Zone D -- The Foam

[The Future Warrior]

As she got closer, she realized it was...yeah, it was two people, alright.

Some...older looking guy. Like the sort of person you'd see working on a car or something, maybe? She wasn't sure what the word for it was...something to do with machines. She could worry about it later. He was sitting on what looked like a chest of some kind, in the wet sand. That had probably been where the item drop was! Aw, man, so somebody else had found it before she did! Dang it! Oh, well.

The other guy was...kind of weird. He looked human, but his skin was gray. Like...a gray that humans never got, unless they were seriously sick or dead or something. And he had horns. Makeup on his face, like some kind of clown or something. It was bizarre. But funny. He looked kind of harmless. Then again, a lot of things looked harmless that weren't harmless at all. Maybe this guy was one of them. Have to keep an eye on him.

She jogged up, over the soggy, sticky shoreland ground, toward the duo. "So did you..." She started, only to trail off as someone else spoke up, announcing their arrival. Her head snapped around with her body not moving to stare at the newcomer. He...just gave off a bad vibe. She didn't want anything to do with that kind of guy here, if she could help it. Not yet, anyway. This was about some kind of duels or something, in the safehouses. Fighting out here wouldn't be right. So...

"Uh, yeah, what he said!" She pointed after the man who had previously been sitting on the chest. "It was nice to meet you, though!" And she turned to hurry after the...uh...mechanic? Mechanic, that was it! She hurried after him. "Hey, wait up!"

Gettin' on outta here. Moving from D8 to C12

[Gamzee Makara]

Wow, it sure was getting fucking crowded up in this bitch.

"Wow, it sure is getting motherfucking crowded up in this bitch," Gamzee says to everyone but no one.

He takes a moment to blankly stare in the newest arrivals general direction. Something tells him no one is gonna be able to make friends with this motherfucker around. Bro is just oozin' bad vibes. The other one, a really pretty...girl? It looks like a girl. Gamzee was pretty sure it was a girl. She was giving off some chill airwaves. Maybe she'd be down with the clown in a totally platonic way. Then there's the dude with the chest, the one he came to shoot the shit with in the first place. He's kinna a hard one to place, as of this moment. Stale and stagnant are the first words that come to mind.

But again, none of that matters. The aforementioned unfriendly motherfucker looked ready to deal some death and then die, not necessarily in that order. In fact, it seems that his almost new found friend had picked up on the same motherfucking vibes! It certainly must be a sign.

A plan of sorts began to form in the clown's whimsical mind. But for now, desecration is the better part of power or something like that. With that thought, Gamzee sighed, held his tablet in one hand to find a new destination, and began to walk away; keeping what Gamzee hoped was a nonchalant eye on the direction the older looking dude took off. It probably wasn't.

"Yo, would ya look at that! Ahaha, yeh, sorry, turns out my lil electro doodad pad thing malfunctioned. This ain't where I was headed. I don't think there's an item drop here, nope, no siree. Nice almost meeting you guys. Maybe I'll see ya around yeah?"

Attempting to abscond from D8 to C13

[Oleander]

Takezo quickly assessed the situation. The two brightly colored folk had almost a cheer about them. Too cheery for this situation. The more human looking man, however, seemed a bit hesitant, a bit eager to get out of here. A bit protective, maybe?

As Higgs made to leave, the swordsman quickly cut him off. He was a bit quicker, lighter on his feet, if nothing else. He still held his left hand upon the hilt of the sword on his left hip. It was not proper drawing technique, anyone could see it would be difficult to collect the sword from its sheath in that position. The untrained might assume his hand was resting there as more of a threat than anything.

"Hold on, now... this is a competition. Shouldn't we at least act like it? I've got a few friends heading this way... If you and yours would... sit a spell..." he had heard, sharp ears of the hunter. "We could all have a nice little Game of Blood." The way he sharpens his words in mention of the "game" gives the sensation that this "game" was not one played on a board with no consequences.

"Of course, if you surrender, I'll allow you to pass without confrontation." Takezo was grinning ear to ear. The glint in his eye had a hope that Higgs would put up a fight. The fingers of his left hand twitched, itching to draw and cut this man down. "The option is truly yours. Sit and wait, and we all can play the game... We could play now, and maybe all three of you could walk away unscathed... or fill my hand, and I will step aside."

His right hand rose, palm up. Takezo's threat was not empty, unlike his hand. The way he stood gave him the advantage. He could so swiftly draw for the first strike if Higgs were to so much as back away. Takezo almost dared the man to try to run.

