(Preshow) Preshow Facility

[Dane Regan]

The Library

Someone's looking at us.
So? People look at us all the time.
We should talk to them, this book isn't very interesting, and at least half of it is probably complete BS.
But they're already talking to other people and I'll feel awkward internally if we just butt in. 
Wimp.
And what would we even talk about? Anyway, I'm pretty sure people have only been looking at us in the same way they'd look at the rest of the room. If we say nothing we'll seem all cool and mysterious or something.
Or we'll just look really boring.
Not saying anything would only work if we had a renown built up for ourselves. We're just some new guy as it is. No one expects the new guy to be strong or win anything.
That was why we entered: we've got nothing to lose besides our time.
Let's just get a new book.

Standing up, and noticing the few glances, Dane walked to the bookshelf placing the technical book back into the appropriate slot, then leant back, scanning for something interesting.

[Simon]

Tony sat patiently as the two fellow fighters rather suddenly divulged summaries of their stories. It seemed to the red-coat that Jak had taken the summoning of Kalina Ann as a message to stop beating around the bush. Either that was the case, or Mar had developed psychic powers without anyone knowing before now. It... might explain a bit.

In due time, everyone in the group shared their names, making the three of them well-acquainted so far. Tony acknowledged that an event like this justified some form of alliance, considering the competitive nature hinted in this battle game. Then again, the devil hunter couldn't be sure of just what kind of competition this Dante's Abyss would have. A tournament like in the Colosseum, or a belated treasure hunt like Teucer's quest? Planning ahead wouldn't help much if he didn't know exactly what he was getting into.

"Jak, Graowr," Tony began, fumbling over the Time Patroller's name as it rolled around his tongue, "I don't suppose you know what kind of competition this Dante's Abyss is?" The alien perked up for a moment, but deflated a bit when she considered that she didn't actually know any details- the only certainty in her mind was that strong people would be fighting each other.

Jak Mar, the Dynamite Kid, quickly picked up the slack, being a veteran of the event himself. "Well," he began, searching for the right explanation, "The last time I participated was a couple years back. At the time, it was basically a death battle on an island. Everyone was either killing each other or teaming up, and the whole event was really brutal." Graowr listened intently as usual, her interest very expressive, while Tony drew his own comparisons and conclusions. Sighing over the painful, bloody memories of his first Abyss, the prince continued, "But like I said, it was a while back. I don't know if the event might've changed this year."

The dark knight shrugged, appreciate of the insight nonetheless. "At least we have a good idea of what to expect- and from a seasoned veteran, at that," Tony complimented the Eco warrior. The blue alien's eyes lit up towards Jak at the implication.

"Oh, please," Jak dismissed the excessive praise, "I didn't even come close to winning, last time."

"All the more reason to stick together," the redcoat insisted, pulling out his Dataverse device. Swiping away from his e-mail, he looked for the communicator application that had come with the tool. "You know if we can bring these things on the island?"

Mar bore a pensive look on his face at that. "We couldn't bring anything, last time I participated."

"Well, just in case-" Tony double-checked that his long-term ally had a contact on the phone. "Let's see if we can't all keep in touch, eh?"

[Corporal Light]

Teleporter ---> Hallway

His vision returned with the flash of red light in his eyes. His head was swimming, the air sucked out of his lungs along with what felt like the majority of most of his lunch and his internal organs. The urge to vomit was overwhelming, and he would have done so right then and there if he wasn’t more focused on the throbbing inside his head. He leaned forward, groaning in pain. He didn’t remember the Coruscant portal being THAT turbulent and diarrhea inducing. Hell, he remembered it being almost like swerving around in space with a thruster: floaty, free, and not so out of control that you just end up spinning all over the place until you grow so dizzy you want to die.

Eventually, he recovered enough to consider walking as a viable option. He looked around his new area only to find that he was just in a simple hallway. There were several junctions that obviously lead to several locations, but other than that, it was the simplest, probably the blandest hallway he had ever walked through, and he had been on the Ishimura. A dull, stone grey coloring of the walls with few decoration aside from the yellow carpet on the floor, it was like walking through an abandoned castle that had been left to rot decades ago and everyone who had once been in it had taken away everything that could have made it glamorous or interesting.

He quickly deduced that it was most likely the time limit. Roger Arthington HAD told him that he was lucky to even be able to sign-up just due to how soon the event was going to take place. The Syntech people were probably cleaning house already, considering they had more or less gotten everyone who was going to register registered.

That’s why he felt kinda bad having to walk over their nice yellow carpet while covered in blood. As he moved on it, he left a long, long trail of bloody droplets and footprints as the blood covering his RIG practically melted all over it. He hoped that whoever was cleaning the place up got paid very well, because he suspected they were going to be working overtime with the amount of blood stains he was leaving everywhere.

That was when it occurred to him. The place was a pre-show facility, so therefore it would have accommodations for its contestants. That most likely meant that there were showers of some kind that could remove the blood all over his armor. At the very least, doing that would prevent him from tracking footprints everywhere, if not stop accidentally scaring people by looking like a fucking boogeyman.

