sands..."

"You went camping out on the edge of the disc?"

"No, not the edge. But that's where we ended up after everything. A band of brigands tried to drag ME off in the middle of the night!! They wanted to ransom me. Guess I didn't dress down or avoid showering enough." She remarked in casual dismissal, folding the wrapper back over her brownie and putting it back in the bag. "I mean, obviously I managed to get away unscathed, but it was pretty terrifying, being a gorgeous young woman and all- AND it was SUCH a pain in the ass to get back, too, I was shaking sand out of my tits for like, hours after we got to Karim. ALSO!! Do you know how tedious it is to find a hotel with open rooms, with no reservation or call ahead, on the weekend?? Ugh."

Demetri opened his mouth to speak, but Masa had yet more to complain on. "Not to mention, a totally different guy has simply ghosted me. He could have at least had the decency to tell me 'hey Masa, sorry, but I don't think it's working out', but no! No. I'm just supposed to figure it all out on my own. Now Cho's gone and disappeared in a flash of blue light- and--..."

She trailed off, catching her breath before she could work herself all the way back up again.

"Damn babe, ay caramba..." The rogue managed awkwardly, utterly unprepared for the sheer deluge of events she had apparently gone through. He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure of how to really respond.

Masahir's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned to look at him. They both just sorta stared at each other in silence for a dreadful moment before Masa leaned in close to the normally charismatic thief, nearly brushing noses with him. Her eyes were deathly serious. "If you tell Ra any of this-"

"Ah-" He rose a hand in interruption, his silver irises darted around her face before settling into direct eye contact, "I won't tell as long as you don't, yeah?"

The breathy way he whispered, a low rumble at the base of this throat, the uncertainty in his gaze as he searched her own, those perpetual dark circles of day-sleeping that hung under his light grey eyes. Like a switch he flipped on his signature flirty little smirk, shifting and resting his palms on her upper arms, as if to enunciate the limited space between them.

Demetri was Easy. Demetri was Fun. He didn't want or like complications and confrontations. It didn't need to be anything other than relief.

It was what he wanted, too. Deep down she could feel him aching in the pit of his soul for some sort of reprieve, some simple sort of release... And failing that, a distraction. She could do that- be his little distraction. It didn't have to be more complicated than that. Then they'd both get what they wanted.

Masahir tilted her head and suddenly closed the insignificant distance left between them, pressing her lips to his with a careless groan. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs stroking over the wiry hair of his beard as she pulled him deeper into the kiss that he so eagerly returned. He ran his hands down her back and sides, only stopping to grab her by the hips and plant her firmly on his lap. Every motion of her hips, every caress of her fingers and touch of her lips took him far away from the demons plaguing his mind and bathed him in the electric thrills of euphoria.

But only for a moment at a time, and a moment simply wasn't good enough. They each needed more. More touch, more taste, more sweat, more sensation burning through their nerves, more more more, the ever impending, ever thirsting, ever aching desire for more that left them hollowed out and comfortably numb by the end of it all. They were coals to the passions of their inner inferno, and when the flames flickered out, they would be little more than ashes crumbling away.

But maybe that was how life was meant to be lived, here and now, in the moment, burning flesh from bone and hearts down to paltry cinders.

So concerned with scorching carnal sin into each other's bodies, they hardly noticed a Syntech CNA crack the door open, take two steps in, and look up from their clipboard. The rather immodest view sent hot shame straight to the medical staff's face before they swiftly exited the room. The nursing assistance pulled the door shut behind themself, shaking their head as they hustled right back down the hall.

"Hey, Sinclair-" another nurse- several years their senior- called out as she stepped into the hall, "Uh, you okay?"

"Uhm! Yep!" The brunette chirped, still dazed and mortified. They had hardly expected to catch such a full, unfiltered view.

"Aren't you supposed to be making your rounds?"