On the other hand, it would seem the blue woman was not of interest to him. She was too cheerful, she did not seem to have something to hide. As she left, Takezo did not even spare her a glance. They might meet later, and then she would have all of his attention.

D8, Challenging Higgs.

[Harlan Higgs]

Hendy's lips pulled back into a wry smile as the swordsman moved to block his path. Ah. Now here was a situation he was much more familiar with: being threatened. The swordsman, Takezo, that was his name; now he remembered - he was posed like he had all the time in the world, like he didn't really care which way this went. 

Which suited the vampire just fine.

"Well now, hold your horses, friend. I'm a fan of games and amusements, but I would think your game is a might more serious than the types I'm used to. And in any case, we're already playin' a game!" He gestured around him at the entirety of the island. "One run by that fancy feller in the purple suit. But I tell ya what..."

The Kindred produced a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere, and shuffled them in his hands. "Humor me first, and pick a card." He held them out fan style, the pupils of his eyes subtly turning a rich, dark purple.

Takezo smiled like a cat, and reached out with his right hand to pluck one out of the arrangement. "Very well. I will play your little diversion. Ah ha! The-"

Vic shushed him. "Now now, don't tell me! Ain't gonna work if you tell me!" He reshuffled the deck, and concentrated very hard while Takezo played with his card.

And just below the swordsman's ankles, the sand shifted, something silently stirring and stretching upwards through the silt.

"Now...I'm gonna need you to hold the card up, facing you, while I shut my eyes. Then I'll tell you what card it was, you ken?"

Takezo obeyed, if only for the mild amusement it provided him. He knew he had Hendy cornered. Soon, he would split the man in two, watch the jeweled rubies fall upon the beach in a pitter patter.

"Alright, my eyes are closed! Now..."

The vampire smiled.

"It's the Ace of Clubs."

Takezo furrowed his brow and looked at the card. "Ha! You are wrong, fool! It is the 4 of Hea-what?!"

There was a sound behind the demon swordsman's head, a soft -thwip- as if an arrow had been loosed right as him. The suddenness of it made him jerk his head backwards to see his hidden attacker, only gor him to be greeted by placid sky and burbling waves.

What this did not let him see was the three thick, salty ropes bursting from the sand and knotting themselves around both of his legs and his sword hand, fastening his wrist to the hilt he'd perched it upon so arrogantly.

Hendy turned on a dime and beat feet for the dune grass, laughing as he heard the demon's roar of anger and the crackling, scraping noise of his attempts at freedom. 

He'd bought himself enough to reach the low dunes and bushes, the beginning of the scrublands leading towards the city on the horizon.

Takezo could only watch as Hendy rounded an especially thick boulder....and was gone from naked sight.

Escape Attempted
Used 
Chimerstry (arrow sound)
Chimerstry - Tendrils of Dream
Stealth

[Oleander]

Takezo was left to struggle under the powerful grip of whatever this was. Amidst his vicious howls came the words "DAMN YOU SORCERER!"

The struggle ensued for several moments. The conman had conned him, and was gone from sight by the time Takezo managed to free his sword arm and draw the blade from its sheath. He cut through the tendrils, angry at the loss, and even more that it deprived him of a fight. He would not fall for that trick again. "Does every man, woman and child possess MAGIC in this world?!" He was irritated.

Rising to the top would be difficult if everyone had access to magic. The greater the challenge, the sweeter the reward. A smirk curled his lips. A laugh rose from his chest and he thrust his sword into the air. "Challenge accepted Omni!" Because of course that is why the omnipotent being brought him here. The swordsmen of Japan were not nearly as powerful as one who could wield magic, and magic was nigh extinct among the human kind.

The laughter continued as Takezo flicked his blade free of remnants. With two forceful steps, he yanks his sandal clad feet from the remains of Harlan's trap, and continued on his way. He peered off towards the south, towards the flooded flats. "Don't drown, little Tanuki... I look forward to finishing our little spat..."

He did not follow. Instead, the swordsman sheathed his blade and continued east, towards where Dust was. He did not seem to move; perhaps he was waiting. No matter. Once he collected Dust, they would find Dawn - and then it will be time to hunt! The hand upon his sword itched again. He so wanted to cut and kill! He would become the best, and to do that he had to find worthy prey. In this little game he did not mind much to hunt with others.

For now, he was heading back to the shoreline, towards what he would soon find to be the docks.