He chose a random corridor to face and followed it. Hopefully, he’d run into someone whom knew the layout of the place better than him.

Hallway → Library.

Well that failed in the most spectacular fashion possible.

He had run into a few syntech employees who were chatting right outside of the library and facing directly away from him. He probably should have realized that walking up behind one of them and asking them for directions while being quiet or otherwise revealing his presence was not the smartest thing to do. All of them more or less collectively shat their pants and excused themselves from the area upon noticing the state of his RIG.

Clarke sighed. This is not going to be an easy thing to accomplish, is it?

He turned towards the entrance to the library, peeking his head inside just enough to avoid anyone detecting him outright. Shelves of books of various genres lined the walls. There was a distinct “book” smell in the air, one of ink and dust. Holographic computers stood on tables directly in the middle of the room, with a sign reading “Dataverse Devices” hanging up above them. Candles and lanterns strewn around the corners and ceiling provided adequate, cozy light to the room to provide an atmosphere perfect for reading. A few people were already inside, most whispering each other to preserve the quiet or picking out a book to read. One, in particular, looked like someone straight out of a medieval, high fantasy setting with his leather armor, unkempt, long blond hair, and sword carefully tucked within his holster.

He must be one of the contestants, Isaac thought.

It was his only chance, really. The medieval man was probably the only person who wouldn’t go running in the other direction upon seeing a blood-covered space engineer come romping towards him.

He slid into the library, his words evading him for the moment as he walked toward the man. Once he was close enough, he spoke to him.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to stay quiet. This WAS a library, after all. “You know where I can find a place to clean my armor? It’s covered in blood and I don’t want to leave stains everywhere I go.”

[The Future Warrior]

Oooh. This was shaping up to be pretty interesting. Jak was a veteran of this Dante's Abyss thing. He hadn't done so well, apparently, but given how brutal it sounded that probably wasn't a surprised. With how it was looking, it really did seem like teaming up and sticking together would be for the best. Have someone to watch your back, while you were watching your front. It was a good idea. In theory.

"Oh, yeah, sticking together sounds like a good idea!" She agreed cheerfully. As mister redcoat Redgrave brought out his phone. "Oh, couldn't bring things last time? That sounds lame," Graowr voiced with a pout. But at the subject of keeping in touch, she could only nod in agreement. "Yeah! We gotta make sure we can get in touch, in case we get separated or something." She lifted a hand to tap at the buttons on her scouter. "Just a second, here..." she muttered, pushing all the dataverse nonsense to one side and pulling up the communicator function.

She was still trying to get the hang of this thing. Her communicator had just sort of...worked on its own, back home. But she managed it well enough. Working slowly through it, she got the contact info for her two new teammates logged down and stored away where she could access it at need. "Okay! Think I got it!"

[Oleander]

It was the sudden burst of motion that stirred Takezo from what he would call a lazy mood. His first reaction was a look of surprise as Dust reveals to be tall as a mountain. The second reaction was to follow. He dropped his chopsticks onto his plate and leaped clean out of his seat. A hand rested upon the grip of his katana.

Bar to Hallway

The moment they burst out of the door, into the hallway, Takezo finally feels it. The sensation that he had missed before washed over him with proximity and lifted every little hair on the back of his neck. He had not felt such a sensation in a long time. Even when his father took his sword onto Takezo, he did not feel fear. This... was refreshing.

The swordsman could not help it. His lips curled into a smile - that smile grew to a grin. The Prime laughed. It was not harsh, like before, it was as jubilant as a child on Christmas. The hand upon his sword tightened, and the tension in his arm screamed his urge to unleash it. The Swordsman itched to cut down a man that could command such fear in those around him.

Takezo may have missed the introduction of Gildart's name, but that fat Secondary had given him the name of the strongest prime. If this was not the strongest, then he could not fathom what would be. As Abyss scrambled away, Takezo steps forward, his eyes capturing the man's apperance, his nose the man's smell. He wanted to challenge him, no doubt, before or after the climax of this game.

He was enraptured by the idea of forced fear. Now THIS was sorcery of the best kind! He wondered what Abyss' face had been like under the effect of such a presence? The fear she had shown when he simply glared at her had been absolute, but this...

Gildarts. Takezo glared with an expression of eager anticipation. He still laughed. To Dust, the behemoth of a man beside him, he spoke; "I've never been terrified before. The sensation is absolutely invigorating. I almost want to draw my sword now..." He took a deep breath through his nose and it was clear the urge was strong. This man loved to fight, and even though slaying Abyss would have been fun, the idea of a challenge against Gildarts was far more exciting.

Takezo could die. Hell, he was very likely to die. But that did not make it any less of a goal. Here, from what he understood, he was immortal. Gildarts was immortal. He could hunt this man if he felt like it. Or he might even be able to train with this man.

For now though, Takezo turned away. "Come, Dust. We should prepare ourselves for the hunt. We three voices should concoct a plan before time is up."

