Zone C -- Megacity One

[The Future Warrior]

It didn't take long, tromping through the increasingly-mountainous path, before Graowr stopped. Just stopped completely in her tracks, looking back and forth across the area in front of her. For some reason...this just didn't really seem like the right direction to be headed. Maybe it was something about heading up, and up, and up, to such high altitudes without being able to fly, but it just didn't really...sit right with her. She shuffled about uneasily, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.

Dawn's footfalls clattered to a stop on the damp path, and her voice drifted out of the rainy gloom from near at hand. "What is it?"

The majin just turned around to look at the mercenary, eyes blinking slowly. "I don't think I like mountains," she said bluntly.

Dawn stared back at the shorter woman with a flat, unamused expression. "...what?"

"Mountains." Graowr lifted a hand, pointing onward in the direction they'd been going. "They're high. Really high. I don't like heights, if I can't fly. And right now I can't do that."

The grinding of Dawn's teeth against each other as she stared daggers at the increasingly-frustrating blue creature, trying to compose a proper response to that level of childish, inane silliness, was almost audible. "So...what do you propose we do, then? Where should we go?"

For several silent seconds, with only the constant pounding of rain and sighing of wind through the scraggly mountainside decorations to provide any noise at all, Graowr just stared silently at a point past Dawn's shoulder. "....hmmm. Maybe back to the city?" she suggested.

"Why. Would we. Go back there." Dawn's frustration was apparent. "We just left!"

"I don't like mountains!" Graowr repeated, pointing insistently back up the trail, toward the increasing heights.

The noise of frustration Dawn made was almost inhuman. She lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "....fine...we'll head back to the city."

"Yeah! Let's go! Back to level ground and stuff!" And the blue creature spun on one heel, hopping and bounding back down the path.

Dawn's trigger finger twitched as she stared after the tiny blue creature, as if seriously debating just opening fire and throwing caution to the wind. After a few moments to think it over and calm down, she just heaved an irritated sigh and jogged after the retreating alien creature. "Fuck this island..."

Graowr and Dawn moving from E5 to C4

[The Future Warrior]

Back into the city. Graowr was bounding ahead, taking great leaps and hops down the mountainside to quicken her pace. Of course, given the uneven footing and added slickness of the rain, it turned into a disaster for her. One wrong step and she went flipping and flopping, rolling and tumbling end over end down the path, and onto the city streets where she ended up sprawled out on her back in a messy heap, staring up at the sky overhead. She just blinked, confused at how she'd ended up in her current predicament, until Dawn's face loomed into her view, staring down at her with an expression threatening to show something like amusement.

"...I think I slipped, or something," the blue creature said sheepishly.

"'Or something' is a good way to put it," the assassin said. "Now get up. We haven't got time to take a nap out in the middle of the road."

"Oh, yeah. Right." And Graowr did just that, pulling her knees up into her chest and rolling forward, springing back up to her feet in one smooth motion. "Glad to be back on solid, level ground though. I never really knew I didn't like mountains before now." She brushed some pebbles and errant bits of grass and dirt off of her coat, before shifting about to re-adjust her scarf and gloves under it. "So, back in the city...I think we made a little wrong turn somewhere. This isn't where we left from before..."

"Were we trying to get back to where we were before?" Dawn questioned. She turned away, looking about to scan the area. "Besides, I think we're pretty close by there, anyway. We should be able to get back pretty easily."

"Oh, really? Lead the way, then! Getting back there will be in a place we've already been to, and it'll be a place we know, so we can get around easier!" The tiny blue girl nodded emphatically to her idea. It was a good one, in her mind.

Dawn just rolled her eyes as she started off on her way without a word. "Yeah, yeah...come on..."

Graowr and Dawn moving from C4 to C16

[Enel]

What a charming young … woman! I actually felt a little sad to split up from her, but I’d rather not roam about in packs and attract too much attention. It’s bad enough with all the roadies after my blood. Can’t a man get rich in peace?

Still, I feel somewhat ingratiated to her. And God does repay good deeds in kind. Should we run into one another again, perhaps I can be the one to lend assistance.

The other one caught my attention, but what with Graowr talking my ear off, I wasn’t able to get much of a read on her. Besides, it would have been poor manners to kill her for her items when they were helping me. In the end, they ended up furthering my goals – and that’s a job well done for one day, I feel.

I look across at Batman. He and the grumpy girl probably had a lot in common. Oh my god, I should like, totally get them hooked up. Two masked crusaders, squatting over rooftops … perhaps she could be the one to remove that mask and see him for his true self? How romantic!

Batman looks back at me, and I smile back. Don’t worry, Bats. Good things are on the horizon for you. Me and the blue chick are gonna hook you up with Ms. Grumpypants, and it’s gonna be so fucking cute.

All these good vibes have left me positively tingling. Or maybe it’s just the cramps in my legs for walking so long. It’s been a while since I got such a hardcore workout. I mean, I hit the gym, but then it’s back to my crib for bananas and milkshakes. I’ve never walked for four days before. If I weren’t a God, I’d probably be keeling over right about now.

Enel and Bats Man moving from C16 to C2. Not challenging anyone.

[MADBULL34]

Face to Face

Harlan Higgs vs Mad Bull

The hammer fell against the pin on Sergeant Estes’ revolver, letting loose a thunderclap of ear-splitting death from the fiery muzzle.  The first. 38 special slug catapulted across the short 20 yards from Mad Bull in a deadly path for Harlan Higgs’ sinister face.
 

KAPOW!!
 

The bullet went harmlessly through the chimeric illusion, shattering a stage-light in an explosion of sparks. From behind the mammoth cop, Harlan appeared. In a single shimmering movement, the vampire spun his prey around and delivered a pointed blow to the solar plexus.
 
