Elimination Exit

[Blink]

Blink woke up to a bright light. She groaned as a blazing gleam passed through her eyelids when she opened them, causing her to turn her head to the side. She noticed she was laying on a bed. The room itself was white, which led her to assume she was in a hospital bed. As he green eyes adjusted, it became a little easier to identify what had happened. She sat up in the thin bed, looking around at what appeared to be a medical lab. There were scientists running around, but most of them weren't paying attention to her. Only one of them was near her, actively typing away at a computer right by her bed. She looked over at the person, squinting her eyes to try and identify them.

"Please stay still," came a familiar voice. She wasn't sure why it was familiar, but it made her ears twitch. "I'm almost done."

She didn't listen to the voice, instead actively moving to try and see around the computer. Her emerald eyes bulged wide in surprise as she immediately recognized the worker that was operating the terminal. It was the same Native American-looking woman that she had spoke to outside of the sign up tent at the very beginning of this adventure. The woman had guided her to the right line, setting her on this path that led her into this crazy game. "You!" She squeaked aloud, finding her voice. She realized how different it felt to talk when she was hydrated, vice starving for clean water out in the Abyss.

"It's good to see you again," the woman said with a smile. "How do you feel? Can you stand?"

For the first time, Claire looked down at her limbs, as if wanting to ensure they were all there. It seemed like a silly thing to want to verify, but in her last few moments of the game she could clearly remember having one less arm. But for now, it appeared, all of her fingers worked how they were supposed. She moved her bare feet over the floor and put some weight on them, standing up with relative ease. It felt good to stand on clean tile floor for a change. She was already wearing her green and yellow cloak, but didn't have trademark slip-on shoes. Those were located at the foot of the bed, so she promptly put them on. "Looks like everything works," she said, relieved.

"What about your memory?" The familiar woman asked. "Can you remember everything that happened in the game?"

Blink thought back. The first thing she remembered was laying her eyes on that Super Barbie doll. It was a warm memory...it reminded her of how comfortable she felt between battles because of that silly toy. She recalled meeting Violet, the experienced lavender-topped woman. She remembered losing Violet very quickly afterwards, sending her in a downward spiral. There was the big man; Ganondorf, whom spoke very little but showed incredibly loyalty even in his injured state. She recalled her battles; killing the green-haired boy in the very beginning and winning the duel at the lighthouse. But the last thing she could remember was taking on the man with the giant gun. He had blew her arm off and sent the most excruciating pain through her body. Her hand touched the arm as if to verify it was still there. The last thing she remembered was stabbing that man through a portal with her charred bane, just before he wiped her from oblivion. It was a satisfying but painful memory.

"Yes," she finally answered. "My memory is fine. I remember...everything about Dante's Abyss. Even the parts I wished I didn't."

"You did good," the woman said, trying to comfort her. "You got 15th place out of 46. That's pretty far for somebody brand new around here."

Blink nodded. It did feel good to have made it so far, even though she felt a little unfulfilled. Outside of killing someone already half-dead, she hadn't gotten to do a whole lot. She hadn't fought her way to the top 15. She had just survived that long. It was nice to have done so well, but...she knew that she was going to need to do better if she was going to ever get home.

"Here are your personal effects," the woman offered her a box. Blink squinted. She hadn't brought anything with her.

"Uh..." she opened the cardboard container to see what was inside. There were two mechanical objects waiting for her. One was a rectangular device that looked like something akin to a phone from her old world. The other was a wrist watch with a glowing screen. Between them was a sheet of paper that had two words on it. Blink's eyes went wide again at the sight of the name on it.

Claire Ferguson. Coruscant.

Blink quickly snatched the box from the woman's hand. How could this have her real name on it? She hadn't told anybody anything about who she was or where she came from. The Indian woman looked confused at the girl's react, but she didn't ask any personal questions. She just sat back in her chair. "Well, from here, you can go to the viewing area to watch the finale that's coming up. Or you can head out back to one of the verses."

Her mind was still on the piece of paper. It was obviously something left for her. "What is Coruscant?"

"Really?" the woman asked in disbelief. "Wow, you really are new around here, huh? It's one of the verses. It's like, the largest city in the omniverse.

"I want to go there."

"Alright, well, come this way..."

Blink got up to follow the woman that had processed her out of the game. She looked around to see some of the other contestants waking up from their deep sleep; one of them she noted to be the big man known as Ganondorf. She had no intention of sticking around to say goodbye to him, but she was happy to see that he was okay even after what must have been his elimination.

As Ms. Dante's Abyss Helper walked Blink out into a plain room, the pink mutant considered what she was doing. She still had no idea why she was here in the Omniverse. She also didn't know where to go. But somebody here knew her real name and wanted her to go this Coruscant place. It was a good enough way to start her adventures here.

She was in a room for a handful of portals. The portals looked different then the ones she made. There were small, like glowing blobs of liquid. Her amazon-looking friend stopped her in front of one. "This is Coruscant," she told Blink. "I'll be heading that way too, once this is all over. I hope to see you there. It was nice to meet you."

You too.