[Dane Regan]

In the Library, response to Isaac.

Dane pivoted around smoothly. He heard the guy approaching, so he wasn't surprised - even if he didn't think conversation was likely, his active mind had prompted him to prepare for it.

Dane blinked. That was a lot of blood. Still, he'd seen, done, and experienced worse. And with its many useful chemical properties with regards to magic, he sensed more may be to come in his future.

"You could try the Dojo, the fighting area might have something to help, albeit unlikely. Although, I think your best bet might actually be the Bar." Dane clicked his fingers, pointing down the hallway. The clicks bounced off the walls, echoing in the direction of said room. "They've probably got cleaning supplies, especially round back, even if it's more for food than... erm."

Dane laughed lightly. "How'd you manage to get that messed up anyway? It reminds me of that time I accidentally converted alcohol and into blood just before an earthquake."

Laughing might have been inappropriate. But the more inappropriate it was, the funnier it became - at least in Dane's mind. Whoever this guy was, he looked so serious and out of place. That combined with him making a conscious effort to stay quiet and avoid causing further mess just cracked Dane up.

[Dawnika Snow]

Dawn was just about to continue speaking when Dust exploded from his seat. It was only now that she had realized just how tall the man was. Before she had a chance to even ask what was going on with him or why he had just emerged from his seat the way he did without warning, a wave of telekinetic(Or something akin) energy washed over her. Her nerves shot and she broke into a cold sweat nigh instantly. What was this power? It had made her feel unsafe, but for no good reason. Fear was a feeling scarce few assassins knew.

"What the hell is this?" She muttered to herself as her new companion charged off into the hallway. Without the resilience to resist whatever power this was, she found herself having trouble getting out of her seat and into the hallway. When she finally did, the source was clear: Another prime. A Prime who's able to make people fear him forcefully. Imagine the power he must have had to summon such an effect? Dawn knew right away just how serious this event would be now. She looked up at Dust, who towered over her, mind you, and offered some good advice. "Let's try not to take that one on alone, or really at all, until we have to."

After a few more seconds, the affect of Gildarts' fear had worn off and the assassin could breath a little more correctly again. She took a deep breath. The competition was getting stiffer than she had anticipated, it was troublesome, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to lop the man's head off if she needed to.

Shinmen had suggested they formulate their plan. It was a good idea as any right now, though, Dawn got the feeling that it was almost time for the event to start, even though Primes were still arriving through the gate.

"If we are to strategize, I imagine we should get to it posthaste. I don't think we have much time until we are thrown into the fray." She explained, gesturing Shinmen and Dust to lead the way.

[Gildarts]

 Mouth of the Hallway

The tactic of getting the squid creature to retreat out of fear, rather than force, specifically from the rivaled Illidan, had worked splendidly. Gildarts just hoped that Illidan didn’t pick up on the fact that he used that specific move which was very “hands off” for a reason. He had done it to protect the thing, hey, he wasn’t a bad guy after all, though it was likely not to forget Gildarts any time soon. The OP prime was just looking out for his own interests and didn’t want to see premature and senseless harm done to the squid, it had interrupted, but that didn’t merit a backslap, which is what Gildarts sensed was soon to occur if he hadn’t stepped up to the plate. Illidan was a pretty formidable foe. It was hard to calculate the darkest of thoughts that were forged by his mind, harder still for Gildarts to know which parts of the shadows he would act on.
 
Illidan tilted his head, as though impressed, Gildarts hadn’t even raised a hand, barely shown a fraction of his magical power and the creature had fallen to its sniveling knees. His magic, though it was the color of light, was far from good. That there, was something the two magic-wielders had in common. It seemed the human was quite popular. He’d attracted quite the attention from a few other primes, one, Dust, had lingered with his eyes near, the other had initially announced itself as Tearen and later returned as Nealaphh, it wanted a word with the Prime and despite its amicable form was far from human by Illidan's sense, the dark elf had barely to exercise his power to uncover that it wasn’t a normal human like the rest of the cockroaches crawling around the room.
 
As luck would have it, Gildarts was much more responsive when he heard the vague shout of his name, and then again, when he heard it was from the semblance of a being that claimed to be another which he had a knowledge and encounter of. The Strongest Prime blinked as the blurred memories came to mind, but nothing quite specific yet, Gildarts was a visual kind of guy.
 
Illidan seemed to permit Gildarts from leaving unscathed, only because the standoff was announced over the second the little creature had rightfully scurried away on its knees. Triumph and victory were cause for mutual liberation.
 
Gildarts took a couple paces with the god-mind and waited curiously for an explanation, “Hm, you don’t look like him?” the mage was dialing himself back down, going through the necessary steps to realign his mind with the right locks and keys, to keep the maddening power in… Perhaps some of the keys didn’t fit in the locks any longer, Tearen’s suspicion continued to grow that something was off about the mage and it was more than the usual antics of the prime's vaulted mind.
 