“Over here my churlish friend!” Harlan intoned in a mocking cockney accent, releasing a swift combination of elbow and bare knuckled strikes, like a boxer sparring with a rack of beef ribs.
 
The hulking cop snorted as if the blows had fallen like fly-bites on a raging bull.  Sensing counterattacks, Harlan lifted his forearms to guard, but a meaty open-handed slap from the giant knocked them away. The boss of the Gentleman Jacks stood wide-eyed for moment until the bear-sized paws of Mad Bull wrapped their fingers around his neck. The gargantuan cop lifted the dapper gent off his feet; and Harlan’s wing-tipped shoes fought in the air as the Sergeant’s fingers throttled his windpipe.
 
The ancient mall and been left to countless years of neglect, yet somehow the glass storefront of a department store had remained intact. The marquee across the pane of glass read, “Bullock & Burdines: Fine Ladies Apparel,” at least until the well-dressed rogue crashed through it in a shower of glass. Mad Bull stood just outside, his chest puffing after executing the stiff toss.
 
As the remnants of the glass marquee twinkled down, a stillness grew between the two men. Darkness enveloped the insides of the department store and within that inky black, the cop knew he would be at the disadvantage. He stomped towards the broken window, making way for cover against the outer wall. As he advanced, heavy shots rang out.
 

PTAAM! PTAAM! PTAAM!
 

Harlan’s .357 Magnum spitted hot fire, but the rounds zinged harmlessly overhead. The lawman hugged the side of the wall, hesitating to advance into certain death. Harlan had made the stakes clear from the start - there would be no retreat, only bloody violent confrontation.  Nonetheless, he waited at the edge of the window, hugging the wall. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Revolver in hand, he dashed past the window, firing his hand-cannon once without aiming.
 

KAPOW!!
 

The blaze of the Smith & Wesson’s muzzle flash momentarily blinded Harlan, but within half a second, his .357 answered back with three more shots.
 

PTAAM! PTAAM! PTAAM!
click!
 
By the time “Mister Pinstripe Suit”  could return fire, Mad Bull was already safely hiding on the other side of the window, huddled against the wall.The seasoned lawman grinned; he had heard what he was waiting for. The click!
 
With a bellowing war cry, Mad Bull rushed through the broken window towards Harlan. The dapper mafioso was crouching behind a cash register, hurriedly attempting to reload the gun’s six empty chambers. The gorilla-sized man burst through the little cashiers desk and into Harlan. A fist full of unloaded ammunition scattered as the burly Sergeant tackled the vampire and pushed them both through the thin wood-paneled walls separating the lobby from the store showroom.
 
The two men tumbled, raising a cloud of dust, but the “gent” scampered out of reach, leaving the lumbering man atop a pile of splintered wood.
 
“Cough! Cough!”
 
Sergeant Estes cleared his throat as the dusty cloud began to dissipate. Within the haze he raised his firearm, four bullets still rattling within the cylinder, and scanned the dimly lit area for any sign of his adversary. He crouched low, then slowly advanced through the store’s aisles. Rows of tables were laid out with fanciful cloths in all manner of styles. At one time, the store must have been filled with hundreds of women, but for now, it held only two men with a coupon for death.
 
~~shuffle, shuffle!~
 
A quiet sound murmured to the lawman’s left. In a split-second he pivoted, leveled the barrel of his revolver at a waifish form 20 yards distant, and fired.
 

KAPOW!!
 

Fire from the gun barrel illuminated the insides of the mall for a brief moment. The sergeant could see the bullet collide with the head of the figure, exploding through the skull and splattering white chunks in a wide spray. Colorful clothes turned into shredded confetti that languidly rained down, their fabric ends singed. The smell of burnt plastic exuded. Mad Bull trotted towards the target, eager to confirm the kill. Pushing through a pile of mildewy dresses, he knelled over the corpse but could only grimace in fury.
 
The body gave the hollow thunk of worthless plastic. A mannequin. A fucking mannequin!

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Mad Bull shoots his first revolver round, but Harlan used Chimerstry to trick Mad Bull.
Harlan uses his Comstock Style,  but Mad Bull just uses his brute strength to fling him through a window.
Harlan fires his Colt Python three times, but misses.
Mad Bull shoots his revolver once again to draw out three more shots from Harlan, emptying Harlan's gun.
Mad Bull rushes Harlan and bursts the two through a wall, but Harlan escapes because he's so stealthy.
Mad Bull takes his third revolver shot, but once again misses.

[Gamzee Makara]

What the-

Ew. Strawso, ew. Stop that nasty shit. Tearin' flesh off and biting motherfuckers. Motherfuckin' disgusting. He probably tastes bad too...

A pause, before Gamzee is struck with another brilliant idea. He raises his forearm tentatively to his mouth, opens wide and chomps down har- OW! That fucking hurt! And it didn't even taste that good. The clown frowns and notices several pinpricks of purple forming on his arm where his pointy teeth broke skin. Another pause, as he looks up from his arm to the two currently locked in a grapple, and then back down to his lightly bloodied limb.

*slurp*

Eh, that part tastes okay, he supposes. Kinda fruity, but with the amount of Faygo he drinks on the daily, he ain't all that surprised. The High-Blood sighs before limping in between the two fighters. He faces Strazio with his hands playfully on his hips.

"Awwwright, Strawso," Gamzee begins, waggling a finger at him, "I think the poor motherfucker has had enough. Let's just take this here fancy item and leave him here to bleed ou-"

Huh. Ouch, again.

