06-06-2018, 12:15 AM
Nausea washed over Handsome Jack as he stepped from the fading light of the teleporter. He’d always hated travelling that way. The whole process of getting disintegrated then 3D printed somewhere else just kinda unnerved the man. Like, when it was all said and done, could you even be sure you were still YOU anymore?
After taking a few, good, deep breaths to settle his stomach, and his nerves, Jack stood up a little straighter and took in his surroundings. Honestly? There wasn’t much to see. Just a long hallway, kind of plain for HJ’s tastes, but functional, he supposed. Peoples milled back and forth between the doorways set evenly along each side, some of which were Syntech employees like the one who had helped him through the registration process.
The others, Jack had to assume were contestants like himself. Some of them seemed the fighting type, even if they looked pretty weird, but HJ was pretty sure he’d spotted one or two apparent children moving about as well. What the hell was going on here? Like, were they just visiting, or did they just have shit parents who let them enter death tournaments? Jack motioned over a young woman with a Syntech logo on her shirt to ask.
“Uh, hi. Handsome Jack,” he began, motioning to himself. “Listen, pudding. What’s up with the kids? And the… aliens? I guess? I don’t know what to call the green guy. Maybe he just likes cosplaying… anyway, what the hell is going on? You let kids enter your murder fights? That’s some fucked up shit.”
“Well, sir,” the lady said with a sigh of long patience, “Everyone in this tournament is a Prime. Even if they die, they’ll just come back after a few days like nothing happened. And, they signed the appropriate waivers and the like, just the same as you. If you have a problem with Syntech’s policies, you may direct your complaints to Customer Serv-”
“Alright, fine. Whatever. Just… just go,” Jack grumbled sullenly, fighting down the sudden urge to just put a bullet between her condescending eyebrows. He couldn’t afford to be disqualified before he even had a chance to win anything.
And see, that was the whole reason he’d even decided to go along with this whole thing. The rewards. He was, what the dead man had called, Fountain Fresh. Jack understood enough about how these things worked to know that meant he was at the bottom of the totem pole. Without some kind of leg-up, he’d be stuck being someone else’s bitch, instead of calling the shots like he should be. Little slaughterfests like these always had a few goodies waiting at the end, something Jack could use to make his own life a little easier.
All he had to do was murder everyone else and it’d be his for the taking. And if there was one thing Handsome Jack was good at… it was killing people for his own personal gain.
After taking a few, good, deep breaths to settle his stomach, and his nerves, Jack stood up a little straighter and took in his surroundings. Honestly? There wasn’t much to see. Just a long hallway, kind of plain for HJ’s tastes, but functional, he supposed. Peoples milled back and forth between the doorways set evenly along each side, some of which were Syntech employees like the one who had helped him through the registration process.
The others, Jack had to assume were contestants like himself. Some of them seemed the fighting type, even if they looked pretty weird, but HJ was pretty sure he’d spotted one or two apparent children moving about as well. What the hell was going on here? Like, were they just visiting, or did they just have shit parents who let them enter death tournaments? Jack motioned over a young woman with a Syntech logo on her shirt to ask.
“Uh, hi. Handsome Jack,” he began, motioning to himself. “Listen, pudding. What’s up with the kids? And the… aliens? I guess? I don’t know what to call the green guy. Maybe he just likes cosplaying… anyway, what the hell is going on? You let kids enter your murder fights? That’s some fucked up shit.”
“Well, sir,” the lady said with a sigh of long patience, “Everyone in this tournament is a Prime. Even if they die, they’ll just come back after a few days like nothing happened. And, they signed the appropriate waivers and the like, just the same as you. If you have a problem with Syntech’s policies, you may direct your complaints to Customer Serv-”
“Alright, fine. Whatever. Just… just go,” Jack grumbled sullenly, fighting down the sudden urge to just put a bullet between her condescending eyebrows. He couldn’t afford to be disqualified before he even had a chance to win anything.
And see, that was the whole reason he’d even decided to go along with this whole thing. The rewards. He was, what the dead man had called, Fountain Fresh. Jack understood enough about how these things worked to know that meant he was at the bottom of the totem pole. Without some kind of leg-up, he’d be stuck being someone else’s bitch, instead of calling the shots like he should be. Little slaughterfests like these always had a few goodies waiting at the end, something Jack could use to make his own life a little easier.
All he had to do was murder everyone else and it’d be his for the taking. And if there was one thing Handsome Jack was good at… it was killing people for his own personal gain.
Quote: Jack is in the Hallway
![[Image: Jacksig.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2018/04/13/Jacksig.png)