Tearen projected the image of the three glowing green eyes, the plural side caused the odd one to stain the man’s charcoal cheek, the spectacular coruscating emerald light leached into Gildarts’ unstable mind and allowed for the image to seep in. The wizard blinked, he’d seen it before, of course he’d recognized it, no matter how forgetful or how many memories he’d kept under lock and key, this one was more important and had been reinforced twice. Ol’ three eyes was back again and Gildarts resurrected the memories with more effort than it would’ve taken to resurrect the dead.
 
It was the three-eyed demon he’d fought in the land of sand, as well as the one whom he had helped try to slay the dragon, his first legion had failed, but Nealaphh’s second strike had been able to pull it off. Dragons, such a bitter thought… It was no more. Ah yes, and in the strange blackhole they’d been sucked into, that was something of a bitter failure too. He’d had too long of a losing streak and the consequence was beginning to weigh on him. He felt the metallic burden of his inorganic arm heavier than normal. Suddenly, the solid ground beneath the wizard split, as though from dense gravity weighing on it.
 
It appeared that his magic was fluctuating, the wizard’s feet condensed the ground beneath him and Tearen braced himself for a suspected battle, it could’ve been that the mage wanted a rematch here and now… The god-mind was intrigued but hesitant, it took a singular step back, while the calculations filed into his mind about how he would stop the oncoming threat, if it became out of control. His theory had been proven correct, Gildarts was on the ropes. Sanity steadily slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass. Perhaps it was the man's eventual fate, as each grain of sand took its course into the vortex of no return. Sand ground to dust by his very magic.
 
The wizard would be a threat that the god-mind would eventually need to take out, but for now, he would continue observing, collecting data in the processor of his powerful engine of a mind. It seemed, however, that Gildarts wasn’t even aware of the release of magic, or, that he was playing off as though he still had control. Nealaphh looked closer at the man he may eventually have to purge, perhaps he’d be more fearful than Diablo if his power was allowed to grow to its complete limits, however, Diablo currently was more of a threat than this already-defeated insanity case. Today the god-mind was here to make friends. Or so it was meant to be presumed.
 
“So… You remember?” Tearen said, a hint of mocking challenge in his voice, or perhaps that was just another layer of Gil's hallucinations. The god-mind’s eyes fell back to Gildarts’ feet, the cracks in the ground hadn’t grown, “We both know Guu and we rallied together to fight against that dragon…?”
 
He’s inside your head… Better batten down the hatches. A female voice crept in, Tearen’s eyes widened, shock clattered into his god-mind, for the mind before him was still Gildarts, so whose voice...? Want me to show him out? she spoke with layers upon layers of seduction, it was rasping as the chords of an inanimate voice strung together like the music of a violin.
 
Cut to the chase, Gildarts thought sternly, attempting to dampen the female. Nealaphh couldn’t find the source of her though, nor a residing power, only a residual echo, like a long-forgotten phantom. Gildarts had last time brought an… Essence to the battle in Ashen, united to slay their common goal. Nealaphh had done some research on what it could have been but had never gotten the chance to ask.
 
Now was better a time than before. Oh? And just who is this I’m speaking to? It certainly couldn’t be the Malefactor, parasite to the prime’s mind, it felt like she had been exterminated or exorcised like the devil it was. Apparently, something had gone wrong in the ceremony, a misspoken word, a missed wire that was meant to be snipped. An error. No surprise, considering how distracted this specific prime tended to get.
 
Why hello, pleasure to meet you.. and you are? Tearen yes? It said defiantly, Gildarts felt sick to his stomach. She wasn’t supposed to be here, it had to be a hallucination, some sort of withdrawal effect, the curse was still in place, even though she’d been removed. How could this be? The longer he had allowed her a home in his mind, the stronger grip she’d have upon him. Are you making friends, Gildarts?
 
“Actually, that’s rather on topic, I think it would be in our best interests if we steered clear of each other, we are friends, after all.” And indeed, what a tangled, complicated friendship this was. The god-mind continued, his form, human now, was rather strange for Gildarts to juggle, lots of change, much to keep track of for a man with so many distractions. “I like your friends, and you might like mine.”
 
Crunch! The ground before him struggled under the dense gravity that had been released, Gildarts looked less than phased by the exceptional release of his power and Tearen nonchalantly continued his fierce, fearless gaze.
 
Gildarts' power unfolded as though ticking down to an eventual detonation, Tearen observed, he only had to wait for the Prime’s agreement, then, he could be onto other, more productive things.
 
“It’s not in there, is it?” Tearen presumed about the Malefactor.
 
“Nope,” Gildarts confirmed sternly. His guard was up, his words censored, his mind remained cautious as though a form of armor had been deployed, probably why his magic had gotten a little out of hand, or rather, underfoot.
 
Hmm, I’m right here Gildarts? Don’t you hear my voice? See, look at this one, what’d he say his name was? He looks like a good potential suitor for me, mind if we exchange numbers? the female laughed abrasively in Gil’s mind.
 