Looking down at the sword sticking out of his belly, and then back up at Strazio Rockwell, the troll is stricken with a weird sense of having seen this before. They got a word for that shit right? Délà bu or some such shittery. Yeah, Gamzee is getting some serious Délà bu outta this shit. He sighs. It hurt to sigh.

"Ey Straz, this shit look familiar to you? Gettin' flashbacks from the coliseum. You know, when you almost killed me? Ah, good times, good times," the shish kebab says, reminiscing. The Avatar roars an expletive in response. Gamzee supposes Straz wasn't really in the mood to talk.

"Yo, you mind pulling out of me?" He asks the samurai, chuckling at his terribly punny inuendo. It hurt to chuckle, too. He turns his head to try and get a look at the guy, making sure he doesn't move his body so the sword doesn't scramble his insides. The look on Shinmen's face is pretty worth it.

"Wh-What are you?" Man, is this guy just a walking cliché or what?

"Can't help but feel like I've heard people say that somewhere before," the troll muses. He carefully places the sword between his index finger and thumb, gently nudging it back out of his body.

Once the tip vanished into his flesh, Gamzee nods his head back at the swordsman, "Alright bro, your turn."

Shinmen growls, withdrawing his sword from the clown rather violently. A smattering of royal blood dotted the rain slicked pavement, promptly washing away in the rain. The blade was covered in a purple sheen, showing the ronin that his opponent does indeed bleed purple. Gamzee turns around to face his attacker, miracalizing his clubs into existence once more. He breathes in slowly, holding in the breath for a few moments before exhaling. Lightning crackles to life and wraps itself around his juggling pins, rain drops sizzling as soon as they fall near the electrified weapons.

The troll lunges and lashes out with the left club in a horizontal strike, Takezo in turn bringing up his sword to deflect. The lightning dissipates as it knocks the sword from Shinmen's grasp. The samurai curses his injured arm, unable to properly block with the one handed style he was so unused to. So preoccupied with the loss of his weapon, Takezo doesn't see the next strike coming and a sparking juggling pin collides with the man's chin in a brilliant skyward strike. The lightning discharges, coursing through his body as he falls to the wet concrete in a jittery, twitchy heap.

Gamzee goes for a swift boot to the man's gut that would've sent him sprawling across the ground. That is if the fool hadn't used his injured leg to do so. He shouts a yelping 'motherfuck!' and hops up and down on one leg, cradling his injured foot like someone who had just stubbed their toe on the corner of something in a dark room. He isn't sure what hurt more, the hole in his tummy or the ringing sensation verberating through his entire leg. He didn't even know legs could fucking ring.

Shinmen tries to get to his feet, but falls back to his knees, the numbness not quite yet subsided from his legs.

"Curse you!" He shouts.

"Fuck you!" Gamzee and Strazio simultaneously shout back, uncursed and all the better for it. The clown discards his clubs and rears back a fist before slugging the guy in the face.

Heheh. His face was squishy. He does it a few more times, giggling to himself every time he makes fist to face contact.

786 words in wordcounter.net

Takezo stabs a peace loving Gamzee with weird results
Gamzee uses Stun Clubs, Takezo was paralyzed for four seconds. Gamzee can no longer use Stun Clubs for the rest of the fight.
Gamzee punches him two or ten times.

[Deadpool]

As Deadpool exited the safe-house, he expected to see bustling street corners, filled with people of various sizes and colors stampeding each other to cross the streets; perhaps a stereotypical American devouring a chili-dog at the nearest stand. Nothing. The city was lifeless—a skeleton of its old self, void of anything other than empty buildings, which stood as reminders of what the past may have been.  

Without any light pollution to sully the atmosphere, nighttime reclaimed its former majesty. Stars glittered against the deep blue of the sky; a crescent moon glowed banana yellow; to the east, the fissure of a galaxy could be seen.

Karl had put a lot of effort into developing the Danteverse's scenery, the mercenary thought, but not so much when it pertained life.

He looked towards the redcoat and said, ”So where are we going Dante—is it cool if I call you Dante?  Narration. . . It's all so confusing.”

Dante was a few meters ahead of Jak and Deadpool, and already standing on the sidewalk. “Not sure,” he replied, “but anywhere is better than here.”

Jak gave his opinion: “I don't know about you two, but I want items. I say we pick somewhere that hasn't seen an item drop in a while, and hope Karl gives us one.”

”That is the name of the game this year, isn't it (crazy Karl, changing the rules each year)?”

The eco warrior sent Deadpool a bewildering expression. “Have you been clueless this whole time about that?”

”I'm sorry Jak, I've been preoccupied with swamp walking and stomping weird elf-looking characters that have weasel butt-buddy best friends,” Deadpool retorted.

“Ok you two,” the redcoat interjected, “wherever we're going let's get there without harassing each other the entire time.”

Jantepool move from C21 to C17. Not sure if anyone is there or not, but we're not challenging anyone if someone is there.

[Jak Mar]

The abandoned streets of the city showcased beautiful stars in the sky, while there was a full moon painting a glow on the trio. Jak would stare if he wasn’t busy arguing with the red suited man.

“HEY! You leave Daxter out of this.”

“You mean the half that’s not here?” Deadpool retorted.

Dante groaned “Can you two PLEASE…”

“Oh by the way, me and Dax are best friends, not butt buddies.”

“Same thing” Deadpool muttered

[Oleander]

When the pair cursed back at him, Takezo could not help himself. The more pain that surged through his body the greater his drive. The curse upon them was a joke that many Samurai had uttered when they were in his place. It was a dark humor only he understood. He snickered. That snicker turned to a full blown laugh as he rose to his shaky feet. HIs limp arm hung loosely, while his right, not too much better than the left, whipped out to fling a mixture of bloods into the eyes of his opponents. It was not as effective as the sand that Jak had thrown into his eyes, but it was just enough to roll towards his weapon of choice and collect it once again.

