Dante's Abyss Spectators

[Retane]

The Namekian awoke in a bed, his vision groggy only for a few seconds, till he realized he was in a hospital. He attempted to move but, his body wouldn't allow it as he gave into the to the pain. He let out a groan, which was alomost a growl as he realized he had been defeated. His eyes glanced around, hunting for some clues as to the results of his match but only could find his snickering partner, who laid just a few feet away from him.

"You look like you went through hell and got the t-shirt ." Wolfe was to the point.

"Haven't looked in a mirror lately have you?" Retane noted that he and his parter in the Abyss were both bandaged up wearing gown that hardly covered anything in regards to their healthcare.

"You should see the other guys." Victor Wolfe could only before he met Retane's qestioning gaze and shook his head, "Ha, no, we lost. However, on the bright side, they have some great pain killers, and said that are coming back with a new Syntech sythetic senzu bean that will have us up in a jiffy."

The Leader of The Horsemen looked down to his leg, frustrated that his body had given up to early. Perhaps his body wasn't as adjusted as he thought it was. Two years was a long time but still, he was a Namekian and expected his body to be much stronger. Perhaps it had weakened. Maybe he missjudged his foes. Or was it the dream he had had? He shook his head and couldn't think about that. Not here, and not now. He noticed that Victor was eying him curiously as if studying him. Luckily the nurse appeared, carrying two senszu beans on a small metal tray.

The Namekian reached out and grabbed them both, popping the first in his mouth and biting down hard a few times before swallowing. Moments later, he felt his energy being restored as well as his suffering slowly started to subside. He hadn't been sure about the whole 'synthetic' part of a senzu bean and felt since they came from his universe, he would know what if they did what they were suppose to do. He flung the second to his partner after he was satisfied, "Chew it up, you will be as good as new in no time."

Just as the nurse was about to call the Namek out for his rudeness, there was commotion from behind and a young Namek peered around the corner and looked around, "Excuse me. Could I- ummm- speak to father?"

The three turned their attention to young one and after the staff member glanced from Naturae to Retane and back she threw her arms up and nodded, leaving the room without saying a word. Victor remained silent a grin on his face as Retane's child approached nervously. The Emerald Fiend glanced at Victor, and noted that he had looked away after a moment and started to whistle and pay attention, or at least pretend, to a nearby monitor that was streaming the Abyss battles.

The Namek grunted, then realized he was probably speaking to her in the wrong way as a father and added, "What are you doing here alone? Where are the others?"\

She didn't have to speak because another loud bang happened, followed by a few shouts and Arith's voice being the loudest claiming, "It wasn't me!"

Naturae could only offer an innocent smile that seemed mixed with sadness. Retane looked deep in her eye's andcould tell that something was bothering her. He realized this was only the second time he had actually met her since she had been hatched, the first being not that long ago, and nearly shook his head at himself, "What is it? What is upsetting, Naturae?"

She grabbed his hand and after a few moments she spoke, "You flinched last fight, father! I saw it! You let your guard down and you let them beat you! I know you are stronger that that!"

Retane was taken aback, and even Wolfe turned his eyes to the spectacle as tears clouded the young Namekian's pupils and her vocals got even louder with each statement. "I watched it all, back then! I watched all the footage! i know I wasn't supposed to! I know you didn't want me to know but I did! I begged Airyonna to tell me everything when she came by to check in. I wanted to know who you really were! I heard the stories and I knew they were hiding it all! But, they told me most of it and I get it! Please don't be mad at Inirtias and Arith! They finally made it all clear to me!"

Retane threw his hand up to stop her, and gently wiped her tears from her eyes as he sat up and focused, white clothing appearing on his body as he forced a grin, the nicest he could force, and hopped off the fancy gurney and placed his hands on her head and focused, taking in all her thoughts. After a few seconds, it was her that wiped a tear from his eye. He grinned still unsure if his facial expression was correct, but her smile, told him that she was happy that he had tried.