Blink shook the girl's head. As she walked off, Blink took a moment to reflect before walking into the portal. She was no longer in a game. She was now in real life, regardless of how crazy this new place seemed. Jumping through this portal into the wide open Omniverse was scarier then playing this game of life or death. But she had to...she had to get answers. She had to find her purpose and learn about her new surroundings. She felt cut off from her friends back home and all she wanted was to find something familiar. Something that made her comfortable. She felt, as she had once upon a time, exiled from everything she knew.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, into the only portal she was ever scared to enter.

[Retane]

(Pt1)

It was done.

It was over.

Everything that had happened prior to now had lead up to this moment in time. Had he not been banished from his own universe and time line, he wouldn't have been standing here. Had this place not been created by Omni, and Karl Jack not been summoned, just as he had been pulled from limbo, this very lobby wouldn't be here. Had he not recovered the Malefactor from the Seventh Tier of Corsucant, he wouldn't have been as powerful. If he had never met Jack, he'd not have had someone to try and protect him from himself.

Retane looked up at the rankings at a nearby monitor hanging from the ceiling. His own profile rested with a big red 'X' across his face. He had finished just in the top eight. He had been mortally wounded, and still managed to just make the cut. Never before had he ever made it so far. He didn't win, but he had done something he could not believe. He had gotten stronger. Far stronger.

"Is that him! I can't believe it is him! That's Retane!" A young red headed boy tugged at his friends shirt as he recognized the green warrior.

"Oh snap it is him! You should go ask him for his autograph!" He's friend confirmed and teased and the blonde hear that had first spotted the namek wore a shocked expression. There was no way in hell he was going to as the bloodthirsty Emerald Fiend.

"Screw that! I think I'd rather be put in the woods with Jason Vorhees! At least you know what's going to happen with that one. Retane on the other hand..." The boy stopped and shuddered as the Emerald Warrior looked in his direction. The fear in his eyes was obvious as he realized that Retane had heard him.

The Hell of the Abyss took a moment and let out a low growl. The boy and his friend backed away as he took a step towards them. They were scared and they should be. He wsas Retane the Exiled, Leader of the Horsmen, and the God of Death and now he would stalk his next victim just as he had done in the Abyss. The two adolescents backed thesmelves into a wall. They had no where to go. The Executioner of the Abyss clenched his fist and the boy had noted. It glowed a green hue, the collar no longer able to hinder his strength and power.

The two were afraid as he raised his hand and placed it on both their shoulders at the same time. They both glowed momentarily letting out low whimpers until it was over. As the auras dissipated thet both donned cloaks. One of them was the representation of Retane's very own. It was dark but at a closer glance you could see the intricate camouflage. The dark splashes of orange, red, green and black mingled with each other. The left arm had the ice patch of Jack Frost's smiling visage and on the right shoulder was the profile of Tapion in all his glory.

The other teenager now donned the Guardian's own cloak; The same style that Jack had requested when he walked down the corridor that would take him to the elevator. Both cloaks had a single difference though. On the backs was a glowing image of two hands; Jack and Retane's. Both Horsemen's signatures were beneath the image.

The two looked down at their perfect fitting cloaks and smiled. When they looked back to thank the Emerald Warrior for their 'on of a kind' gifts, the dark warrior was half way down the lobby.

[Retane]

(Pt. 2)

The dark fiend found himself in a room in the dojo. There was a virtual keyboard hovering in front of him. He pressed a multitude of keys remembering hos he had used the library from before. He didn't know why but deep down inside, he had been called here. Something or someone wanted ihim to be here. As his finger stroked the last button, a humming happened. A wall slid open and a table floated towards him in a slow ominous fashion.

His eyes glanced at the items that were laid out on the table and couldn't believe it. They were all there. The namekian took a breath, unsure if it was a ruse and reached out. He hesitated for a moment and finally touched the first item.

The Cards of Destiny. To anyone else, they looked just like a deck of cards. But to the assassin, they were deadly weapons. A flick of the wrist was all they needed and they'd cut through the air hoping to bit into the flesh of the unsuspecting victim.

His hands moved over to the next object. It was a stick with a blade. The blade itself was hooked. It was the true representation of death. If your victim was in range and tried to get away, all you had to to was reach out and snatch them back towards you, taking their life as you did. It symbolized him as being the Reaper. It symbolized him being Death. It was the ultimate representation of what he had become. But only the namek knew how to tap it's power and let it reach out and touch a person. The Reaper's Scythe meant having to make choices that only a specific person could.

Next to it was the ever hungry pole-ax. The glaive he had took from the speedy man in the red suit. Flash they had called him. The spandex wearing human had never deserved this item. He didn't know how to use it. He didn't respect it in all it's glory. To the Emerald Fiend though, it was an extension of himself. It made his sharp nails just a little longer. It loved the taste of blood. It didn't care about who it belong to. It was a mercenary just like the Dark Hunter was.

Next to it was the darkest painful item he had come across. The Red Pyramid Helmet.

"Oh? You like the helmet? I'll let you have this thing since you keep eyeing it. But I'll need to get that pack off your back, and those binoculars." The Golden Warrior was arrogant and truly reminded him of Arith in quite a few ways. There were no jokes though. Jack stood there staring at a notched bow wielded by a rugged but proud man.