Escape successful
Disengaging.
D8 to C13

[Handsome Jack]

Ok... this is starting to get a little boring. I look around at the pristine white sand, listen to the waves crash and seagulls call, feel the bre-

Wait... I already went over that, huh? Yeah. Definitely gotta get a move on. Can't just stick around here and... look at nothing. Don't get me wrong. Sure am enjoying the fact no one is around to talk to me. It'd be pretty irksome if I had to give out a spiel to my dinner when they asked me to 'please stop eating me'. Or, heaven forbid, I actually had to hold down a conversation. That's all good. I just need to find somewhere more interesting to be alone in.

With that thought, I walk off in a random direction.

Moving from D6 to D2

[The Future Warrior]

In no time at all, it seemed like, they'd started to leave the city behind. The last traces of it, just a few outlying buildings here and there and the last traces of a road, passed them by as they rolled right along. Graowr was just happy to have a new friend along, especially one so goofy. She still couldn't really get a read on him. What he was all about, so to speak. He was just so...laid back was all she could think of. Almost like he was tired or exhausted, but completely relaxed like he'd just woke up from a good night's rest. It was a paradox, and one she was having quite the time puzzling over. Behind her wide, unblinking eyes, the gears were turning. Slowly, as they were not used to such strenuous and constant use, but they were turning. Trying to figure out the puzzle of Gamzee Motherfucking Makara.

She was pretty sure she was missing a few pieces.

"So, Gamzee. I got a question," she finally said after a short bit of silence.

"Well, you just feel six kinds of free to go ahead and be making that question asked, my blue bud," the be-painted man said with a curious blink of the eyes.

"Not trying to be rude or anything, but..." She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him. "What are you?"

"What am I?" That one seemed to stop him dead, mentally speaking. His face scrunched up, eyes narrowing as if in intense focus. "I'm not sure if that's some kinda trick question you just went and threw all out there, or if I'm just lettin' it roll around the thought box too much or what..."

Grawor couldn't help the giggle that came up. "You talk funny!" she said.

"Well, shucks, funny is something I aim to strive and be. Gotta make as many folks get down with the clown as I can, and that involves bein' all sorts of funny and charming, gettin' all up in the business of folks and makin' it mine too, ya know?"

"Nope!"

Now it was Gamzee's turn to laugh. "Aw, man, I just got the need to be makin' sure everyone's chill and got their mood in a level place, not all up in the angry harshness."

"Ooooh...." She still didn't really get it. "So you're funny on purpose! To make people stay calm or something?"

"That is a way of describing it that is pretty much accurate, in a way that is not quite but pretty close to bein' spot on," the clown-painted dude said, with a finger gun salute at the small blue creature.

"I think I get it!" she piped up, with a nod. "That's pretty cool. You're pretty good at it!" She tilted her head slightly. "But, uh...like I said, what are you? You look kinda human, but you got those horns and stuff..."

"Aw, man, is that what you were all on about wanting to be made informed about and know?" He shuffled his steps slightly, before bringing up a hand to jab himself in the chest with a thumb. "I, my small of stature little friend, am a troll!"

Grawr didn't miss a beat, just blinking once before speaking up. "What's a troll?"

Moving from D4 to D7

[Gamzee Makara]

"Aw, well shit I-"

Hm. That's a good question, actually.
 
"Ya know, Lil' Blue, that's a pretty good motherfucking ask to be askin'," he begins slowly, piecing together the words about as quickly as he could - which, as it turns out, was not very quick at all.

"Ah suppose that a troll is like, on an exential level, one of two things. Or in some extra super special super extra secret cases...both." The alien teen whispers the last word dramatically for added effect. His theatrics are well received, as they manage to elicit the smallest of cutest gasps from his new blue buddy. Gamzee snickers at the opportunity to bust out his storyteller voice for a new audience.

"In my own percoolyer existence," he begins with a notable drawl, almost akin to that of a southern preacher. He somehow manages to retain the general rasp his voice carries, and continues in a wonderfully grandiose telling of existence for a troll.

"I am what is to be considered by some but none a Troll from a ve-e-e-ry far off purple hunk o' rock that just so happens to be...Alternia! S'my home away from home away from home. Now you may be thinking up in that lil' squishy blue think pan of yours, 'but GamGam, why you got so many homes?' Well my small cerulean frond, that's prolly a story for another time. This shit is hard enough to think up and understand on my own terms, can't even imagine what all that hypegoodshit information would do to a young, literally and physically impressionable mind like yaselves'. Anyways, I was spreaken of Alternia, which is this mostly chill mostly deadly place where I grew up and..."