His legs buckled as he stood, requiring a second and almost a third attempt. Even as his legs grew weak, his grin grew only stronger. It was by sheer force of will that he launched himself towards ... Strazio. He by far hit harder than Gamzee, and with skin so thin he was the better choice if Takezo wanted to take someone down with him. The raging man had only just cleaned the blood from his face to find Takezo in it. For the second time, he felt the cold steel sink into his intestines with a brutal twist. The mage's reaction was to bring both hands up, almost cupping the ronin's face. It would have been game over if he used that move again... but an honorable fight was no longer an option. As those hands approached his face, Takezo leans over and just bites right between the thumb and the index.

It was just enough of a shock factor for Takezo to bring a weakened foot up and kick off of the mage, ripping his sword free, as well as a chunk of meat. The taste of raging blood had Takezo's own boiling. He spat the chunk of meat back at its previous owner. "Is it just me... or do you cut like hot butter?" Hot was accurate. To dig to the flesh had not been as easy as Takezo made it look, his face was adorned with burns from the inferno that was the man's flesh. In fact, he was not even sure that what he had bitten out of the man was even 'meat.' His face burned. His mouth burned. Everything burned. Even his spirits, but that was a completely different burn.

The warrior was breathing heavy, cackling in between pants. He flicks the blade, though the heat of Strazio's form had burned the blood off before the swordsman could make a show of it. There was nothing but scorched crimson staining the steal now.

While Strazio was recuperating, Gamzee took the brief window to dash in with those bulbous sparklers. Takezo was on the defensive, batting away the first strike with the broad side of his sword, then the second with a flick of shoulder and dead-hand. The shock brought sensation back, but only pain. Takezo was only slightly more skilled, and ready for the onslaught - and waiting for the opening. After both pins had been deflected, Takezo finds it. "Surprise!" Gamzee attempts to cover the obvious opening with a headbut... but Takezo was ready for it and lead with a knee. As Gamzee's head comes down, Takezo jumps into the strike right between the horns. The grunt earned earned a laugh, and the following elbow back to the troll's head dropped him to the ground.

Takezo sank his blade into Gamzee's back, pinning the troll to the ground. His breath was ragged after the flurry of motion. He was physically devastated, and Strazio was ready to get even. The swordsman was without his sword, one arm down, legs going numb, face burned, chest gored... "Are you ready to end this?" The man with the death wish, ready to go hand to hand with the raging beast. "No mercy." He was not talking about offering the berserker mercy. He was cackling as he told the man not to go easy on him. "Let's finish this Game of Blood."

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Takezo blinded Gamzee and Strazio briefly with his own blood
Gored Strazio again, bit his hand.
Surprise knee-faced Gamzee, then pinned him to the ground...
Going toe to toe with the Avatar of Rage... without his sword.

[Karl Jak]

Day 3 has concluded

It is not Day 4, Early Morning (12 am to 6 am) until 430 PM CDT on June 27th

[Harlan Higgs]

Unknown Gloom

Rapid clicks echoed around the room, coming from all angles as the vampire reloaded his revolver.


Harlan's voice echoed in the abandoned shop as he spoke to Sergeant Estes. "You know, you've got me all wrong. Pegged me all according to your own rules, your own life. Lemme ask you something, buddy; How long have you been here?"

A final click as Harlan loaded the last bullet, and then footsteps, echoing in the gloom. His voice still ringing out, an omnipresent murmur, impossible to pinpoint the direction it was coming from as he went on. "I've been here about two months. You? What, a week? Two weeks? You shoulda SEEN what it was like before me."

Mad Bull had had enough of this shadow dance, and he let the vampire know it. "I don't give a good goddamn what you have to say, you parasite! All I know is I'm gonna put you down!"

"Funny you should say parasite." The lawman would feel hands on his shoulder, one covering his mouth and jerking his neck upwards to expose the soft, blubbery flesh. "You're gonna be fattening, I bet." Harlan quipped, before hissing and sinking his teeth in Mad Bull's collar from behind. 

But the man was far too burly to be overpowered like his usual victims, and the two wrestled with each other, trying to gain the upper hand as they smashed into clothing racks and mannequins. Mad Bull slammed himself back against a display mirror wall hard enough to loosen the Ravnos's grip. With a mighty exultation, he grabbed Harlan's free hand and flung him one handed over his head. 

The conman sailed through the already broken windowpane, but he was lighter on his feet than he looked. As he hit the ground, he rolled and brought up his revolver, aiming it at the charging bulk of Mad Bull as the man jumped over the windowsill, meaty hands outstretched.

BLAM BLAM BLAM

His first shot went wide, but the next two went straight into the policeman's jiggling gut, eliciting a painful gasp as his charge was robbed of momentum. Harlan rolled out of the way and sprung to his feet, backing up and shaking out his sleeves as he performed a complex gesture with his fingers, producing a deck of cards. As the man staggered to his feet, the Ravnos continued his lecture. "Take a drive around Little New York sometime. Watch the citizens walk around, safe and secure. The gang I got rid of? Violent fucks. My hands are clean of all the bullshit, Officer ."

He folded the deck with a loud shuffling noise and grinned. "When you wake up at the Nexus, go talk to the Westside. Ask them about the Ork Mafia."

He threw the cards into the air and instead of fluttering to the ground ineffectually, they picked up speed and began to whip around him in a vortex. The plaza was filled with a sound like a hundred blackjack dealers starting a round, and Harlan reached into his pocket and slid on his brass knuckles. "Let's dance, Cowboy."