The Emerald Warrior sneered as he observed the situation. Everyone seemed arrogant and proud. Even himself, but he was smarter and with a shrug dropped the jetpack and binoculars. on the ground.

The rustic helm on the back of the King felt so ominous, that Retane wanted to sate his curiosity and understand why it felt as if it was calling out to him.

Beside the helm, was a old and dirty hockey mask as well as a leather glove that had blades on it. He hadn't requested te items and looked at them curiously for a few moments and shook his head.

The last item was a cell phone. The same phone that Jack had started with.

"I told you. I would see you at the end." The familiar voice called from behind

Retane looked back at Jack Frost. The Guardian had waited for him. The namekian looked deep in to the eyes of his friend and saw that the Guardian of the Horsemen was different. Tainted with nightmares he would never forget. It was the Emerald Warriors fault, but it was a path they had chosen. Subconsciously the Dark Hunter started putting the items in the green duffel bag labeled '#04' without realizing it, and through it over his shoulder.

The ice wielder had Savior in his hand now and grinned, nervously as usual. There was still pain that showed on his lips though, even if Jack tried to mask it It was that slight curl and arch at the edge of his lip. "They are kicking us out and calling you to the elevator to head to a VIP room. I just wanted to catch you before I left. I'm heading back to that spot you told us about. I'll meet you there. "

The Guardian paused for a moment as he turned away and looked back. "I saw what you did for those kids by the way. I won't tell anyone. I promise." Jack left it at that and walked off.

Retane grinned and took a breath. It was time to become a Very Important Person.

[Erza Scarlet]

Erza jolted awake, upper body flailing forwards and snapping a number of now-tangled cords that had been loosely attached to her stomach, chest and shoulders under a flimsy blue plastic robe that stuck uncomfortably to her sweaty, bare skin. It crinkled loudly as her arms made her way around her body, to her burns, cuts, scrapes, and finally the gash in her midsection that had eventually been her undoing.

All gone.

A wave of relief flowed over her. That means Harry and Pepsiman are okay. And Mickey will be, and Samus too. And all the others who'd been killed on the island. It was hard to remind herself that it was all supposed to just be a game, a contest, albeit quite a painful and heartrending one. She wasn't sure what was, or was to be, the fate of that caterpillar that had cemented the well-meaning crew together, but at the very least those people she herself had attacked, like the one with the explosives and that poor boy by the medpacks, were equally safe.

Her breathing slowed, and her hands returned to the bed, propping her up as she sat for a moment, allowing herself to acclimate to her new surroundings. Stark white room, stark white bedsheets. An IV bag at the bedside was dribbling its contents to the ground, its target having forcefully removed it only moments ago, and a black-and-silver boxlike apparatus of an unfamiliar nature sat dejectedly at the other end. A few stray cords and tools still seemed to be attached to Erza, and she took it upon herself to find and remove them posthaste, leaving a smattering of tubes, electrodes and other prickly thingies on the edges of the bed and the floor. In the corner laid a scorched blue skirt, torn to shreds but still somehow managing to be folded quite neatly, and a pile of scraps that looked vaguely like it might have been the armor she wore on the island.

Apart from that though, the room was bare and empty. Stripping free of the bedsheets and that awful sticky robe, Erza flung herself to her feet, stretching her limbs and neck. It certainly felt good to be not ripped in half.

That wasn't the only thing that felt good, though. A hand reached up to her neck and felt skin. She could feel her innate magic flowing once again through her veins, and it felt good. Well, it felt normal, but that was a solid step up even from wielding Mjolnir or the Master Sword. Those weapons felt nice to hold, but even then, it was nothing compared to what she usually had.

It was good to be back.

It was at this moment that Erza realized she was standing in the middle of a highly-supervised hospital room butt naked.

In a panic, she spun, enveloping herself in a blinding yellow light before emerging in the same outfit she'd come here in - Blue skirt, steel armor with a cross on the front, and a nondescript broadsword. She smirked and opened her eyes, confident again now that her safety blanket had returned. Let them have their show. I can take all comers.

With that, a newly invigorated Erza kicked open the door to the hospital proper, leaving behind the rags she'd died in as she marched down the hall towards the viewing lobby. It was time to go find her friends.

[Gildarts]

Faces faded, smells faded, everything around him faded with the sense of touch he had lost. The sound of his rapid heart had stopped beating when his chest erupted with the burning plunge formed by a liquid beam of light.

He had entered a place neither light nor dark, yet still felt a great sense of gravity hovering on his shoulders. So this is where the fallen slumber... The wordless man could see no tangible body, nor wield his own fist before him. All that remained was gone and he could only wait as the solitude, strung with time, passed only with his relapsing memories.

His allies of his past life were sure to live on, carrying the legends of his generation down to their children, and creating new stories to tell to their grandchildren.

Flashes of memories came to his mind, all the smiles he had shared, both in the Omniverse and his home realm. Fairy tail and Ambrosia, as well as the many faces he had encountered along the way. Those who had stood by him with endurance and never faltering loyalty, were the same who gave his pride purpose.