Gildarts thought everything through. The Malefactor was back? Nealaphh… Who was also Tearen wanted to make an exception with him? Likely monopolize the participants and breed battle until his forces were the only survivors. There was power in war, even small ones like this that were waged. So, is Diablo really back? Miss Mal asked, it seemed someone other than Gildarts had been paying attention, he’d heard it on a subconscious level and his mind had passively dismissed it, but now Neal's words had returned and the wizard recalled Tearen had been the one to make this announcement.
 
The red-haired man wasn’t sure how two people could become one, but it had happened before, some people changed names to escape their past, others created masked secret identities in order to be heroes or villains. So just which of the two was he looking at now?
 
He was never gone, miss. Tearen responded telepathically. We may need to rally the forces again, for old times sake. I’m keeping tabs on the situation.
 
Unite the masses with a common fear, rally the forces to win. It was a game, Nealaphh could do as he pleased. It was no consequence to him, though the god-mind had requested if not his allegiance, then his inaction. Gildarts hadn’t confirmed nor denied it. Gildarts wasn’t here to play as the others were.
 
“Always keeping your eyes on the prize?” Gildarts offered a half-smile to his ambitious… Person (?). He kept his words intentionally undefined.
 
So, how are you still in there if you were so forcefully removed? It wasn’t unlike Tearen to pry. He proposed this question to the Malefactor’s whisper of a voice.
 
Who, me? Hehe, look at all this attention, the kind you never give me, Gildarts. Maybe I’ll swap hosts after all. Well Tearen, to answer your question, I was forcefully removed after Gildarts trapped me in his poisonous prison of a mind, you should see that thing! It’s a bunch of doors that lead to no-where! And-
 
The female’s voice was revealing too much. Weaknesses of his that should not be tampered with. Shadows that should never see the light. Gildarts released a low growl of warning.
 
Hah, look, he thinks he can control me. I’m not even here Gil, I’m just a figment… I come and go as I please and in the form of an unstoppable curse, I have much more power now than I ever did before. I’m a danger and there’s nothing either you, or this finely suited gentleman can do about it. As stunning as he is, I don’t serve him. Though, someday I might be tempted to. the woman’s voice finalized, her low-tone very threatening and conclusive. Gildarts let his lips form into a frown.
 
“Sounds like you’ve got quite the pest problem in there,” Tearen held back a smirk. “I can try to help out with that, maybe after? Now is not the time or place for an extermination. But it might be feasible given my particular set of skill, for an extraction to be made. Time's ticking.”
 
There it was. The proposition. Culminated by clever thought and a conniving wit. The mage felt his mood dampen because he was helpless to save himself, he could only keep the illusion of control for so long. Between he and Nealaphh, it was now agree, or sayonara and good luck in the future! Plus, whatever this Diablo creature was didn’t sound very friendly. Gildarts preferred to build bridges than to burn them. Even if it meant uniting with someone he had a complicated past with.
 
“See you in the first round? Or rather...” Tearen prodded again letting his voice fall into an uncompleted trail. Gildarts looked to the side and woefully nodded. The God-mind smirked, feeling the fresh rush of victory surge through his form. He strut off, the heels of his finely polished shoes clacking against the scraps of rubble the wizard had created with his magic before Tearen had been eaten by the crowd once more.
 
How are you still here in my head? I had you removed, then you go and tell him I haven’t got a grip on reality? Gods… Gil was just a little frustrated, It was you then, who made the room covered in blood and full of people who appeared to be dead?
 
Oh how flattering, you know me soooo well. Gosh, a gal has to make big strokes like that to get your attention, look, it’s amazing I’m in two places at once, haunting your girlfriend and you! Remember how she has telepathy or whatever? Yeah, I’ll give her some nightmares tonight, maybe even prey on her worst fears. Make them seem so real that she will be forever miserable in her mortal life. The Malefactor cackled.
 
You witch… Gildarts snarled.
 
Hah! This is proof I can still push your buttons, you were always so protective of the innocent, not to mention, your family. Too bad they are all dead. Dead! I’ll show you how the rest of Fairy Tail died when you weren’t around to save them, pretty sure I can speculate pretty well. So, unless you want me to do naughty things to your girlfriend, I suggest you get on your knees. The Malefactor was savoring every second of her haunt.
 
Gildarts of course, would refuse, there was no evidence to show the Malefactor was out of her cage and free, nor that it would have the ability to go after the princess through the metal walls of the vault. However, she’d created that fear and doubt. And that was enough.
 
…
 
The Prime looked down after feeling a strange itch tingle his steel arm only to see that he had two hands again. A momentary double-take had him guessing about the deception of the bitter image his own eyes had woven. Two large hands both covered in flesh and real olive-toned skin. His hands. It was less believable than the room of death he thought himself to see a few moments prior. But this… This was unreal and completely unbelievable. Another hallucination, surely.
 
Just what was happening to him? How could this be? And really, was it even real? He wiggled his fingers on both hands and they danced before he solidified them into a pair of dense fists. His knuckles were white with tightness and he felt with both hands again for the first time for years. He then felt his mind grow slack with horror when he heard her voice again in the once place it shouldn’t be: His mind.
 