Gamzee rambles on for an inordinate amount of time about nothing, yet everything pertaining to his home planet of Alternia. He talks about growing up with his mostly-never-there parental unit, whom he affectionately refers to as 'Goatdad.' He talks about the tyrannical government in place, and how he doesn't really know what is going on ever just that everything is pretty shitty for everyone, except the top tier blood lines; which then launches another rambling line of conversation about the caste system dictated by blood color, how he actually is of noble decent but blatantly ignores his responsibilities and future position of power.

"Shit ain't right," he murmured, his normally goofy and ridiculous demeanor darkening for only a moment. "what my people do to their own."

And then he talks about all his wonderful, amazing, ridiculous friends and how they, despite the caste system, come from all different lines of blood ranging from the lowest of the low straight on up to royalty. Bringing this subject up brings a small pang of guilt and sadness to the troll's heart, as he recalls that he has not heard from his best buddy in quite some time. He doesn't let it reach his face though. The show must go on.

*splish*

Whoa. Shit's all watery all of a sudden. There wasn't near as much sand around this part of the zone. The area was pretty well sunken under water, more or less. It didn't look like any section of it was too terribly deep that it would swallow him whole or 'nuffin, but still. Shit reached his chest. Kinda spoop. Glancing down at his finite friend's height in relation to his own. Hm. This could be troubling. Best to keep her spirits and her smile high, though. That way she can breathe, of course.

"In FACT! My best buddy bro in the whole wide motherfuckin' multiverse, Karkat Vantas, is on the lowest level of this janky-ass caste system. He and I are tighter than like, some really tight shit. Glue or knots or something, Iunno. Know what I'm spittin' in your direction? Ain't nothing could ever come between us. Not even time, space, and everything in between."

"Oh, and everybody else? Now, I can't really speak for all of us, but I like to think that we all love each other. Even if some of us kill, maim, or threaten the others from time to time. Shit happens, bro. Family can be like that. Just another miracle to appreciate, like love and hate. Besides, at the end of the day, we all keep our chill and come together like friends should. Lopasimmetetic?"

Gamzee continues his gallant if somewhat scatter-brained explanation of his home planet and what it means to be a troll, and continues on to the next issue presently presentin' itself.

"Now, there's a 'nother troll that me, as in myself and I, am not all up and quite acquainted with. Now I won't bore your gummy little head sponge with the details, but once upon a forever ago, me and my troll pals had to kinda talk to these human motherfuckers through our computers. Yaknow, to save their world and our asses n' shit. Long story, seriously, not right this second my noggin is bout to burst with all this success wicked wisdom and whatnot. But anyways, for some reason, Karkat thought that to like, properly make with the excommunication with these human dudes, we all had to be hella mean to these humans. Like, for no reason. Fucking crazy right? I still don' rightly know how he came deep down to that conclusion but there it is. I wasn't ever very good at it man, didn't see the point. So anyways, long story short, trolls are also trolls (and I guess anyone else who has the miraculous abilities to access a computorial device) who like, make fun of other people for being a 'lil slow in the head. Personally, I just liked to sit back and enjoy the miracles of our existence. Like I tried and stuff, to be mean I mean, but all I ever really was up and able to mobilize myself to do was light some sick fires."

D7 -> D11
Sorry for ridiculous travel post length, got carried away trying an idea for Gamzee's dialogue and this happened.

[The Future Warrior]

Graowr was listening intently, to all the ridiculous spiel being just sort of given out for free. It was all a bit much to take in at once, honestly. But it was at least interesting, and completely alien to her. Like something out of a story, or something that someone had made up just for the purpose of being entertaining and confusing. And boy, it sure was both of those things. Trolls really did sound complicated. And confusing. Gamzee, especially, was starting to seem like a mystery that just wasn't really meant to be figured out. Just kind of...accepted? Just left to be itself.

But that wasn't really important. Her attention, what wasn't focused on making sure she didn't trip or fall into a puddle or something, was wholly given to Professor Makara and his riveting stories about Alternia and Trolls 101. All the weird ways they were raised. Their bizarre culture. The harsh, almost comically evil and tyrannical 'government' (whatever that was), the strange system of hierarchy and social structures based on blood color...

"Woooow!" He was of noble blood? That was a surprise! Then he was going on, talking about how he just refused all his noble responsibilities, and just did his own thing. His friends, and all the different rungs of society they came from, all the strange things and shenanigans they got up to...

And on, and on, and on! It was honestly enough to leave her head spinning trying to process it all.