He flung out a hand as Mad Bull advanced on him, nightstick drawn. A salvo of razor sharp cards shot towards the large lawman, an expression of surprise on his face as he tried to bat them away, grunting in pain as a few of them tore slices out of his flesh and cut his uniform. He powered through the assault, and Harlan brought up his fists in time to deflect a sharp rap of the nightstick. The whirling card vortex continued to circle him, shredding Mad Bull's pockets, uniform, and giving his hair a trim as they danced around each other. Meaty thwacks and "Oofs" of pain rang out through the stucco roofed stalls, each man giving as good as he got. 

Mad Bull's punches, when they landed, made Harlan's head ring-a-ding-ding. The guy was strong, even stronger than a beefy bastard his size should be. Harlan's kidney shots and gut smashes weren't having too much effect, although he could tell the man was starting to get winded.

It was time to finish this.

"You a gambling man, Officer? I am, most wholeheartedly so. But it's always best when you can stack the deck!"

Harlan dodged a swipe and danced backward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the tribal necklace. "Don't know what this does, but I like to live dangerously. You ready to meet the Big Cruller in the sky? Gahahahah!"

And he slid the necklace on over his head.

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Harlan reloaded his gun and used his illusions to disguise his location.
Harlan tried to use Feed, but Mad Bull's high attack allowed him to break the grapple.
Mad Bull threw Harlan back outside into the mall plaza
Harlan used Chimerstry: Card Sharp and had a furious punchup with Mad Bull, slicing him with the AoE.
Mad Bull soaked most of Harlan's hand-to-hand combat. 
Harlan uses Artifact: Red's Memento (It's a mystery what it does, Alex will post an update detailing the effects)

[Jak Mar]

Jak eyed deadpool. The red suited man seemed to be awfully quiet since they exited the safehouse.

“Hey Deadpool, you alright?”

“There’s news, Mar. You might want to check this out.”

Jak’s eyes wandered on the Colosseum screen as Dante finally appeared in there, with Gildarts of all people.

“Oh Shit, dante!” Jak clenched his teeth, rather angrily.

“Keep quiet.. Don’t want to attract unwanted attention.” The merc hushed the eco warrior.

“Dante just got “culled” and you tell me to be quiet?!” Jak was frustrated.

Mar took a breath.

[The Future Warrior]

Their trip through the city streets was, in what was perhaps becoming a sadly recurring trend, rather uneventful. It was quiet and desolate, empty of everything save for the sound of wind and rain and the imagined ghosts of what one would expect to see in such a vast city. Or what the mind conjured up to fill in the gaps in the swirling fog and gloom. It was spooky and unsettling, especially in the darkness of night. Graowr was an optimistic one, unquestionably, but when faced with the oppressive, gloomy environment, even she was starting to feel a little down. IT was beginning to get to a point where she really wondered if it might not have been better to brave the mountains, much as she really didn't enjoy the thought of tromping around such a high place for too long. Of course, there was no going back. They'd turned back and wandered back into the city, and now here they were.

Thankfully...a sudden alert on the syntech tablet drew the little blue creature from her internal glumness with a start. She fumbled the thing out into her hands, checking it eagerly. Something, anything, to give them a solid destination to go to!

Dawn's presence loomed over her in the damp, chilly gloom. "What is it?"

"Item drops!" the majin proclaimed. "Two of them, coming soon." She checked it over, sliding over to the location. "Back down in the foam, to the south...they're both a little far away, but if we hurry it shouldn't take too long to get there."

"Two of them, huh?" Dawn's attention had been grabbed. "Where at, exactly?"

The azure demon pointed them out on the map. "One all the way over here, just by the shore. The other one over here, right at the edge of where it really starts to flood, I think."

Dawn looked from one to the other, frowning slightly. "Neither one's really that much closer than the other..." she noted. "...let's just head down that way and see if we end up closer to one or the other."

"Okay!" That was all the diminutive blue not-an-alien needed to hear, and she stowed her tablet away again, bounding off into the gloom with a renewed spring in her step. Now she had a specific goal in mind!

Graowr and Dawn moving from C16 to C2

[Karl Jak]

The necklace settled onto Harlan.

For a moment, he felt nothing.

Then—searing agony that burned across his whole body.

‘Vic Hendy’ let out a guttural scream as he dropped to his knees and grabbed the sides of his head.  His whole body quivered as his muscles surged outward, threatening to tear open his flesh.  His clothes stressed and tore a little at the edges as red fur spread across the man’s arms, legs, and chest.  Fingernails fell off as bloody little chips as feral claws ruptured from his former fingertips.  Harlan threw his mouth open in another scream as all his teeth transformed into jagged, serrated fangs.  A brown mane of hair grew on his head the sides of his face as his facial bones broke apart and shifted forward to accommodate a small snout and a larger jaw muscles.  A tail unfurled from behind the man and twitched gently on the ground as fresh nerves shot their first sparks through an augmented nervous system.

The man’s eyes turned a dull shade of yellow as he rose from the ground and flexed the new muscles and joints.

Vic Hendy has used 'Red's Memento' and is now a were-Red for the remainder of Dante's Abyss.

PM in your box, Harlan

[Strazio Rockwell]

In response to the swordsman’s invitation the Avatar of Rage trundled forth. What was once a burning beacon of distilled rage was now little more than a candle at the end of its wick. Rain battered the fiery endoskeleton and threatened to extinguish the creature. And while the rain wasn’t solely to blame for his reversion it certainly did not help matters any. Ragged patches of ravaged skin stitched themselves back together and formed an ill-fit shell of flesh. Strazio growled and stumbled, bracing himself against a nearby wall. Hot blood rushed from the hole in his gut and he pressed a pale fist against the open wound. He sucked air, filling his lungs with labored and uneven breaths.