Sinclair rubbed at their arm sheepishly, blinking away the image burned into their brain. "Well- you see, uhm. Hm. I got to room number twenty-nine and he uh, had a guest-"

"Oh." Suddenly the senior nurse said, as if she had parsed everything out. "Malius, right? I just don't get it... Every damn year... Is it that cat chick again?"

"Cat chick?" The brunette repeated in disbelief, then shook their head. “Uhm, no, Brenda. I didn’t see any tail or fur, and uh... I got a real eyefull back there.”

"A new girl, and he's not even the winner of the Abyss this time! ... Well, I guess he wasn’t the last time this happened, either. Why is it always the losers getting lap dances and favors?" She wondered aloud.

"Uh... You want someone to give Mickey Mouse to get a lap dance for winning?"

"What?!" Brenda exclaimed, disgust and horror flashing across her visage at the mere suggestion, "No! That is not what I meant, Sinclair!"​

 

[Rogue]

Kevin really didn't have time for this.

He could understand why the task had ended up on his plate. The last time Rogue had awoken after a stint in the Abyss she had been violently uncooperative. Security had handled things eventually, but after the situation with Toga's revival already, Karl wasn't eager to make this a trend. This meant Kevin was stuck overseeing her recovery. In the best case, seeing someone she had previously gotten along with might help the girl stay in control. Failing that, at least Syntech would have someone at "ground zero" who would be able to minimize the damage she caused.

And so, Kevin plinked away at a tiny portable terminal in a vain attempt not to fall as far behind with his work as he knew this assignment was going to put him. If Rogue didn't end up waking soon he was going to get people to install a proper workstation for him here. The little tablet wasn't cutting the mustard, Kevin still didn't understand why anyone seriously tried to work off of these things. It felt like a device for someone who just wanted to look busy, instead of for those who actually were busy.

The security door gave a jingle as it accepted a key card, then swung open. Kevin glanced up only briefly, seeing one of the medical staff he expected wheeling in a cart. The nurse gave a vaguely surprised nod and then began consulting Rogue's medical information.

Kevin frowned, ever so slightly. Something about the woman's movements felt off. She was good at her job, performing the checkup with the smoothness of a professional. That was the problem, he realized, she was moving too professionally for a nurse performing a casual hourly checkup. And she'd brought a cart...

Without looking up, he began to access the personnel files.

"Nobody mentioned that she needed to be moved." He spoke conversationally, his eyes pouring over the records of syntech's medical staff.

"Just a quick scan, Regenisis wants to double-check that the brain got reassembled properly."

"Is that right?" Kevin hummed, "I like to think we're pretty good at that."

The woman's credentials checked out, from what he could tell, though this wasn't her assigned ward. He switched over to localized security sensors while the nurse transferred Rogue to the mobile cart she had wheeled into the room.

Well, never could it be said that Karl Jak was lacking when it came to preparedness. There was the answer, plain as day.

Kevin fired a soft blast of ki, lightly scorching the area by the door's keypad just as the nurse was moving to wheel Rogue from the room. The woman's head jerked in his direction, but her expression was calculating, not startled.

"A handy ability you've got there!" He gave a small grin, and held up the terminal in his hand. The room's sensor array had clearly detected the signature of two mutated x-genes.

The mutant impersonator straightened up, clearly weighing her options in this situation.

"It's best for everyone that you let me take her."

"Respectfully, if you think you can force your way out of Syntech when you're this far into the facility, you have too high an opinion of yourself. It also isn't really in our policy to be letting people walk off with our contestants."

"I've better means to care for her than you do here." The woman refused to back down.

"That's just not true." Kevin sighed, "It may be surprising, but you're standing in one of the foremost medical facilities in the Crossroads. No place better for patching up a bi-section in a way that doesn't leave a Frankenstein."

"I'm not talking about her physical well-being. Her mental state has been steadily deteriorating after every one of these little endeavors. My associates are experts, they'll be able to help her think straight again. Believe me, I take no pleasure involving myself in this, but she's going to lose herself entirely if nothing is done. You know that I'm right."