The wizard always had faith in his heart, yet sometimes hope and willpower alone weren't enough to win a battle to the death. He realized, I wasn't strong enough.

And in the darkness, the fallen man had no one to lean on.


Gildarts heard the question strumming in his subconscious, "Have you any regrets?"

What an easy answer, and yet, before he could move his slowed mind to project the words, the haze of dawn rushed into his eyes.

And then, the scent of fresh sheets softly met his nose. The powerful grip of his organic hand met with the first thing closest to him and the compound was immediately crushed by his mighty touch. The room shook as his crash magic went berserk and a splice began to rupture between the walls that stood only to box him in.

Gildarts wasn't fully convinced of his revival and looked around the sterile hopsital room as the fresh dust settled. It was much like the one he had awoken in Coruscant, yet this one, in his conscious presence, became a thrashed room that resembled much less than a trash heap.

A nurse peaked around the corner, fearful of disaster or her own imminent doom, as the intimidating male turned to find the menacing burns on his back had healed. "I thought I was dead." He uttered, life became surreal as he held the flesh of his own fist.

"Contestants come here afterwards, you are a Prime, and a strong one at that. How'd you manage to break an entire room?"

Gildarts enjoyed the small compliment, or rather, he took it as a complement before his eyes fell back on his silver arm. "Why is it that I do not have both my arms back?"

The nurse gathered her flustered self with enough courage to answer his question, "It is perhaps that you are only truthly yourself with the scars that you have bear."

Gildarts tilted his head as he analyzed the steel of his palm. It had once been covered in blood, but had they all survived? Or was it just him who Omni had revived?

His eyes remained on the shining glint of gray seeing only the scarlet stains that could never be removed. Those he had killed because the game had told him to, all held dear the same things he had.

Honor, friendship, triumph, and defeat.

With a new life came a new man however cliché comebacks seemed, he would create a new legacy as his goals reformed into what they had once been. He had not managed to escape the Omniverse even in death, it was time to pick up where he had left off before his arrival here.

Meeting the Abyss, battling to the death, his experience had given him a new purpose, one to add onto his previous priority. His motivation had never faltered, and the same remained in his reason: Them.

He had but two goals.

Become stronger, and remember the fallen.

[Mickey Mouse]

It was raining.

The eyes of the bleeding space marine locked on to him. The metallic pole jutted out through his abdomen, and though the mouse couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw the light in the man’s eyes flickering out.

This man’s life was not in his hands.

He turned to see the ninja staring him down. Lightning danced around his blade, and around the mouse’s hammer, and high above them in the clouds.

Gripping Mjolnir tightly, Mickey Mouse charged Sasuke Uchiha.

He jolted upright. Blinding white fluorescent lights assaulted his little black pupils. The mouse raised both of his gloved hands to his face and—

…both?

His gaze fell to his arms, and sure enough, both of his hands were there. He wiggled his eight fingers to assure himself of their realness. If his hand had regenerated, then… did that mean? He looked up, taking in his surroundings: he seemed to be in some sort of fancy-looking medical bay, a bunch of shiny contraptions scattered about the room. He looked down at his body to see himself dressed in a hospital gown and laying on a comfy-looking bed.

All of this could only mean one thing: Dante’s Abyss was over.

He had never been happier in his life.

Removing the various attachments the doctors and nurses of the Dante’s Abyss facility had stuck in him, the mouse slid off the hospital bed and quickly changed out of his hospital gown and into some more appropriate and Mickey-esque clothes, summoned in a matter of minutes with Omnilium. Convenient system this Omniverse had.

He walked—no, he ran out of the medical bay and out into the Preshow facility, relishing at the sight of all of the absolutely, unflinchingly normal people that milled about. Things were winding down, it seemed, and through the crowd, he saw a man in a duster chasing after a streak of flowing red hair.

He smiled and ran after them.

“Excuse me!” a voice called behind him, “Excuse me, Mr. Mouse!” Mickey stopped his sprint and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the same bubbly blonde from the barracks chasing after him. She’d lost her sass and now seemed much more peppy.

“I’ve been asked to inform any of the final nine competitors to proceed to the VIP area to receive their prize,” she smiled broadly at him. “And since you’re the second runner-up, you’d better get going!”

The mouse blinked. Second runner-up? He supposed that was true. The only people left at the clinic when that blast of plasma had overcome him were the marine and the ninja, so by all accounts, that made him third. He wondered, idly, what type of prize the third place winner of this murder island contest would receive; a part of him didn’t want to accept it and give them the satisfaction of legitimizing this awful competition, but he figured it would be better to be polite and hurry up and get this game finished. Besides, Samus might be there.

The blonde turned away from him, and Mickey took one last look at the gate to the Nexus that Erza and Harry had passed through. They were gone.

Soon, he thought.

He scurried off to receive his reward.

[Gildarts]

With drooping eyes he took a hesitant step, and rightfully so, for his knee bowed beneath is weight.

His mind, a scramble of words and actions, he had almost forgotten about the sole reason he had died in the first place. Kindal and Karl.