Sploosh.

Oh, right, the water. It was starting to get pretty deep out here. She was okay for now, but...well. That was a mess for when it happened.

She just listened intently as they went on, while Gamzee rattled and rambled on, letting his story wind down to an end. There was a lot she hadn't really understood about all that, but she was willing to just smile and nod, accepting it. Or, well...she would have, but by now they were well into the flooded area. And the water was rising up worryingly high, leaving her with her head just barely above water. If she'd had a nose, it would have been brushing the muddy waterline, just her eyes and up above the water. It didn't really bother her, though it slowed her down quite substantially.

She stood up as tall as she could, toes brushing the slippery, muddy ground as she pushed her head fully above water, briefly. "So, you said that you guys had different blood colors and stuff?" she started. "Trolls, I mean. What color is yours, then?" She ducked back down into the water to recollect her balance, before popping up again, bounding out of the water and letting her arms settle around the troll's neck, just sort of...trailing behind and floating along, letting herself get dragged through the water. "Sorry, water's kinda deep here and stuff."

She tilted her head, leaning around his shoulder to look ahead for a moment. "So...also, based on what you said, you're like...an alien troll but not a computer troll? And some of your other friends were alien trolls and computer trolls? And then there are people who are computer trolls but not alien trolls?" She rattled the questions off one after another, leaving precious little room for answers. Her mind was in high gear now. "Oh, and you mentioned something earlier about miracles. What are those? And, and...sick fires? Can fires get sick? I thought they just kind of...burned stuff?"

Moving from D11 to D15

[MADBULL34]

Arriving in D2 from E9

The tinkling of glass could be heard echoing through the abandoned resort.  Sergeant John Estes, also know as “Mad Bull” to his enemies, and “Sleepy” to his friends, was groping across and under a bar, rummaging for a full bottle of alcohol. His belly was laid across the counter-top while he struggled to stretch his fingers at the liquor shelf. A lovely bottle of Hennessy was almost in reach and he kicked his feet in the air to gain a few extra inches, but instead just feel in a clump on the other side.

“Arrgh!” he bellowed in shocked pain, the noise reverberating through the empty walls of the resort.

Rubbing the crown of his head, his eyes searched across his surroundings, cautious to spot other competitors, or any useful items nearby. Sleepy bit at the bottle’s cork and pulled it out with his teeth to a light *pop!*

The cop's mustache bristled as he took a healthy swig and began to patrol resort. Hennessy in hand, he walked through a screen door to the outside area where the forgotten pool lied.

The burly officer adjusted his cap and shielded his face from the misty weather. “Well, ain't that a shame,” he thought. “A hot rainy day, and here I was hoping to catch a couple’a bikini clad babes tanning today…”

Mad Bull took another swig of the liquor, sat it down on a nearby poolside table and began to unbutton his shirt and left it open to the sea breeze. Sweat was already beginning to bead down his chest in the stifling, humid weather.

“This weather better pass soon, or I’m liable to just drink this whole bottle and be done with it!” he muttered to himself.

Alcohol in hand, he continued to patrol the poolside. The water was devoid of swimmers and the whole resort probably hadn’t had vacationers in ages. “Good thing booze don’t go bad,” he thought.

Sleepy walked to the edge of the pool and leaned on the diving board. He took another sip and stared out into the jungle foliage just beyond the resort’s confines. His police intuition seemed to tell him that something was out there, perhaps even watching him. Rather than show all his cards, the policeman pretended to lackadaisically continue his passive search of the resort, but all his senses on guard, like a frightened animal that knows there is a jungle cat somewhere within the bush.

[Handsome Jack]

The sandy beach transforms into a dense forested area as I walk further inland. It's a nice change of pace, and the canopy provides some cooling shade from my carapace. Still don't really have a destination though. I guess I'll just wait for-

The tablet in my backpack beeps at me. Speak of the devil...

I stop underneath a large oak to check what new message I'd received. Looks like there's some new items coming to the island. I check the Map app and realize that none of them are anywhere close to where I am. Guess I'm in for some more walking. Putting the tablet back away, I throw the pack up onto my back, and head north.

Moving from D2 to D3

[Corporal Light]

He hadn’t expected to keep running out of fuel for his thrusters THIS quickly. Or, at the very least, he hadn’t expected to use up so much just to traverse the dark blue waters of the island. He cursed to himself as the numbers on the hologram projection plummeted straight down. 70. 50. 30.