"She's got a lot going on, but we're not really in the habit of letting our contestants get kidnapped."

"Don't tell me Syntech's grown a conscience while you're restructuring. Fine, I'll wait for her to make a mess of your facility. When you dump her on a planet somewhere, then I'll help her. This was my way of saving you suits a headache."

Kevin rubbed a hand across his face. Karl had said that if she wasn't stable enough to get into therapy when she woke then the best move would be to get her off the comet. It felt wrong to just hand her off, but Kevin had to admit that he wasn't optimistic on her chances of waking up coherently, and he wouldn't have relished having to fight her if it came to blows.

"You didn't have our approval for this, and if I hear you bragging about breaking through our security you'll wish you'd never set foot on this comet."

The Mutant shapeshifter laughed.

"You don't even know who I am. But fine, I won't say a word. Trust me, this is in the girl's best interest."

 

[Lilith]

White noise permeated the room. A screen in the corner displayed the conclusion of... It's done, it doesn't matter anymore. Images, colors, they faded to droning static. The monotony suffused the solitary occupant, memories flickering in her mind like aged, moth-eaten film playing on repeat. First, a sea of bloodshed. Then, the blinding radiance. She had attained incomparable enlightenment, pure transcendence. And just as quickly, in a single instance, it was all taken from her. The fall back into the bottomless chasm. Sheer nothingness. There was someone she was supposed to return to. Another person too, since long before this experience. Woven in between were other scenes of forgotten origin left intentionally blank.

Lilith was under no illusions about the significance of her motives. She came here for vain self-indulgence. A distraction.

What was she distracting herself from?

She refused to provide an answer.

A sound scratched at the veil of despair, but failed to pierce. She remained expressionless, eyes little more than two dull beads, unfocused and glazed over.

Then she felt a presence beside her on the medical bed, where she had laid upright and cross-legged after resuming her semblance of life. It was earnestly attempting to gain her attention, a delicate hand rubbing against her shoulder.

Lilith's awareness returned to the present. “It was... beautiful.”

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Chara asked, undeterred by the distant response.

“You've already witnessed it.” Words were useless to that which was beyond description.

“...I think I prefer my regular Lilith to that one, personally. But I only saw it from the outside.” Chara reserved her judgement of the... transfiguration. What Lilith needed was space to open up, so Chara could understand what she had went through.

Lilith's trance seemed to have lifted, but the scarring still lingered. “Hm. Then you couldn't possibly know.”

“...Perhaps not. I just know what I like... and I was worried I was about to lose that.” Chara maintained her composure, hoping her sincerity would encourage Lilith. She wanted to believe that gruesome persona was distinct from the woman's usual flavor of sadomasochism, only caused by the parasitic curse.

Lilith's face twisted into something resembling a wince. “What if you've already lost? What if that's how I—”

“Lilith, if it all passed away with a blink of an eye and the loss of a cleaver, was it really you?” Chara kept a firm grip on Lilith, shifting around uneasily. “...Not that I am suddenly approving of your normal murderous binges, but... that was not the woman who charmed me on our date. Or the woman I…” She paused, a hand grazing over the knife resting snugly in her pocket, waves of lust, hatred, shame washing over her, a secret only she and the cursed entity in front of her shared. “...It felt foreign.”

Lilith enjoyed those emotions. Her emotions. “It felt real to me. I had to be willing, or I... Some part of me wanted that. But... now I'm not so sure.”

Chara's expression softened. “I have never heard you... unsure of yourself before. On anything. Not like this, at least.”

Lilith furrowed her brows, untold anguish roiling beneath the surface. “There's a lot I'm unsure about. Even Ridley, sometimes, or... us.”

Chara's surprise lurked for a second, before her touch relaxed. “...So there is an us, then?”

Lilith spoke as a matter of fact, with a hint of fondness. “Well you're here now. As long as you're here, I can't deny that.”