Cheating tarnished his code of nobility. And his honor couldn't stand corrupted morality. In a world of warriors and cowards, he would gladly take those willing to fight, for they brought him much more interest. Rivalry created his strength, so he had always searched for someone powerful enough to defeat him, and now, he had met his match. One was in a golden suit of armor, with his ego roaring louder than a lion's. The next was the one who had slain him, glowing with the chosen sword of betrayal.

He resolved he wouldn't go after the Game Maker, that would imply spite of his death, and he had been thankful for the chance to face off against the best, even if he had not earned the title of champion.

Kindal however, was still dangerous. Had Gildarts seen him now, the room would no longer be white, but instead splattered with the same destruction he had wrought. Gildarts, a Prime of action, stumbled along getting used to the weight of his body, and the control he possessed over his magic surged as a buoy which teetered and sunk beneath waves.

On the island, for once in his long life, he had known what it meant to be tame. He considered grabbing the collar that had drained him of his strength, for the disengaged relic was waiting on a square silver plate next to his hospital cot. His hand slowly reached for it, but then he smiled before his silver arm could touch it.

"Tempting, tempting, but I'm stronger for them without it." The Prime rose from his braced position against the white wall and looked at the destruction he had wrought upon the room. The sight was almost sickening. And it never changed.

[Doomguy]

In the briefest of moments, in less time it took to notice that my head had been a few inches away from my neck, I found myself staring up at the ceiling of a sterile and lifeless room. There was a moment of complete of blank staring as I wondered just what had happened when logic finally stumbled back into the upright position and I figured it out: I died. In that rage filled fog of memory that was the last five minutes of consciousness, I remembered the climatic. The BFG that I used to destroy the world around me and the lighting hammer that I wielded when I went toe to toe with the remaining of Gil's cronies. A black haired teen held a sword of pure electricity, and when I was so close to to the end I, well, ended up here.

I looked down from the horizontal position and just wondered what happened between then and now. There was no steel bar through sticking out through my chest, nor was there much of anything except a light blue hospital gown. The cheap kind that you swore was made of paper, that restricted your movement and yet failed to cover your ass. Even my helmet was gone, although it had practically been in two pieces by the end. Diodes and needles were connected to almost every part of my body where there were once wounds, despite that I was in the same shape as I had left the dome sans that collar around my neck. Not that there weren't some phantom pain, with bothered me every time I move and my mind was still trying to juggle the sudden disparity between me in the throws of battle and half naked on a gurney. Enough that I would for hours be rubbing my neck as I half expected it to fall off.

Death was not an unpleasant experience, but I had no plan on doing so again any time soon.

By the time I managed to pull the IV needles out of my skin, a well dress lady with a brunette ponytail walked in, high heels and long skirt made her step carefully, half because of the waxy tiled floors and perhaps because she rather not be in arm's length of me. A rather needless precaution, as I was already focused in the process of summoning new clothing.

"Karl Jak would like to congratulate you on placing second in this year's Dante's Abyss" I rolled my eyes, the less I had to hear of that scum the better. Her words were shallow and the kind of corporate hollow response with no substance to it. The kind the UAC gave out all the time. "He had asked that all primes who have reached the Top 9 come to the VIP room"

"I want nothing to do with that snake. Go tell him to take a long walk out of a short airlock" I answered, the form of a pair of pants and a t-shirt started to take shape "And where the fuck is my stuff?"

"Can't you just summon more?" She asked innocently enough, but I still shot a glare at her that made her step back in fear. It seemed that the idea that primes could just make things out of thin air made people think that we couldn't possibly put sentimental value in something. She looks to the side to avoid my gaze, a small frown made her look somewhat guilty. But I doubted I was going to get an apology.

"I will have someone pick up your things. Either way, you will receive your prize at the VIP meeting."

I gave a sigh. I didn't want to be here any longer, but I wasn't about to turn my nose up at something after all the pain I've been through. A nod told her I would be there, and after she left I put my new set of clothing on. Blue jeans and an a green shirt with the United States Space Marine Corps logo on the front. With nothing else here for me, I left the room and walked over to this "VIP meeting".

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The gunslinger's eyes opened slowly at first, blinking through harsh, fluorescent light. Though his body lay upon the plush cot in the medical ward, his mind had yet to fully return. Consciousness trickled back into his mind as water leaks from dripping tap. For many moments the ex-Turk lay barely conscious, his mind slowly slipping back into his body. Unable to voluntarily move a single fiber, he could only lay and blink away the light as the attendees buzzed around him.

“Vincent Valentine?” an unfamiliar male voice asserted from somewhere beyond the fog.

“Yes,” a second voice answered, this one female. Her words became louder as the Prime felt cool, gloved hands on his neck. “Entrant #30.” As she spoke, the Prime could feel something being freed from his neck.

“After you're done with that, administer this.” The first voice commanded. Vincent lacked the strength to even focus his eyes in the direction of the voice.

“What is this?” The female voice responded, bewildered.