Tearen had treated her as very real, but it wasn't possible. One of the god-mind's tricks, surely. This had to have been from a lack of sleep, or simply just too much travel beating on his body. Little did the Prime know, he had a lot to learn about items of this world, their abilities, and the myriad of effects they could have on Primes once they were removed. Like a drug, they could curse, cause hallucinations and withdrawals, as well as do things he had never allowed her to do when she was inhabiting him. Now more than ever she had a most startling power over him, one he could not prepare for. The unknown.
 
The parasite didn’t have that power over him, and never would unless he granted it to her… Right? The thin thread of doubt squeaked in his mind and the wizard feared the images behind his eyes becoming real and was realizing that the Malefactor’s curse was unending on its host. Hallucination or reality, it was hard to tell the difference when all the Malefactor had ever been to him was a voice in his mind. What if it never had spoken in the first place and he’d only ever imagined it. The idea was daunting and he couldn’t prove it wrong, only that Guu had once or twice heard it too. Nealaphh had played along, for his own virtue, likely. Imagination was a powerful thing though and voices were easily imitated.
 
Before Gildarts, his two hands of flesh loitered. Both pulsing with blood at the acceleration his heart had pumped with new vigor. He tried to blink the image of his hands away but it wouldn’t stick, same with the idea that he had ever been free of her in the first place.
 
The Malefactor’s voice seemed to smile as she said with a seductive rasping, Gildarts… Great and powerful Prime. You cannot be done with me that easily. I'm not a book you can merely close if you don't want to remember the last chapter. I’m still here with you… The female’s tongue clicked in her hollow mouth as though she were knocking at his mind’s door, Clock! Clock!
 
Gildarts blinked, a helpless witness to the assault on his own mind. It was sickening and his stomach swayed with nausea like he was lost at sea.
 
I know you and Tearen heard me before, there's no forgetting it, even for a man as forgetful as you. Now, onto more important matters… What if I told you… I could bring back your lost arm and leg?
 

[Oleander]

Takezo's gaze flick across the various doorways before finding one leading to personal rest areas. He guided his companions here and picked an empty room to formulate their plan. He held the door for Dawn and Dust, the entered and shut it behind him.

"Permit me to make a quick suggestion; time is not in our favor for a great amount of deliberation." He glanced between the two. The little bit of bonding experience in the bar earned him at least enough respect to be heard first, since he was not directly claiming leadership. It was, as he had said, only a suggestion.

The swordsman turned his gaze onto Dawn. "You should obviously stay at a distance with your musket," a term that reveals more of his age than he intended. "If you can get to a higher ground, I highly suggest it. Trees, rooftops, et cetera." Dawn agreed to this, though less so to her weapon being called a musket. She decided not to take offense, seeing as she would show it off as much more deadly than what this man might even be capable of fathoming.

"Dust, you and I will be the line of defense. We should try to concentrate our focus on one at a time, if at all possible. Whittling down a foe's forces is what a pack does; otherwise we are merely fighting one-on-one in close proximity." His words were spoken like a tactician. It was a bit surprising that this man who spoke with such thirst for blood had the calmness of mind to plan.

"Another thing... Take out the long-ranged fighters first... Miss Yuki, this means that while Dust and I focus on one, you should pick your targets more wisely." His eyes lingered on the woman. "You are the furthest from melee, so you will have the most freedom to do so."

Takezo's gaze then fell on Dust. "Dust, if we are able to, I suggest we pick one target to focus our attacks on. If there are multiple." Takezo's lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Defend against them. Try to out maneuver, so they hit who we are focusing on. Let them do our work for us."

"And if we come to that walking squid, do not focus on her first. With the way she carries herself, I can tell she will be the one to lash wildly in a fight. The golden-robed and ink-yokai will be more of a threat, if they do not betray one another first." All could agree that the three did not seem to share the "honorable" oath that Dust, Dawn and Takezo had come to agree upon.

"Does anyone have any alternative plans, or alterations to mine?" It was simple, but he believed well spoken. With three people of unknown skills versus an unknown adversary, it was about the best he could do on such short notice.

[Handsome Jack]

Central Hallway (IIRC, there IS no Teleporter Room. Comon, guys! Read that shit!)

My reptilian eyes survey the area in which I've found myself in abject horr-

God, that's tedious! You know what? I look around and nearly piss myself because FUCK there's a lot of people here. It ain't even that big an area, but for SOME damn reason, people keep passing through or just bullshitting. Like myself, plenty are pouring out of magical holes in time-space too. And they all look like fucking talkers. Rather than get stuck proclaiming the virtues of...

I look at the advertisment indicator tattoo on my wrist.

The virtues of Senor Cactilido's Tequila (It'll getcha DRUNK!), I'd better go ahead and skedaddle out of here. I scan for the quickest, safest way out. While I do so, I take in the atmosphere and... well, it's a hallway. Buncha circular portal pads set evenly along it and a general curve to the whole thing that probably means it's just a big-ass circle.