Clarke puttered forward, fighting through the waves with every bit of oxygen fuel he had. He braced himself for the agony he was about to experience. 15. 5. 0.

His suit decompressed, steam shooting out of the orifices of his RIG. Seawater rushed through the now open holes, clogging up the oxygen tank, seeping into his suit, and instantly filling up his helmet. His eyes and nose stinging to hell and back, he smashed a button on his suit. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming as his boots magnetized to the floor. He swore that his leg was practically on the verge of collapsing in on itself; each pitstop for refueling was a dice toss to see how much more his leg could take before it had to give, and if it gave, there was absolutely zero chance of him standing a chance at the competition. Hell, if he had known that THIS was how the contest would go for him at the start, he would never have even bothered to sign up.

He opened up his shoulder thrusters and activated them. Water slowly spurted out of his suit; he opened his mouth to breathe. Nice, fresh air filled his lungs as a female voice sounded off inside his helmet.

“Oxygen restored.”

He stared off into the distance. Aside from several purple and black pieces of rock belonging to a few underwater caves jutting out from the waterline and a few mini-islands made of grass and sand, there was practically no real surface to grab onto or at the very least rest on.

Except, of course, for the small wooden platform about what looked like a mile or so away from him. On that platform was a massive stone building that looked a hell of a lot like a bunker. That bunker was the safe-house, which meant it HAD to have some medical supplies of some description that could treat his leg.

All he had to was swim.

He hyperventilated, psyching himself up for one more swim. His RIG was heavy and his thrusters weren’t fast in the slightest, but he cruised through the currents correctly, then he’d be able to get to the bunker just in time to avoid drowning. He just had to unlock his boots, hop forward, and swim. The pain would only be temporary.

He waited for the waves to steady.

He pressed a button on his torso.

His boots unlocked.

He jumped forward.

He anticipated pain. He was prepared for it.

But he did not want to hear the loud, crackling POP of his knee.

His leg exploded, electrifying spasms overwhelming his leg and swarming up the rest of his body. He couldn’t help himself. As he shrieked to the heavens above, he rolled onto his back and tried his absolute hardest to repair his tenderized leg, letting the waters take him to wherever they wanted him to go.

Still in D15, and heading right to Gamzee and Future Warrior! No kill me plz.

[Karl Jak]

End Phase 1 -- Day 1

[Deadpool]

“If you have to go potty while traveling through tropical waters, just go straight in your undies. Sure, it sounds pretty bad, buuuut it's better than a candiru swimming up your third leg, and then bouncing around the inside of your genitals like a hollow-tip bullet.”

The mercenary grasped a handful of grass, and pulled himself onto solid ground. Brown water filtered out the bottom of his mesh backpack, spilling back into the floodplain behind him as he stood straight.

He was on the only piece of dry land within a kilometer radius. To the east, he could see the faint outline of a skyline, sketched over a canopy of vegetation. Deadpool looked west and northwest; a mountain range sat throne over a long treeline, cutting into the sky like a dagger. The north led to cove, which welcomed you directly into the mouth of the forest.

“New island, same scenery,” Deadpool muttered. “Karl must get his landscapes from Bob Ross paintings (DA Bob Ross joke counter: 2)—let's put some friendly little trees, right over here.”

Deadpool decided to head east; mountains were for Ice Climbers (been there, done that ), and he was sick of goddamn forests (if he had to hear the words 'foliage' or 'vegetation' one more time his brain would scramble itself).

He took a step towards the edge of the water, anticipating its cold hands to fondle his balls again, but then the glint of metal captured his sight. Beside his foot, a long bar ran along the diameter of the island. The mercenary was no geologist, or any of that nonsense, but deduced the object had been manmade . . . or Karl made. He knelt down and touched it with an open palm, gliding it up the beam. It trembled, and made a churning noise; Deadpool snatched his hand back.

The beam slowly emerged from the ground, shaking the tall grass like rattlers until a crevice appeared on its long side. Then it ceased.

Deadpool widened an odd eye, but immediately carved a smile on his mask. ”Karl and his fascination for bunkers, taking going on the down-low to new heights . . . or depths.”

D13 > Safehouse

[Handsome Jack]

So, I'm heading north, looking to get ahold of one of the new items Karl's decided to throw our way, when my tablet beeps at me again. Taking a quick look, I see that in the next few hours, there's going to be more goodies for us to snag. And one of them is PREEEEEEEETTY damn close to me. I can't help but to smile. Considering how long it had been since the last drops were announced, they were probably all either grabbed, or being fought over. It'd be a waste of my time to head after them.