Chara looked for words. “...After I died, I thought I didn't really want to see you. It wasn't 'til I saw you this year that I realized I just missed you.” Brushing her hair, the brunette leaned in for a sensual embrace, an undercurrent of passion bristling in her fingertips. Doubt, regret, relief, and confusion flowed through her, among other emotions she couldn't name. “...And that I'm happy to see you now.”

It was like a switch flipped. Lilith lurched away from the presumptuous advance, rescinding her warmth as her eyes widened in hostility. “This isn't an excuse for you to get all sentimental with me.”

Chara sighed, hands pressed tensely on her lap. “...I can kiss you and I can kill you, but I can't care about you, now?”

“You shouldn't. What we have together isn't... that.” Lilith glanced away for a brief moment.

“...Is it truly so terrible?” Chara pleaded, searching Lilith's body language, her smile straining into a line of anxiety. “Whatever we have, you would not push me away like this if there was nothing to push away, right?”

“You still want to change me, in the end. Like everyone else. You're better off saving the effort.” In truth, her accusation was a confession. Did she really want to reject Chara, or was it easier if Chara rejected her?

Hands stuffed into her jeans, Chara slowly slid to her feet and stared the giantess in the face, making up for their height difference. “...I should. With everything you have done, even to me. But it's not why I'm here. It should be, but...” She dared the woman to look away. “It is not important to me. I just want you to be happy. And to be by your side from time to time. I will not pretend these feelings are logical - I know they are not. I also will not pretend I do not care about you just because you find it simpler that way. Look me in the eyes and tell me you see a liar in them.” With a determined scowl and fierce crimson orbs, she challenged Lilith to find even one falsehood.

And Lilith definitely tried to, meeting Chara's steely gaze with solemn precision, searching for any little defect in the fallen human's conviction to confirm her preconceived notions. Yet, she found none. She relented and sighed in resignation. “I would hate you less if you lied to me.” She simmered in her thoughts, then it was her turn to be honest with her feelings. “You know, I've wanted to be happy ever since I... came into existence. I mean, really happy. I got close a few times, but never quite reached it. It's not something I'm meant to reach. It's the same with death.”

Chara extended an arm, a cautious hand hovering between her and the woman she was irrationally attracted to. They both exuded an aura of hesitancy and uncertainty, their eyes never once leaving each other. But that was okay, Chara reasoned. She could be patient. However long it took, it would be worth it. When Lilith finally seemed receptive to her offer, Chara gently joined their hands with the tenderness of handling a wounded animal, lacing their fingers together. “I... know exactly how that feels. I guess we hide it in different ways,” she sighed. “Neither of us can die. Neither of us know what happiness really is. We might be the only constant in each other's lives.” With the help of her other hand, Chara pulled Lilith in close, now a breath's distance away. “So we can at least spend a little time in solace with one another, right? We might not really reach happy, but let me try and see how close we can get. Whether it's by taking you on a date or taking out your heart.” She stopped, as though just hearing herself, before giving a short chuckle. “...You really do make me a worse person.” She freely showed the manic grin she had only half-managed to on the Unmade battlefield.

Although Lilith didn't totally agree with Chara's assessment, she was in no place to prove her wrong. “I could be doing way more in that regard.” She restored some of her spirit, if only faintly. “This whole mess was exhausting, even for me. I think I just need to... process everything. Alone.”

“I am willing to give you that. Just... call me. When you are finally ready to take me up on that date. When you have had enough of being alone for a little while.”

Lilith's smile was weak but genuine. “Hm. Yeah. I'll keep my promise.”

The gap between them became ever slimmer, suggesting at more intimate activity, before Chara reluctantly separated at the last second and gave a wink. “'til then. I'll be there with bells on... and maybe next time I can at least get to 2nd base before you start on the other kind of penetration?” She turned as bright as a peach before zooming away from the consequences of her teasing, breaking speeds only a nervous virgin can.