As the power of the Avatar waned so did Strazio’s grip on the conscious world. For all of his rage and for all of his might exsanguination affected him as it would any other man. Dark clouds swirled in his peripherals and his vision frayed. Takezō shifted in and out of Strazio’s sight. Not because the swordsman was mobile, but rather because Strazio’s eyes could not keep focus for more than a few seconds. He slid down the wall and fell on all fours.

“Fuck,” he whispered with a hint of fear in his throat, “fuck, fuck, fuck,fuck.”

Shinmen laughed, “have you finally bleed to death?”

Strazio tried to glare, but all expression had left his face. Instead he merely stared, slack-jawed, at his opponent. Words tried to leave his mouth, but were turned into nothing but a garbled mush. Shinmen chuckled and started limping towards the fallen mage. However as he stepped past the fallen troll something grabbed his ankle. Pallid fingers clutched the man’s leg and they belonged to none other than the high-blood himself.

“Yo, motherfucker,” Gamzee said, not even bothering to raise his head of the ground, “can’t have you walkin’ away now, I still got all kinna pep and vinegar.”

“That so?” Takezō said and pulled his leg free, “then I’ll just have to bleed it out of you.”

Using his boot to keep the troll pinned Shinmen grabbed the hilt of his blade and cranked on it. Strazio watched as his friend was tortured by the seemingly demonic swordsman.

“Dammit Gamz,” he muttered.

Wresting control over his breathing he managed to find some sort of equilibrium. Every limb felt like under-cooked noodles, and his entire body felt too heavy to be carries. His vision narrowed and focused, entering a sort of extreme tunnel vision. He started to crawl along the wall, using it as a brace for his ruined body. As he neared the two he took a deep breath and crawled to his feet. For a moment he stood still as the sudden change in blood pressure starved his brain. But once he was back online he half-stumbled, half-charged the swordsman.

Their brawl lasted for all of two seconds as Strazio was overpowered and for the second time that night someone was thrown through a glass storefront. The white-haired mage groaned as he found himself belly-up inside some kind of hunting goods store. He scanned his surroundings and his gaze came to rest upon a display stand that held a small hatchet. Outside he could hear Gamzee scuffle with Shinmen, and it did not sound promising. Well, he figured as he crawled to the weapon, if there ever was a time for a Hail Mary this was it. He pressed his mangled hand against the floorboards and examined it. After having been run through and chomped on the paw was damn near useless in all ways except for one. He cut a strip from his pants and formed a tourniquet around the hand’s wrist.

“You fuckin’ owe me one Gamzee,” he muttered and raised the axe high.

In one fluid motion he cleaved his hand free from his arm, cutting it at the wrist joint. Jets of dark red blood sprayed from the wound. With his still functioning hand he dropped the hatchet and clenched his newfound stump. A burst of magick, barely enough to be considered an attack, charred the edge of his arm. Even a team of master surgeons would have been hard-pressed to reverse the damage he had done to the wound, but between the tourniquet and cauterization the bleeding had more or less stopped.

He grabbed his severed hand and stood on shaky legs. He stumbled over to the window and peered down the street. Gamzee was trying his damnedest to not acquire new holes, but the swordsman did his best to go against the troll’s wishes.

“Gamzee!” Strazio shouted, “fuckin’ move!”

With that he threw his severed hand at them. Neither even had a chance to process the morbid curiosity before it became an unstable bomb and detonated.

Strazio used detonate on his own hand. This has been one helluva brutal fight, I wish the best of luck to Shinmen! Please be gentle Karl.

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Shinmen Takezo vs Strazio Rockwell & Gamzee Makara

The explosion caught both Gamzee and Takezo off guard and sent the warriors hurtling to the ground.  Despite his wounds and the fact that he had landed on his already battered arm, the swordsman was the first to rise to his feet.

“That was… your hand?”  He rasped as he tried to catch his breath.

Strazio responded by stampeding through the haze and bashing his hand-less forearm across the side of the swordsman’s throat.  “And this…,” the maniac growled through clenched teeth as he swung up the hatchet and sank it through the side of his opponent’s ribcage.  With nothing but adrenaline screaming through his war-ravaged veins, he yanked out the weapon, discarded it, and promptly thrust his hand through the shattered ribs.  Takezo struggled, his good hand trying to fight back, but a few moments later, Strazio tore the man’s heart out through the hatchet-sized gash in his chest.  “This is your fucking heart,” the wild-eyed Defender of Darkshire growled through the blood welling in his mouth.

With his strength already starting to fail him, Strazio discarded the organ and collapsed next to the swordsman’s corpse.

[spoiler]
#06 Shinmen Takezo DEAD

Strazio takes 8 points of Accumulated damage, including the Majory Injury – No fucking hand
Gamzee takes 6 points of Accumulated damage[/spoiler]

[MADBULL34]

A revolting lather of foaming spit splashed onto Sergeant John Estes’ fear contorted face.  The horrifying “Were-Red” that was once Harlan Higgs had leapt across the abandoned corridor of the shopping mall and pounced atop the hulking policeman.

“GRAAHARRRAHHHRRH!” it snarled.

The beast flailed, claws lashing and teeth gnashing a hair’s breath from the lacerated officer’s nose. Desperately, Mad Bull held the Were-Red by its wrists, struggling, pushing and vying to create an inch more of separation between the rabid wolf and his naked flesh.  With a spine-tingling howl, Harlan let loose another snap of his canine jaws towards Mad Bull. The burly officer juked his head to the left and the Were-Red found only a mouthful of old concrete, spewing flecks of saliva like a burst water balloon all over the Sergeant.