“It's a bit above your pay-grade. Just do as you're told,” the gruff male voice sneered. “Won't you, love?” After a short pause, the pale Prime felt the prick of a needle piercing his neck.

- - -

“Ah, I see you're coming around. Great. Really swell. Listen, everyone else is pretty much gone. You might wanna follow suit.”

The raven-haired Prime's eyes sprang open, spinning wildly in their sockets. He forced himself into a sitting position, a familiar headache pounding behind his ears.

“Yeah, you're gonna feel kinda groggy for a bit. Dantephysics and all.”

Vincent turned to face the source of the banter, his crimson irises slowly focusing in on the bespectacled man sitting by his side. He looked to be not a day over 30, a messy tuft of blonde hair coming nearly over his glasses. A white lab coat denoted his status, a clipboard clutched in his hand. “So, let's finish up. Name? Do you know where you are?”

The medical worker rattled off question after question, each designed to determine his level of consciousness. Vincent replied in kind, slowly getting a better grip on where he was. The medical ward seemed rather vacant, with only a few other technicians mulling around, attending the occasional patient. He looked to be nearly the last one to awaken.

“Well, all seems to be in order. You've come back from this rather well. Expect to keep those scars, though. Call them a gift from Karl to you.” The man smiled mischievously.

“My head...” The prime muttered, digging his fingers into his scalp. He felt like a drill war boring through his gray matter.

The attendant looked back at him quizzically. “Headache? You should be relatively painless; the revival process is usually pretty smooth. Most report more numbness than anything else. Perhaps I should contact Mr. Jak...”
Vincent spun toward the bespectacled man at the second mention of the event coordinator's name. “Karl Jak. Where is he? I need to speak with him!”

“Mr. Jak?” the man replied, cocking his head. “Gone, I'd imagine. He's already doled out the rewards. I haven't the foggiest where he goes in the off-season.”

The cloaked prime swore under his breath, still rubbing his sore noggin. “I have to find him. He's the reason I joined this bloodbath!”

The attendant pulled his chair away from the cot a few inches, wary of the gunslinger's ire. “I'm afraid I can't help you. And, uh, you'll need to leave. We're closing down.”

Vincent sprang to his feet, feeling at his waist for Cerberus. “I'm not going anywhere until I speak with Karl Jak.”

“I'm afraid you have no say in that,” a voice responded behind the prime. Vincent was left with a moment to ponder this before cold steel met his neck, electricity crackling through his body. His limbs fell limp, his tall frame slumping to the floor as unconsciousness swallowed him once more.

[Gildarts]

The Lobby. Corridors of shining silver and white, streamed full of people who disrupted the glimmer of daylight. Cameras flashed and the patches of light antagonized his eyes, itching with a heightened sense of thrilling fear.

It was a strangely displaced emotion, for his role in the tournament was over, yet the startling fact remained that his unrestrained magic had not been embraced. He stood on the precipice, always a hair away from the edge of a massacre, and now people, who lacked any sense of caution began to swarm around him. He was engulfed by the smothering scent of sweet cologne, and moved with the clumped tide of newsmen.

He hadn't won, so why were there so many, people prodding him with marshmallow-phones and sentences that struck him with open ended questions?

He hadn't wanted any of it and his heart wasn't there. Over the sparks of light, he saw no darkness, yet the roar of the room faded in his ears, leaving him only to his stirring thoughts. He was left contemplating how to submerge the profound carnivorous power that threatened to swallow him whole, but he knew there was no answer and no solution because there had never been any control in the first place. Those he had met with on the island, and Guu and Erza too, where were they? Did they remain? Did they take the same breaths as him in this very moment? Or were they separated once more by the broken limits of death? And that one woman known as Samus, she had fought fiercer than many of the warriors he had met and fallen. Their survival had gone an unanswered mystery, stirring as an enigma in his distant mind.

Eyes moved to him from the crowd, people unraveled his bandages to get a souvenir as he grimaced and pushed through their lashing grip. Pestering with undeniable temptation, magic surged within him, he held his fist and gulped to keep it down. Baying the storms within.

...

The rioting struggle grew illustrated in the creasing lines of his face. His eyes skimmed the distance, looking for a familiar one, anyone at all that could strike him with the friendly flint of fire, but the translucent and indistinct faces he did see only blurred together with the same mundane gray.

At least that had been the case, until a bruised face hanging in the shadows accidentally turned toward the distracted Prime, who had been aiming his eyes on a point far from the people, for fear of unleashing his worst on the bystanders. Despite the mage's skimming attention span, nothing peaked his interest more than when he caught a fleeting glimpse of his prey. Gildarts felt the restraint of his aim waver as the unhinged trigger within threatened his control in a nagging ferocious pull. Rage rose as freely and unmatched as the gusting wind, and it's heat grew more brazen than the flare of hot lightening.

Kindal had been ducking to avoid the cameras, but it seemed his scandal was vaguely known. Perhaps the secondary who slammed his nose had ended up leaking some information. Kindal was comforted by the thought that the stringy man would be dealt with later, only to be assaulted by another fresh voice.