Lilith blinked, perplexed at her pet's forwardness. The metaphor went over her head - bells, like attached to a revealing outfit? - but she left it aside. The two of them were in for quite the adventure, weren't they.

Neither of us can help ourselves, huh?

 

[Mickey Mouse]

Mickey Mouse felt kinda like he was on top of the world.

His limbs all healed up and one of his besties freshly back to life, he emerged from the revitalization station with a bit of an… unfamiliar spring in his step. For the first time since Nausicaa, he felt sorta like life was going his way, and he wasn’t going to waste this feeling. No, siree.

He bounded down the hallway past hurried Syntech employees. These poor fellas — always runnin’ this way and that to get Karl Jak exactly what he needed. He hoped that, someday soon, they’d be free of that guy, but for now, he just silently wished them all the best as he continued to move in the opposite direction, towards the double doors at the end of this forever long ‘backstage’ hallway that led out into the convention center proper. The Proto Mouse hadn’t spent much time out in the ‘preshow facility,’ electing to instead head straight for the barracks after entering, so Mickey had no clear picture of what it looked like this year. Maybe, just maybe, there’d actually be something fun to do just past those doors, some good food to eat or somethin’... or at least some friends to see!

He paused, briefly, before he hit the exit. He turned to look back down the hallway, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as Vicki Vale exited the revitalization station, stuffing her pad and pen back in her purse. Now, here was a thing he hadn’t considered: how, exactly, was his life going to change now that he was the Grand Champion of Dante’s Abyss? He remembered how things had shifted even just reaching seventh place, and he hadn’t been blind enough to not see the effect being the runner-up had on Gilly’s life.

He glanced toward the exit. Was he about to get freakin’ mobbed?

“Mickey!” a familiar voice cried, and the mouse king thanked Gosh for it. He spun around, feeling the metallic arms of the Proto Man immediately tackle him to the ground. The preteen machine, just like Mickey, had been all healed up, it seemed, perfectly capable now of a pretty intense tackle.

“You feel a bit stronger than before!” Mickey observed, patting the android on his back.

“Yeah, this whole healing thing has me feeling pumped up,” Blues chuckled, rolling off the mouse. “I’m starting to feel, like, I don’t know… myself again, y’know? Feels like I haven’t had my head quite on straight since we got here, but a few hours under Dr. Swift’s care seems to have really moved the lever.”

“I’m happy to hear that, pal!” Mickey grinned, and he really was. He and his best friend had been through a lot, and to hear that maybe, after all this time, they’d somehow found themselves back on solid ground, well…

He pushed himself up onto his feet, turning towards the door. Having Blues with him, at the top of his game, feeling normal? That almost gave him the strength to head out into the wild.

He reached out and grasped the preteen machine’s hand, linking his fingers with the android’s.

“They’re gonna eat me alive, Blues,” Mickey sighed.

“Nah,” the Proto Man grinned, “if we made it off the island without that Aku fella eating us, I think you’re safe from a bunch of reporters, pal.”

And with that, the pair of pint-sized heroes pushed themselves out into the preshow facility hand-in-hand — but they didn’t even have time to register whether eyes were on them before they heard something loud and bombastic coming from their left.

“MOUSE,” the unmistakable voice of Beatrix III shouted across the lobby, drawing the attention of both parts of the Proto Mouse.

Mickey couldn’t help but smile big: there she was, in the flesh, stomping towards them! The redheaded blood mage looked genuinely pleased for maybe the first time since either of the two had seen her. Standing just behind her, also looking incredibly pleased, was none other than Jaina Proudmoore. The mouse king felt himself starting to tear up a bit as they both came into focus. He’d learned, in his time in Dante’s Abyss, that death wasn’t always permanent, but you couldn’t be sure — as had been the case with Gilly, not everyone had a way back from the long goodbye.

So seeing both sorceresses, well… that felt like a blessing all on its own.