“Watch the mustache ya goddamn dog!” Mad Bull bellowed as he rolled over the beast, trying to pin it against the ground.

The veins on the thickly built Sergeant’s neck pulsed as his bulking muscles exerted every iota of strength to keep the thrashing monster at bay, but even his immense power was not enough to contain the transformed creature. In a crimson flash, the Were-Red managed to pull a paw away and slashed out at the cop’s belly.

“Yeeaargh!!” Sergeant Estes cried, jumping off Harlan and retreating a few steps. His blue uniform was in tatters, three claw marks cutting through the fabric and leaving red hairline cuts across his burly torso.  Sweat poured down his exposed neck and trickled into the fresh wounds leaving bloody streaks throughout his black chesthair. His lungs heaved painfully.

The animal paced like a caged tiger, and it would have appeared comical with the torn strands of mafioso suit if it wasn’t for the bloody dripping claws it brandished under the light of the full moon. Guttural tones reverberated from a place deep within its throat as it continued to circle in-and-out of the shadows. Mad Bull furrowed his brow, trying to focus on the target. Harlan in his wolf-like form continued to weave through the darkness, encircling the cop, attempting to reach a killing range, but one misstep brought his red-furred hide under the illumination of the shining moon.

Mad Bull’s mustache bristled as he suddenly jerked a sweaty palm to his hip holster, drew the weapon and snapped off the fourth thundering shot from his Smith & Wesson revolver like a gunslinger at high-noon.


KAPOW!!


The Were-Red zipped like lightning as the .38 slug crashed through another shop window, spraying glass on its impact. Mad Bull pivoted, his eyes trying to follow the fast moving monster, the echo of its growl the only lingering clue to its path. The burly Sergeant gave chase, his heeled feet clapping in pursuit, following just in the wake of the beast as it clambered on all fours across the confines of the mall.

With a sudden burst of speed Harlan leapt atop a nearby storefront, bounded against the wall, reversed its course, swiveled mid-air and pounced towards the persistent officer, claws extracted and ready to tear.


KAPOW!!


KAPOW!!
click!


“YELLLP!”

Mad Bull squeezed the trigger twice, emptying the cylinder into the chest of the airborne beast, twisting hair and flesh into a mangled, agonizing mess of oozing wounds. The unnatural power of the weapon’s two shots stopped the creature’s jumping arc flat, prompting the beast to flop to the dusty tiled floor with a meaty thump. Its hairy legs twitched for a moment, then the frightening monstrosity seemed to come to its senses and scamper back into the shadows.

The Sergeant shoved the empty revolver back into its holster and tried to search for a sign of the unseen hunter that still prowled within dark corners. As he chased a musty smelling bloodtrail deeper into the mall, he suddenly froze in place.  Somewhere behind him, Sergeant Estes could hear a challenging roar, and from the vigor of the howl, he knew gunshots alone would not slay this beast. With a grimace, he reached deep into his pants and groped around his jockstrap. After a few seconds, he fished something out.

 Mad Bull tested the weight of the grenade in his hand, tossing it from palm to palm. A shadow crossed his brow; the seasoned law officer had a penchant for falling into the worst sort of violent encounters, and today was no different. Once again, the monstrous man would need to rely on his unconventional methods to get through another life-and-death fight.

He waited, his ears listening for the next scamper or bark from the Were-Red. After a few tense moments, he found the beast alone in a dark alley between two storefronts.  Its upper lips curled, snarling inhumanely as Mad Bull pulled the pin and rolled the grenade towards the abomination.

Harlan in Were-Red form slashes up Mad Bull.
Mad Bull fires his fourth revolver shot - Miss!
Harlan stealthily hunts Mad Bull and tries to pounce.
Mad Bull fires his fifth and sixth shots at the Were-Red - Hit!
Harlan retreats, but Mad Bull pursues.
When Mad Bull finally finds Harlan, he uses 1 SP to use Hand Grenade - Tier 1 Super Move (Requires Ranged Proficiency & Area Attack Proficiency).


A brief character note - Mad Bull won't reload his revolver in a fight once he uses his six bullets. He still has his nightstick and shotgun, and hand-to-hand combat however.

[Karl Jak]

Harlan counters using his T1 Super Attack - Waking Nightmare.

The result of the roll is a 2, so both super attacks cancel each other out!

[The Future Warrior]

It had completely escaped her just how hungry she was. Just so focused on running around, getting all the item drops she could. Most of them had been in one area of the island, more or less, but that didn't make it any easier to get around! All of the water, and crazy fog and rain and deserted cities with their crazy layouts and the start of mountain climbing and back and forth and--

She was cut off mid mental ramble by the sound of an angry bear emanating from her stomach.

Oh, right. She was hungry. And God Enel had given her a gift to alleviate that problem! He really was great. A lot more generous than Lord Beerus, that was for sure. He was...kind of a sore-tempered old cat. Liable to blow up at you for looking at him wrong. Enel had a temper, from what she'd seen on the dataverse and stuff, but at least it was justified in his case. People expecting him to do everything and just take out everyone like it was his job. That was just not right. It wouldn't be right of a god had all the fun like that. The competition would never last!