Closest door says “Bar” and I give it the middle-finger. Nope. Sorry, pal, I ain't opening THAT can of worms and getting sucked into talking to a bunch of drunk folk (and not drunk in the good way). Fortunately, not too far from that door is another proclaiming itself to be the entrance to the Barracks. I remember the blonde bitch saying something about having a private room, so I head my happy-ass off that way.

[Handsome Jack]

Barracks

Well, this looks familiar. Basically I just walked into a smaller version of the main hallway, minus all those pads. And with more doors, each with a contestant name over it. Just a big ass circular hallway. I'm beginning to think Karl might have a thing for round things.

There's a few folks milling around here, but definitely not the clusterfuck going on in the main area. Still, I better make a beeline for my room and wait shit out until things start. I don't see it in my immediate view, so I pick a direction and start walking. Gotta say though, I ain't really looking forward to sitting in an empty room for however long it takes til this thing starts. Sounds boring as fuck. Don't help matters that I'm hungry too. Maybe I should bring along a “snack”...

Fuck. Nevermind. Ol' Biddy told me that attacking people before I get on the island is a no-no. And while I normally wouldn't have a single fuck to give about the rules, if I fuck this up Pops definitely ain't gonna take these tats off me. Still... that gives me an idea. Basically, anytime someone talks to me, I gotta give em a spiel about the advertisements on my chest. And back... And it might be easier to just say there they aren't. Which is basically just my head.. I'm more ad than... well, not human. Humanoid? Thoughts for another time; back to the plan. I get some clothes on me (which is already striking me as fucking weird, but whatever) and that way I don't gotta worry about people asking me about them. Not a perfect fix, but I'm basically grasping at straws here. I'd heard that parents embarrass their kids, but this seems a little like overkill.

I look around for a patsy while I walk. Aaaaaaaaaaand BINGO! Found one. Aside from being on the tall side, the dude was the poster-boy for average and forgettable. White. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Guy's so plain he probably cosplays Protoman and helps run a roleplaying website. What a goddamn nerd. As I approach him, the Syntech employee opens his mouth to speak, probably to ask what he can help me with.. My tail whips around, a flash of green motion, and the tip rests upon his lips before he can utter a single word.

“Shhh... Don't ssay anything... Jusst...”

I eye him up and down, licking my beak-like lips. The guy has some kinda business-casual get up on. Khakis. White sneakers. Purple dress shirt and grey blazer. Kinda tacky if you ask me, but fuck it.

“Turn around.”

The tell-tale glimmer of actual fear shines in Joe's (Get it? Because he's average!) eyes but he does what I tell him. I bite my lip and I survey his rear and nod to myself.

“Yeah... that lookss good.”

Joe looks over his shoulder at me and I grin, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Now sstrip.”

A few minutes of sobbing later, and I got me a set of clothes and a broken man at my feet. I pull the khakis on over my legs and scowl at how much of my lower legs are exposed (and at the hole my tail tears through the back), but I guess beggars can't be choosers. Still, kinda shitty how I look like a kid who outgrew his clothes four years ago. Whatever. It's fine. As long as it covers up these tattoos. But, as I struggle to don the too-small blazer...

*BZZZZZRT!!*

I throw the garment away as an electrical shock rocks my body the moment the clothing touches one of the tattoos.

“Are you *beep*ing me? I can't even cover them up? *BEEP* me!”

Wait...

“I can't even *beep*ing curse now? What the *beep*! How iss thiss even *beep*ing happening!?*BEEP*!!! I swear to *beep*ing god, when I get these *beep*ing tattoos off me, first *beep*ing thing I'm *beep*ing doing is *beep*ing Popss in the *beep* while he *beep*ing watches me! I'm gonna tear out hiss *beep*ing intestiness and *beep*ing feed them to him! I'm-”

“That's not very nice, son,” I hear from my chest tattoo. “With that kind of attitude, I'm not feeling very inclined to remove those advertisements. At all.”

My heart sinks into my feet. Fuck. He can hear me? I gotta... salvage this somehow. But first.

“Look Popss. One: I wass jusst kidding. Obvioussly. I would never hurt you. You know I love you.”

Gero “hrmms” me through the connection. Sure am glad he left me with Computer Mom, cuz the guy is a dick. I continue.

“Two: why can't I cursse anymore? I ssaid *beep* jusst fine before I got here.”

“Well... son, the investors heard that too. Told me that it'd be hard for you to promote their products with such a potty mouth. So, consider THIS to be censorship. Course, now that I told you about it...”

The man chuckles over the line.

“Next time you'll get shocked too.”

Fuck me. Fuck Gero. Fuck this naked dude who is STILL HERE FOR SOME REASON!!!

“Fine...” I sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Three: Are you REALLY gonna be sspying on me? Cuz, I gotta ssay, that'ss not cool, Popss. A boy on the cussp of manhood needss hiss privaccy, you feel me?”