“Trixie!” he squeaked, sprinting towards them. Blues, too, followed, a bit slower.

Beatrix paused a bit as the mouse and the boy approached. Mickey slowed his sprint, watching as she glanced between him and the android, pointing at one and then the other.

“You’re the mouse,” she nodded, muttering almost to herself, “but he’s got the armor on.”

Mickey turned, clapping Blues on the shoulder. “Yep,” he nodded, “we were both PM!”

Jaina appeared behind Beatrix, grabbing her wife’s hand. “A fusion!” she exclaimed. “That’s very potent magic, Mickey.”

Mickey shrugged, kicking his foot against the floor shyly. “It was pretty intense,” he nodded.

“I suppose, then,” Blues chimed in, stepping forward a bit, “this is less of a reunion and more of an introduction, yea?” The preteen machine smiled up at the blood mage, extending a hand. The sorceress looked down at him curiously, but her lips, too, curled into a smile, and she took his hand.

“Beatrix III,” she introduced herself again. “And this is my wife, Jaina.”

“I’m Blues,” the Proto Man smirked. “And that’s my pal, Mickey.”

Beatrix’s eyes glanced between them. “So, are you two, like… together?”

“Eugh,” Mickey nearly gagged, turning away from everyone and clutching his stomach. He whipped back towards the trio of friends, eyes extremely wide. “No,” he held up a gloved hand, “that’s my best friend! I’m already married!”

Blues erupted into giggles, and Beatrix and Jaina couldn’t help but laugh, too. Mickey didn’t quite understand what was so funny, but it brought him warm and fuzzy feelings to see his three friends so joyous. He may have been stuck in the same body as Blues for the majority of the competition, but he hadn’t been far enough behind the Proto Mouse’s eyes to miss the extremely awful shiz the group of them went through, so being reunited here, in the lobby of the preshow facility, laughing together? Well, that was just freakin’ ideal.

And in peace, too! He hadn’t been attacked by a reporter yet, which was, admittedly, a little bit curious. He glanced away from his friends toward the lobby, letting his eyes fall on the throng of journalists that had, indeed, gathered, but… seemed to be more focused on the large television screen at the other end of the lobby. Mickey squinted a bit, trying to catch what was on the TV, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

Taking a few steps closer, he could barely start to tell that he was looking at footage of people… fighting, on some planet he’d yet to visit. He could see robot animals clashing with giant robot people. Down at the bottom of the screen, if he really focused, he could read the words on the lower third.

He turned back toward Trixie, Blues, and Jaina.

“Hey, y’all,” he said, “what’s a Cev-ain’t-ee?”

 

[Aster]

Something didn't feel right about...something, here. What exactly the hell it was, Aster had no goddamn clue and couldn't really put her finger on, but it was bothering her. It was taking way too long, that much she knew; the Abyss itself was already over, the prizes had already been handed out, other contestants who got the axe were already up and about and had wandered out to who cared where, and even the after-game interviews were mostly wrapped up. Just about the only major things left were for Karl to put a neat little bow on the festivities and sign off for what might be the last time.

....now that was a weird thought to think about. She'd process that later, though. Way later. Not important right now. The more important thing here was that, in spite of everything already being so close to wrapped up, there was one little thing missing from it all. Very important, in fact, given it was the entire Terrance-forsaken reason that she'd set foot in this damn 'convention' at all, after what had happened last time she was here.

Where in all that was bathed in Terry's glorious golden light was Rogue?

Aster fidgeted slightly, flipping her phone over in her hand for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour to look at the time. "Shit," she grumbled under her breath. Time was really ticking away here. She'd seen enough of what happened down on 'the island' in past events, how badly some people could get maimed or absolutely devastated, and be right as rain and walk right out again in just a matter of a few days, or hell, even a few hours in some cases. Syntech's medical team and technology was a literal miracle worker. By all accounts, the southern belle should have been up and about and already out of here.