As the blue creature sat down to focus on eating, that was what went through her head. As she glanced around at the others, she was left to wonder, also, just how strong they might really be. She knew how strong she used to be, of course, as well as how strong she was now, after coming here. So it really was a curiosity just how strong they all might have been formerly, and how strong they were now. What the comparison might have been, if there was one to be made. Pink eyes blinked slowly as she ruminated over this, letting her mind roll and roll over, wrestling with it and debating whether or not to actually ask about it or not. And perhaps unintentionally, she had tuned out the goings-on around her. At least until someone spoke to her directly.

"...and what say you, my little blue disciple?" It was Enel. A lazy grin on his face, looking in her direction expectantly, a question she had missed entirely waiting for an answer.

The majin blinked several times, looking back at him blankly, with the tail of a fish well into being consumed handing out of a corner of her mouth. After what felt like an incredibly long time (but was really only a second or two) of awkward silence, she tilted her head with an inquisitive "Mmm?"

"What to do now," the bat-man spoke up.

"Yes, where we should head to next. We've gotten these last few item drops completely uncontested...shortly after our running into each other. Perhaps we should stick together for at least a while longer, while that luck holds." He held out a hand, palm up, as if inviting an answer. "So, where do you think we should head?"

"Mmm!" With a nod of her head, and a series of sharp crunch and slurp sounds, the remainder of the fish disappeared beyond her lips, and moments later, down her throat. Scales, fins, bones and all. A moment later she turned aside and spat twice in quick succession, a pair of wetly gleaming fish eyes plopping into the damp ground. "Oh, I was going to head back to the city! It's the closest safehouse that isn't out there in the water where it's all nasty. And there's a bunch of places in there to set up a good hiding and watching place, so we can get to just about anywhere pretty quick, wherever the next item drops are!"

A long, silent round of staring at her went around, shared by all present, before a slow nod from the lightning-man, who cast a look to his batty companion. The grim-faced man in black offered merely a noncommittal shrug and grunt of what was probably agreement. Graowr turned to look at Dawn to get her reaction, and it was the same as ever. Indifference and begrudging acceptance.

"Very well then! Let us be off!"

The unlikely group, a matched set of pairs — one all too happy with this arrangement, one tolerating it out of convenience and a drive to win — got up to make ready for moving on. What little there was to re-pack was re-packed, and they were off. The fire was left to its own devices. In this rain, it wouldn't last long anyway.

The unlikeliest arrangement, God and Pals, moving from D3 to C2

[Deadpool]

After Dante managed to get his two comrades to stop arguing, the three of them began their journey.

They walked north, up a street named Karl Parkway; when the next street intersected it, they bent right. Mom and pop rowhome stores filled either side of the street—Seifert's Delicatessen, read above one storefront to Deadpool's left.

Jak was checking car windows. Whenever they passed one he would lean over and peer through the dusty panes, hoping to find something; each time he was left disappointed, hanging his head until the next car neared.

”What're you looking for?” Deadpool asked. ”A new home for you and your weasel lover?”

Jak was visibly exasperated by the mercenary's constant insults. “Do you ever let up?”

”Nah,” Deadpool answered. ”Ask Dante.”

He went to looked towards the redcoat, but when he did, he saw nothing.

”Wow, that happened rather fast.”

Jak noticed as well. His eyes popped halfway out of their sockets. “Where's Dante?!”

Deadpool looked above at the painting of stars in the sky. The milky sunlight of early morning was beginning to rise above the horizon. ”Probably Karl,” he said.

“Colosseum,” Jak murmured. He then quickly pulled the tablet from his bag, and located the app that streamed Dante's Abyss. “Here he is,” he said.

Deadpool peaked over the eco warrior's shoulder to view the tablet. Dante stood on one side of the arena. His face looked as surprised as Jak's did earlier. Across from him, a tall man with brown hair began locking eyes with him.

Deadpool noticed the man. ”Hey Jak, its someone else I've owned during D.A.,” he quipped, ”maybe you two can forge a friendship out of that shared experience.”

Jak glared at the mercenary. His visage could only be described as the “What'chu talkin' bout', Willis?” face.

Jakpool moving from C17 to C21

[Strazio Rockwell]

“Bro,” Gamzee groaned, “why’s you throw your motherfuckin’ hand?”

Strazio did not answer. The troll shifted, peeling himself from the asphalt.

“Bro?” he questioned, taking a glance at the set of bodies laid before him.

Well there it was, Strazio was dead and sad days were upon the poor troll. Gamzee crawled to his feet and brushed some dirt out of his hair. He scooped up one of his clubs and walked over to the fallen mage. Using the club as a stick he poked the corpse’s ribs. A miracle happened right before his eyes. The handless boy shuddered and coughed, and if there was one thing he knew it was that dead people don’t cough. The troll squatted next to his fallen friend and pressed a bloody hand against his master’s back. Faint breath reverberated through Strazio’s ravaged chest.

“Gotta get you somewhere safe,” Gamzee grunted as he threw the mage over his shoulder.

It was a strange dichotomy Gamzee supposed, not that he knew the word dichotomy, but a similar word crossed his mind. Just minutes ago the two were enjoying some good ol’ fashion vandalism, but now he was carrying his half-dead friend over his shoulder. Though he had never seen someone get their blood-pump forcibly removed before, so that was kind of neat.

Every now and again the troll would pause to gather his bearings. They were headed to the safehouse where they had met. There was no chance that they’d survive another fight, after all Strazio only had so much blood to forfeit. Not that he was doing much better, between his bum leg and the holes in his back he might as well have been on his deathbed as well.

“You’re one heavy motherfucker you know that Strawso?” Gamzee muttered.

“Go fuck yourself,” Strazio answered weakly, having grabbed the coattails of consciousness.

“That’s the spirit Strawso,” he said, “don’t you worry none, we’ll be home in no time.”

Moving C21 to safehouse C