"Hahaha what happened to you? Meet your pride or something and it decided it wanted it's money back?" Someone nearby had shouted at Kindal, who stopped in place with his eyes full of ferocity and scheming menace; he had been hiding in the crowd with his hunched shoulders stooping low, which didn't surprise Gildarts in the slightest. As Kindal was nothing more than a coward.

Vengeance wasn't the first thing that breached his mind, no, Gildarts was a man slow to anger, but what did flood the rage that rattled within was that of only disappointment.

Kindal brushed past Gildarts, having seen him yet still hoping to slither away in an attempt to avoid his starchy gaze. Caught by the collar of his Syntex polo shirt, Gildarts swung the short once-mercenary, current businessman, in a humiliating fashion.

Hanging by his own noose, Kindal didn't protest, yet instead the muscles bunched and his already purple face swelled with bright color. "Look who I have here." Gildarts uttered to his floundering fish, unamused.

Kindal held his tongue and merely scoffed.

"I would say that I'd give you a taste of what is coming to you, but it looks like someone beat me to the punch." Gildarts referenced the pale man's broken nose that had dried blood smoothing the cracked lines of broken bone.

"Why you-!" Kindal, the man with a superiority complex, had not received the promotion he had hoped from Karl Jak and was sick of the way the Prime was treating him. He launched a fist at Gildarts and it landed over the Prime's eye.

Kindal's eyes filled with shame as Gildarts hadn't even flinched.

"You'll have to do better than that." The auburn-haired male spoke, shaking away the secondary's blow. "And as a man who has done what you have to me, you should be able to take what you dish out."

Gildarts referred to the death sentence he had received in Dante's Abyss, it would be the same shared fate that the vain Kindal now feared, as he remained beneath the Prime's untouchable silver hand.

...

[spoiler]Immortal Curse, Falling On the Sword

The freshly inspired Gildarts knew his rival was waiting for him, if the golden man had proved to be a formidable opponent even with the inhibitor on, then there was hope in the everlasting goal that he would one day be slain.

Gildarts, a mighty hero and plagued by a curse, quested to be slain by someone worthy. Such a fated demise had never crossed his mind, and it never would.

Deep within him, the valiant warrior desired an honorable death to carry on his legacy, but he did not desire to fall by his own hand. The yearning to battle anything stronger than him was embedded in his instinct and he never accept defeat by anyone less than he.

Perhaps there was a profound depth in his desire to be freed of crash magic, yet it was a part of him. He wouldn't accept dying without it, no, the collar he had once reached for meant nothing even as he knew too well of the daunting fear he shared for the fate of those around him, fear they would die by his own hand.

His own words shook him, "Fear is not evil, it tells you what your weakness is. And once you know your weakness, you can become stronger as well as kinder."

Fear of murdering his loved ones was his worst weakness and he was skeptical that it would never be overcome. Of course, there didn't seem to be much death in the Omniverse thanks to Prime resurrection, and yet, this same attempt at reassurance was unable to bring peace to his unsound mind. Instead, his thirst to battle had yet to be quenched. And nor would it be by the arid cascade of sand that blanketed the realm where his rival dwelled.

There were many things the Prime did not know, such as that his Leader Guu had once defeated the man, that the golden king ruled over the dunes as a mighty tyrant, and that the same king was unable to be slain by anyone but a god.

Of these things, and perhaps the most important, Gildarts had no way to know:

His name was Gilgamesh.[/spoiler]

[Ganondorf]

The black void in which Ganondorf found himself was both familiar and infuriating. The Demon King really DID hate dying. First Enel had killed him, and now the island. Only the knowledge that he had sent quite a few others into the great abyss gave his own death any peace. Still, Ganondorf thought as he reminisced over the events leading to his own death, the battle with Gilgamesh atop their respective dragons and the fall which had claimed his life, It would have been preferable to have killed those people and not have died myself.

As before, the dark atmosphere of death washed away from Ganondorf as he felt life return to him. The great King of the Dark’s yellow eyes opened slowly, his eyelids lethargic and heavy. His body felt as though he’d been sleeping for ages and Ganondorf sighed as he took in his surroundings from his prone position. Stark white walls, lined the large, open room, strewn with beeping and flashing devices, and sterile cots. Here and there, white-clad men and women moved about, checking on the few prone individuals still lying upon the tables.

With a groan, Ganondorf pulled himself into a seated position, his sun-darkened skin pimpled from lying on the cold metal cot. As he did so, the Gerudo King realized that, aside from the nearly translucent linen sheet that had fallen to his waist as he sat up, he was wearing nothing else. It was so uncannily similar to his dream on the island that Ganon nearly leapt to his feet. Before he could, however, a calm, male voice nearby stopped him short, its tone equal parts amusement and arousal.

“Well, it’s about time you woke up, sleepy head,” Karl Jak said from nearby, the man seated upon a steel chair at Ganondorf’s side. A wry grin tugged at the dark-haired gentleman’s lips, as he eyed the Gerudo’s semi-nude form. The Demon King’s brows lowered in irritation at Jak’s appraisal of him, and the man raised his hands in mock surrender and chuckled softly.

“Calm down, big guy! I’m just appreciating the goods. No harm in that, right?”