*BZZZZRT!!*

“You feel that?”

“Uh huh...” I answers as I literally and figuratively steam over the situation.

“Good. Now, go be a good boy and test my experiment. That's my boy. Gero: Out.”

After a few seconds, I mutter to myself. “More like 'Gero: out of the closset...”

*BZZZZRT!!*

[Cirno]

As cirno opened her eyes she heard someone talking about there being one hour left till Dante's Abyss started. "Clownpiece time to get up. Dante's abyss starts in a hour and we should be wide awake for that." Cirno rubbed her eyes in exhaustion as she waited for Clownpiece to get up from the itchy grass but she waved Cirno off and said something to similar to "Five more minutes."

Cirno sighed as she walked over to clownpiece and said once again. "Time to get up do you want to be cold before the abyss starts?" She said it with a mischievous sound to her voice.

"You . . . you wouldn't dare." Clownpiece started to go back to sleep but this time Cirno put her cold dead hands on her neck causing her to get up with a high pitched squeal. "Yes Clownpiece. Yes I would wake you up with my cold ability's."

"So mean. I guess . . ." she yawned in-between speaking. "That you . . . are a good alarm clock?" She sounded drowsy and inattentive even with the wake up call, there was also a slight sound of anger in her voice.

"Clownpiece im heading off to read if there is a library here. Just . . . don't miss the time we have to leave."

Cirno got up and stretched for a bit before walking towards the library to read a good book for the time that was left here. She picked out a novel that the cover said Zun the creator of Omnihou presents Omnihou's history and characters. She opened the book and started to read it.

She after reading a few chapters of the book closed it in a huff. Not only was it saying that her home was a game but that she was the weakest Character around. Both of witch are clearly not true. "If I find this writer I will make sure he will not see another day. Best selling author humph. not even Reimu can even write a good book and this piece of trash is a 'best seller'?"

She put the book away and pulled out another book this one a actual history of the Omnivese and started to read it in hopes she could learn more about this home of hers. Its leather binding was well worn and it seemed old. She walked over to her chair and sat down and started to read.

Chapter one. First steps.) Omni is the first Prime/God of this world. This is the most widely accepted theory on Omni. According to Prime witnesses on there seeing Omni. It seems Omni has the same ability's as primes just that he contains more of the substance the primes and Omni call Omnilium. In the same theory it says that he created the nexus first then a home for him to live and watch over his creation.

The center object has been sighted to change at almost random times. Thus signaling the ever changing tides of primes. Some good and some bad. While the actual age of this world is unknown the first primes that arrived were speculated to be . . . The rest of the book was ruined after that by someone who dumped ink all over the book.

[Corporal Light]

In response to mister Dane.

Well, at least he was correct about the guy not seeming to mind him being covered in blood. Hell, he seemed more intrigued than scared or perplexed, which raised numerous amounts of questions about the man that Isaac had no intention of asking.

He turned his head in the direction the man was pointing toward. The place had a dojo AND a bar? That was a first, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Fighters were stereotypical enough to like both of those things. He wondered why there weren’t any signs leading to those areas. That would have been preferable than to risk a confrontation because he made some other dude piss his pants in the library.

Nevertheless, the man not only took his appearance in stride, he took it in jest as well. He couldn’t help but laugh along with the medieval guy. As he laughed, he decided not to tell the truth, as it was rather ridiculous in and of itself, and instead chose another option instead.

“I ran into a demonic blood orgy on the way over here. I’m telling you, they couldn’t stop for nothing.”

He was barely able to stop himself from rolling all over the floor and laughing as he spoke.

[Enel]

Lobby

While I wait, I try to figure out how the fuck my new ‘Dataverse Device’ works. I read on the Dataverse that you could summon tiny portable versions, and so I turned my computer into this little thing. It’s basically a black glass square with a fold-out ‘keypad’, which is a miniature version of the input device they had in Carrefore. Just in case I don’t feel like talking.

I also had to make it immune to my powers. These things all run on electricity, which makes sense. Mine is the purest, most versatile source of power. Other lands have based their technologies off of my power, and they don’t even realise I was the origin of it! How utterly distasteful.

Honestly, before now, I’d been content to rule Skypiea. But this whole experience has awakened me to many other lands. Perhaps this was destiny. And now that I know that so many other lands exist, filled with strange people’s and technologies, I have to ask myself this:

Why aren’t they worshipping me?

It’s a rhetorical question. And I intend to answer it.

Locations within the Dataverse are known as ‘websites’. I’m given to understand the Dataverse, and the ‘Internet’ upon which it is based, are built upon actual webs, which connect them all together and allow for instantaneous communication. Basically like the Den Den Mushi network, except with spiders instead of snails.

There’s one website in particular where people gather to make proclamations. It’s the hub, of sorts, and it’s called – for I don’t know what fucking reason – ‘OmniTwitter’. I have to register an account, but finally I can communicate to the world.

I make myself known. Soon, all will know the name God Enel.