"Are you sure about that?" Retane looked away for a moment, but it washer small hand that grabbed his face and forced him to look her in the face.

"Don't worry about us. Without you, we wouldn't be here. Even if it seems dark, I understand -we understand- that it is the natural order. You are our father, and we are round no matter what, but please don't hold back anymore. Just like tapped into my thoughts, I read some of your's too. But you need to make me promise that you will give it your all and not think about us anymore. You need to promise me that you got this. I promise I'll scream if I ever get in trouble and I know you will be there, but this won't happen here. I personally have a guard of twenty-four. So does Probitas.."

Retane nodded shaking his head, "Well, if you are sure..."

She nodded.

"Then it's done."

---

"Daughter of yours?'

Ret nodded.

"Looks like you." Wolfe could only grin. So what was said in that psychic stuff?"

Retane paused for a moment and grinned as he looked at his comrade, "She told me to fucking give into the Abyss and kill everyone and show them what it meant."

[Ricter]

The matches began to round down, one by one changing from what could be described as enthralled anticipation for the results of each match, to a stifling dullness on waiting for everyone to finish. In the mean time Ricter was making sure all his herbs and what not were added into his weapon for later, the way his sword worked was more so like a storage device, when needed he called on a mix of herbs and other things to more or less heal certain ailments. So right now as the matches rounded out, finishing, he noticed a few fights where skills were used that might call for some kind of medical treatment, which made his fluffy tail wag.

Yet the most exciting match for him seemed to be Marisa’s, probably because he actually knew her, even if it was just in a minor way he wanted to see her do well. Plus the weasel was very mistaken by the matches and how they lined up, if Marisa won she would get to fight with him and that would be fun. Excitement sparking when her own Master Spark was used against someone else who seemed to have the same attack. They knew one another? Or had the same skills? Odd, maybe they shared something more personal than just skills or abilities but Marisa fought hard.

Unfortunately it seemed that the other team had a much better set of powers, able to rival Marisa and her partner before finally they would be knocked out of the arena. His excitement turned into a dull sensation of disappointment, not for her but for what could have been, drawing a frown on his fuzzy cheeks. Everyone in that fight took a beating, but instead of worrying about what his opponents would be like, or how they would probably end up fighting against both himself and Cell he more so worried about Marisa’s health. Luckily he was the best doctor around, or so he’d be proud enough to say.

When the contestants began to come into the hall, they, like everyone else, enjoyed being bombarded by the press. Even had had a reporter talk to him, sure he was in a small funk about his own mental issues, but in a way he was glad to talk to someone, even Cell. Which his help was greatly appreciated. So splitting off from his partner as the large green bio-android was more interested in possible opponents, Ricter seemed to wait for Marisa to come down the hall from the teleporters. Catching her talking to a reporter while giving a fairly cocky show about what to maybe expect later but always keeping a smile, a respectable thing worthy of praise.

“Is this all you drink, Marisa?” Ricter said from behind as the weasel seemed to pop a seat right next to her, offering the mage some space while also noticing that she had ditched her partner to the collective info hungry press. Being polite he noticed her attire was lightly tattered, probably form the hits she took on top of the battle that seemed violent but not as violent as someone being chain sawed almost in half.

Even Ricter was surprised he was able to heal something like that but managed it well enough. “Are you alright? You got pretty hurt in that scuffle you had.”

“Oh, hey! Yeah nothing like a bit of alcohol to soften up the pain, I’ll heal though. How about you though? Got patched up?”

“Um not really, I didn't get too banged up, I mean- I did but I healed myself. Plus my partner almost got cut in half, luckily I fixed it for them.” An innocent smile plastered don his face like this was fairly normal, at least in his point of view.

The spark of interest seemed to be in the air around the two, encouraging a question to be brought up. “You can other heal people? Not just yourself?”