Putting my tablet back away, I turn on my heel to head back the way I had came. That's when I see it. Weird that I hadn't even noticed it before, really... the camera drone. Probably too lost in my thoughts. It HAS been a busy day. And a boring one. I give it a quick pose, flexing my... carapace masculinely. As I move to walk past it... *BRRRRZZZZT!*

“Oh no... Nononononono! No one ssaid a *beep*ing thing!? WHY?!”

Another body-rocking shock reminds me that Pops doesn't want me cursing anymore, and I come to the realization that... fuck me... I'm going to have to promote shit any time I look at a camera, huh? I sigh wearily and lock eyes on its lens (after a quick glance at my wrist to figure out just what I have to say). Oh wow. Them again? Fiiiiiiiine. Let's just make this quick.

“Drink Pepssi!” I shout as I stomp angrily away. Or I try to. A, comparatively minor, shock sends a fresh wave of rage through me. Guess that wasn't enough.

“Drink Pepssi! It'ss great! It'ss like a million hookerss having an orgy on your tongue while you do a line of blow off Kerrigan'ss asss.”

I wait a moment, and when I ain't shocked again, I assume that was good enough and continue on my way.

Moving from D3 to D6

[MADBULL34]

Sergeant Estes stood at the edge of the pool, watching the surf come in from the southern horizon. The sea breeze was blowing sweet and salty air among hidden currents of wind, and the policeman couldn't help but think this ruined resort was about as close to Paradise as he had ever seen.

Ever since coming into Corsucant, it had only been one concrete jungle after another. Sure, there were trees aplenty planted in perfect little rows, but these days, at least on the Fifth Tier, the only ones not withered and brown from neglect were the artificial, plastic monstrosities stuck in the ground to give the semblance of life in that sprawling metropolis.

“A perfect metaphor for the people livin’ there,” the Sergeant thought bemusedly to himself.

The lawman thought back to his deeper past, growing up in New York City's Bronx. Good ol’ NYC had had plenty of hot windy days like today, it was on the ocean after all, but Mad Bull honestly couldn't remember enjoying a pristine moment like right now. Sure, a super-powered weirdo could fly by any second now and splatter his brains with the quick beam of some ridiculous space laser, but was NYC really that different?

The city had Coney Island, which was also full of derelict resorts and beaches, and the more he reminisced he remembered it really couldn't have been any better. You couldn't take two steps in Coney Island without getting shanked by some deadbeat meth head, and the more Mad Bull thought about it, the more he realized that getting sliced in half by some cartoon ninja was ten times better than an agonizing death from the sepsis at the end of some junky's switchblade.

With a faint sense of melancholy, he rummaged among the litter and artifacts left near the pool. After a few minutes of digging he clutched a pair of swimming fins, a snorkel and foggy old goggles. The plastic was old and crackling and it's once whimsical colors bleached out by the sun after years of exposure. It wasn't exactly top rate equipment, but it'd have to do.

With his blue uniform unbuttoned and fluttering against his chest in the wind, Sleepy walked towards the beach.

Moving from D2 to D5

[Lord Zedd]

This was proving to be a huge mistake.

In an incredibly short window of time things had rapidly accelerated in Lord Zedd’s life. His arrival in the Danteverse had been near the end of the pre-show festivities, so the indignant warlord had been quickly ushered along to receive his supplies and equipment for this endeavor that he admittedly didn’t understand very well. Stunned and suffocated by the sudden crowd of people and their ant-like dedication to their specific tasks, Zedd had barely time for a word before he was shoved in another teleporter and sent to go cause great harm to total strangers.

Yet, as he stood up to his chest in saltwater, he could have sworn there was supposed to be an island, at least, to commit these unspeakable atrocities on. His fresh bag of gear was soaked and hopefully not completely ruined, but he wasn’t exactly in a situation to examine it. Something was making an obnoxious beeping sound from his pack, so he assumed that at least some electronic device had survived the bellyflop into this unexpected arena. What he needed was to find a place to investigate his goods that wasn’t borderline out of bounds. But if he was going to be dropped in such a terrible starting position, he could at least assume there was some sort of secure refuge nearby to offset it.

In the distance, something stood out ever so slightly. He couldn’t tell what it was from where he was, but he knew that it was something different than his current position. Zedd began to wade through the high water towards his first objective. He was filled with regret for this rash decision, but at this point he had no choice but to see it through. The dark lord would leave this island the only way he knew how: victoriously.