The Gerudo snorted in derision, though the slight reddening of his dark skin caused Karl’s chuckle to grow louder. At least, until Ganondorf shot the man one of his signature glares and asked, “Why am I naked? I’ve died before and when I revived I was clothed.”

“Well,” Karl replied, that smug grin still annoyingly plastered on his face, “it took you a bit longer than the others to come to after you died… and that armor looked mighty uncomfortable. So, I figured, why not let the beast go free, if you catch my drift.”

This time, Ganondorf’s blush was accompanied by a growl from deep within his throat. “I doubt very much you’d appreciate it if I truly ‘let the beast go free’, Mr. Jak. I assume you’ve seen my exploits on that island.”

And with that, all flirtatiousness left Karl Jak and though his smile never left, it was little more than a slightly playful, and professional, baring of the teeth. “Oh, you’re no fun. I guess maybe stripping you was going a bit far. Still, I just HAD to see Big Daddy G, at least once, before you left us. Your performance in my little game was far beyond my expectations. And that battle with Gilgamesh on the dragons? Our ratings were never higher!”

Ganondorf scowled, tossing aside the sheet in a grandiose manner and rising from the table. Around the room, the personnel gasped and covered their mouths or eyes, though he got a few appreciative looks as well, and another appraisal from his host. The look Karl was giving Ganondorf was like that of a man eying a choice slab of meat; an experience both foreign to the Dark Lord and infuriating. Through gritted teeth, he demanded his clothing and belongings, eliciting an expression of desire denied from his companion, and a shrug.

“Fine, fine. I’ll have your clothing returned to you shortly,” Karl said with a sigh. “I have to get to the VIP room anyway. During your rest, the final contestants and the winner were decided and it wouldn’t do for me to not be there to mingle with them. Still, it was a pleasure to meet you face to face, Daddy G.”

And with that, Karl Jak rose from his chair and left the room, though not without another look at the massive Gerudo and his… assets. Ganondorf sighed and sat upon his recently vacated cot to await the return of his things. Men! he thought as he watched Karl’s tail end pass through the doorway, a coy smile raising the corner of his lips. Perhaps one day, the Lord of Darkness would have time for the attentions of others. But, for now, he had work to do and a world to bring to order.

[Samus Aran]

Samus’s death was how she always imagined it would be. Quick, painful. In the end she didn’t even have the power to struggle in her last moments. Willpower can’t do much for a sword through the heart.

It was almost perverse to wake up after that. Omni had no right. But here she was, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a heart monitor. After all she’d seen, all she’d experienced in this world, it didn’t even register as strange anymore. She simply stared at the ceiling and continued being angry.

“Weird, isn’t it?”

Samus turned and the beep, beep of her heart monitor shot up instantly. Cindy held her hands up with what looked like a genuinely sheepish smile.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Sammy. If I wanted to do that I already would have done so. Besides, I’m not so stupid as you. Starting a fight in the middle of a military-outfitted complex? God damn. If I’d have known you’d taken it so personally, I would have just let you have the egg.”

Samus’s heart rate maintained its steady rhythm.

Cindy took one of her crossed legs from atop the other, stretching them out and making to stand from her metal chair. “Just wanted to say that it wasn’t personal. Never was.”

Samus growled. “That’s the problem.”

Cindy turned.

“People like you think you can do whatever you want and get away with it. You think it doesn’t matter but it does.”

Cindy tried to stop the corner of her mouth curling up, but she did raise an obvious eyebrow. “You really think that?”

Samus’s next words were so loud as to almost be a shout. “I do.”

Cindy laughed. “I thought after that game you’d get it. I died. So did you. So what’s a little bash on the head? Are you seriously still mad about that after you just got killed? How mad are you at the guy who killed you?”

“Pretty mad,” Samus admitted, still growling, “But not for that reason. I’m just mad that he came out on top. You, I’m mad at because you betrayed me.”

Cindy let out a long, drawn-out sigh, as though she were explaining something complex to a toddler. “Because that’s the game,” she said. “Haven’t you realised that yet?” She stared blankly at her fellow hunter before throwing her arms down. “No. Of course not. I guess you’re just that stubborn.” Her voice held genuine irritation. “You just participated in a game where you killed people just to survive. Get real.”

“Our lives are not a game,” said Samus. “Just because we can’t die doesn’t make this not real. You misunderstood that when you came here. When you hit me, you hit me. And I still haven’t forgiven you for that betrayal. I won’t.”

Cindy looked pissed. “Just let it go. I don’t have the egg anymore.”

“I don’t want the egg. I want you, and everyone else like you, behind bars like you deserve.” Or in the Underverse.

Cindy turned and stormed out.

Samus rose up. There was one more person she hadn’t forgiven. Someone who had done far worse than Cindy. The offences just kept racking up. She had her job cut out for her.

But it was her job.

The armour materialised around Samus.

[Karl Jak]

The medical facility teleporters whirl down. With the remaining primes in the boardroom, the teleporter located over there remains active. The crew of Syntex employees breath out sighs of relief as they start to package up the supplies and equipment in the medical labs.