"Either I blinked and missed her..." The wolf muttered, nervously flipping her phone over and over in one hand before slipping it back into her pocket. "Or there's some Grade-A Fuckery going on back where you can't see unless you're part of the madhouse." She hopped up to her feet, pacing slowly away from the bench she'd plopped herself down on at some point, and pointedly brushing a stray needle from the decorative plants off her jacket. The place had only just started to really empty out, with things beginning to wind down, but it was still plenty busy. It wouldn't have been that hard to miss a single person just walking out of the place, even if you were trying to keep an eye out for them, just because...

Her train of thought literally derailed as something hit her. She tilted her head back, nose lifted in the air and took another slow, deliberate sniff of the air. Over all the other smells in the convention — all the people, the muck they brought with them, the countless plants and flowers (some of which had certainly seen better days), the chaotic mish-mash of food and drink and the occasional whiff of blood or some other worse bodily fluids from a frenzied fan argument or two getting out of hand — there was something...something else.

Something familiar.

Lowering her head again, Aster feverishly scanned the area around her, briskly walking forward and alternately pushing herself through or delicately slipping around the crowds. The more she focused on trying to piece together what it was, the more an unpleasant feeling started to crawl through her gut and up into her chest. Whatever it was, it wasn't bringing back any happy memories, that much was for sure. It was like...like...

Ah...shit...

It was attached to a whole lot of of her unpleasant memories, like getting her chest caved in and covering her friends with her own insides, before promptly dying in useless misery and fucking letting everybody down. It finally clicked; beneath that faint, overpowering smell of clinical sterility, like someone who had just walked out of an operating room, was the smell of a specific person....

"Fucking hell!" she whispered, whipping around and renewing her push through everyone and everything in her way. She had practically zeroed in on the smell now, and she wasn't about to miss out on it. "Think you can just slink outta here without being spotted, ya little..." she growled under her breath. "After I went though all the trouble to get my happy ass out here?" It had taken no small amount of internal fighting, after all. Not just because of the Jason-adjacent memories associated with this place, but...a whole lot more internal strife of a much more embarrassing, awkward variety.

A lot of the "ah fuck, what am I even gonna say?" anxiety. Just turning up with a "Hey, girl. Great job out there this year!" would have been, quite possibly, the absolute cringiest fucking thing she could have mustered. Why was talking to people so hard?!

Closing in on the source of her trepidation, Aster finally caught sight of it and....

"....what?"

Something was wrong. Just flat-out, objectively not right with the picture her brain was trying to tell her that, yes, she was seeing correctly. It wasn't the unflappable, impossible to slow down southern belle marching out toward the exit teleporters like she'd been expecting. It was...who in the name of Terrance was that? The more obvious and less important questions of 'why was she here' and 'what was she doing' flickered through the wolf's mind, of course, but quickly fizzled out in favor of the more immediately important one.

Where was she going with Rogue, and why was she even taking her anywhere to begin with?

"....don't like the look of this," she grumbled to herself, her clawed fingers slowly clutching at a fistful of her jacket in a mostly-futile effort to calm herself down. "Not one fuckin' bit..."

 

[Ben]

Ben awoke as though from a dream. What had happened since his death? It came as a blur, yet he had the feeling he was somehow… alive, during that moment. Had he done it? Had he become one with the force?

…Yet, as he puleld himself from a steel slab, those thoughts faded like a half-remembered dream. With a start, he jerked himself up, just in time to hear someone arguing past the door.


He was not entirely surprised to see Yuuka kick open the door with a solid boot, but he was surprised seeing just a second of worry on her face, before she stepped in.

“Ben Kenobi. What. Were you doing. Literally ghosting me on the island.” Yuuka asked.

Ben’s thoughts fell back to what he’d went through on the island. What hellish things they’d undergone, and… now he remembered a little clearer. Becoming one with the force, if but for a moment, and touching at the beginning of the next journey. Watching as the island was infused with the light of a little cartoon mouse.