Moving from D13 to Safehouse D

[Handsome Jack]

Welp, back to the boring stuff. Just a whole lot of walking. Sand. Wind. Water. Birds. You know the shtick by now. More of the same, not a whole lot new. At least where I was, it was kinda jungley. But tablet said new item was gonna be dropping down in the water, so I'm going to the water.

Now that I'm paying attention to it, I can hear the soft 'wub-wub' of the camera floating behind me. Definitely ain't gonna open THAT can of worms back up. Yup. Keeping my eyes on the prize in front of me. Well... where the prize WILL be, at least. And not that I'd be able to see it from this far anyway.

Without a whole lot of other options to keep me entertained, I'd taken to keeping the tablet in my hands, rather than in my issued pack. It had quite a few little applications that could help pass the time. The Twitter and Blogging apps, while interesting, were DEFINITELY not anything I was going to play with. Not that I would mind letting everyone know just how perfect I was (even WITH this modifications Pops had put on me), but I was one hundred percent certain that I'd have to do a product spiel if I used them. And fuck that shit. I ain't doing any more of that unless I absolutely have to.

The other applications were pretty plain. One told me what time it was, another was a map of the island (which I had already been using to get from place to place). The last two applications were the reminder app, which had been beeping at me every time an item drop had occurred, and a internet video app. Well... THAT could help pass the time. I boot up 'Youtube' and in no time at all I'm having a blast watching cat videos and humorous songs about what foxes may or may not say.

Moving from D6 to D10

[Lord Zedd]

At last, some dry land.

Dripping water all over the place, Zedd entered the safe house and fell to a knee just beside the door. He dropped his damp rucksack from his shoulder and to the ground before him, so he could examine the exact contents he had been left with. The tools he had been given were laughably primitive, with the exception of the tablet nestled in the middle. Zedd pulled the device from the bag and looked it over, wiping several standing droplets of water off the screen as he did.

Despite being completely submerged, it still seemed to work just fine. He tapped a button to pull up the map of the island, and sure enough, he was on the outskirts. Blips and notifications appeared in various sectors, but he minimized the app for the time being. There was also an OmniTwitter application running, and when Zedd clicked on it he was shocked to see that some Syntech employee had set up an entire account for him. How they’d gathered enough information about him in such a short time to make a functioning profile was beyond him.

What really pushed his anger further was that there was already a tweet (a word he already greatly disliked) directed his way. It was a selfie (another infuriating term) of the four infernal stormtroopers the Empire had damned him to babysit. They were off duty, sitting in some bar amidst a large crowd and alcoholic beverages. The text underneath the picture merely read “Good luck, Graowr!”

Zedd growled at the disrespect as he shoved the tablet and other contents back into the bag. He would just have to show them, too. He stood up and slung the bag back over his shoulder, tightening the string so it wouldn’t go anywhere. This building had been nice for getting his bearings in, but he wouldn’t win standing around here. Zedd exited the Safehouse, disappearing back into flooded area where he’d begun this nightmare.

It was time to get to work.

Moving from Safehouse D to D13

[MADBULL34]

Sleepy sat on the sandy shores of the beach watching the ocean surf lap against the dunes. Far behind him from which he had came, one could see the abandoned resort and the dense tropical forest at the base of the highlands. So far for the burly sergeant best known for his penchant for violence and mayhem, the day had been quiet, almost serene really. Since he arrived he had not seen a single soul, although tracks and signs of life could be seen here or there.

There had been a moment even, back at the the resort, where he could feel the presence and foreboding threat of some immense power passing through. Perhaps it was just the paranoia of the game, perhaps a cop’s intuition. Whatever it was, it had sent a chill down the hard-boiled policeman's spine.

Whatever it was he passed, he saw only open ocean now and, faintly, the distant outline of the safe house out to sea. The sound of the surf gave him a sense of rare peace, a feeling he previously thought could only be found in the warm afterglow of an adult encounter with a willing dame.

The burly officer slowly undressed, savoring the breeze, and even intermittent rain, on his hairy bare skin. He tied his clothes and gear into a bindle and tethered it to his torso like a backpack, but first gave the electronic locator device he was issued one last check. The safe house was close, and considering that the bomb bracelet would cut him in half unless he made it there by nightfall, he figured he might as well start making his way there. Interestingly enough, it also looked like some sort of important item was in the vicinity. The island seemed wholly empty, it couldn't hurt to at least investigate the scene, right?

He donned the decrepit snorkeling gear he had stolen from the resort and began to trudge into the waters.

Moving from D5 to D9