Yuuka’s stare brought him back.

“I watch you turn into a space ghost, the technicians couldn’t revive you, I’m left about to take care of Dex all by myself, and wondering if you thought this was some fool-proof plan to get away without paying child support-”

Obi-wan stepped forward fearlessly and pulled the irate gardener into a hug.

“I am very happy to see you alive and well again, Yuuka.”

Yuuka, still grumbling, reluctantly took the hug.

“sigh... I missed you too, shrine maiden.”

Obi-wan took the sentiment with a smile.

 

[Beatrix III]

An alert came over everyone’s cell phone. It played on the televisions at the convention center and beeped across the intercoms. Beatrix took out her smartphone, which Jaina had to teach her how to use, and tapped on the message. It was a call to arms.

“Babe, weren’t you living on Cevanti before we met?”

“Why? What’s up?” Jaina said taking out her own phone. “That can’t be good. Let me call one of my contacts.”

The blond dialed her phone and stepped away for a second. Beatrix pocketed her phone again.

“It appears something is going down on Cevanti.” Beatrix said, adjusting her shirt.

“I’ve been there before. I wonder what’s going on that they need help.” Mickey said, rubbing his chin.

Blues crossed his arms. “We should probably see what’s up.”

“Jaina is on the phone with some of her old contacts. She used to work for some organization called The Guild that is based out of the planet.”

Both Blues and Mickey nodded. Jaina hung up the phone and came back over to the group.

“So that was my contact in The Guild. The Markov military found the location of their fallen arbiter and they are mobilizing for a massive war to recover and rescue her. Every faction in Markov is going and they’re putting out the call for anyone willing to assist.” The blond explained, pocketing her phone.

“Let me text Stephen and tell him to meet us in the teleporter room.”

“Yo, teleport your ass over to the teleporters. We’re headed to Cevanti. I assume you saw the Call to Arms? Figure it’s something you’d want to help with. Plus, Jaina wants to go.”

Aaaaand sent. Attached with a selfie of Jaina and group. Beatrix looked down at herself and then at Jaina.

“I’m going to need better clothes if we’re going to Cevanti.”

“Me too. One second.” The blond said.

Jaina snapped her fingers and two oversized travelling trunks appeared in a shimmer of arcane particles. Mickey looked wide eyed for a second.

“How did you do that?”

Beatrix chuckled. “We don’t have our collars on, Mouse. We can do all sorts of things.”

“None of these clothes will work for Cevanti.” Jaina said, scrunching her lips.

“What do you mean?” Beatrix said as she sorted through her various outfits.

“Just trust me, babe. Take this, and this, and these.” Jaina said, handing her wife a white sports bra, a pair of yoga pants, and a pair of boots.”

“Do you have any pants that aren’t going to display my ass to the world?”

Jaina laughed. “Here. Try these. They’re baggy.”

The sorceress handed her wife a pair of blue and gray BDU pants. Jaina had collected her clothes and with a snap of her fingers the two clothing trunks disappeared into a flash of arcane particles.

“Wait here boys, we’re gonna go change.” The sorceress said as she and her wife headed towards the nearest woman’s bathroom.

It took fifteen minutes but both women came back to the group in completely different outfits.

“Alright. Let’s head to the teleporter section. I want to get off this blasted comet.” Beatrix said, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

“Right there with you, Trixie.” Mickey said, following suit.

The four of them made their way over to the Cevanti teleporters where they met Stephen.

“Nice job shooting Pepsi, red.” He jabbed.

“As if you could have done any better. At least my partner won the damn tournament.”

“Language!” Jaina said.

Beatrix huffed and crossed her arms. “Why are you censoring me?”

“It’s practice. A Duchess doesn’t curse like a sailor, babe. If you’re going to be at court, you need to find other ways to call people idiots.” Jaina explained.

“Yes, but…”

“No buts missy. Now let’s get a move on.” The blonde said as she shoved her wife into a teleportation tube.