“Mhm, if your still feeling pretty messed up I can show you?” Offering, he placed his leather covered sword on the wood that held the drinks, giving off a heavy thump but little did she probably know this was his tool for offering a less painful experience to his patients.

Anyone would probably ask why do this when still in a competition? To him this was all for fun, something to do in his off time but learn from it all as well, plus he always found it funny to show people how he healed them. Typically they would freak out, which was always a riot, though he gave her the option to say yes or no to his offer.

Talking to Marisa

[Kopaka]

Kopaka considered the blue woman for a moment. A trade? He supposed that it made sense, but he had been expecting the vainglorious demon to be more forthright with her tale. The Toa pondered what he had to offer in return, then decided that what this woman really valued was liberty. While the biomech couldn't necessarily guarantee total freedom of movement within his jurisdiction, he did consider the possibility that he could get her out of potentially tight spots when the time came...and if he was available.

"Thou hast enjoyed thine incursions into Coruscant, yes? It is within my power grant thee limited..." Kopaka lifted his head slightly to catch Ash's blank, challenging eyes, "...limited amnesty from Imperial reprisal for any transgressions therein." the Toa said, his buzzing voice becoming slightly dulled by the growing ambience of the battered bar patrons. Ash's tail flicked pensively as she drained yet another tumbler.

"So I tell you my Underverse story and receive a get out of jail free card? How often? How..." Ash leaned forward, emphasizing the final word in parody of the biomech's gravitas, "...limited?"

But the enrobed figure was not looking at Ash anymore. His shadowed, glowing eyes had been turned towards the door, looking past the crowd and out through the courtyard at...something. A shiver of excitement ran through the biomech's body. He was here. The Mouse was just a few meters away from him. Excitement built within his chassis, the tickling adrenaline rush of a bobcat poised above the wren. No. No he mustn't lose control here. Besides, within the past few minutes, he had already gained a bountiful surfeit of biometric signatures that could be sniffed out at a later time. The wolf of darkness within him could wait; the objective was complete, and it was not worth tempting his own vice for carnage. Kopaka looked back down at Ash.

"We shall parley the specifics at later hour. For now, I must depart in deference for your imminent charnel contests." the biomech said softly, rummaging around in his cloak for something. A small slip of paper was held out to ash by a cold, metallic hand. There was a datavice contact number written on it. Ash delicately plucked the digits out of the frigid fingers with a slightly disappointed pout. She had been hoping for something a bit more exciting after all the effort this NPC had gone through to bother her.

"I'll think about it." Ash mumbled as the robed figure walked away. Her lapis lips drew into a somewhat concerned grimace as she turned back to the bar.

Meanwhile, Kopaka made his way to the transportation room, trying to brush elbows with as many of the contestants as he could manage. Half a dozen more registrations to his tracking software. Half a dozen more people to hunt down and slaughter. The biomech took a steadying breath as he crossed the courtyard, keeping a yellowed gaze on the singing mouse. His hand clench and relaxed in rhythmic fashion as the biomech fantasized about walking up and wringing the diminutive king's neck. Temperance. A long breath was blown out, manifesting as a cold breeze that caused Mickey to shudder. By the time he looked over his shoulder, however, the shambling, robed form of Kopaka was already slipping away into the portal room.

In time.

In time.

[Desman Black]

The pounding if the man’s head was furious, one of these days he needs to sit down and make the cure for headaches, but at the moment he was to busy trying to walk it off. He wasn’t even completely sure where he was, it looked like the facility, but did they go there after the fights? And what room was he in?

No, it was a hall…maybe he should rest for a bit… if his headache is that bad…

Opening the door he saw what he only assumed was other competitors getting needles, and bandages, and in pods… why was he so dizzy… he needed to get to one of the tables… need to seat… down…

And there the Boy fainted, his body hitting the ground, spread across the doorway.

[Bandit With No Name]

The woman nervously stacked a tumbler of whiskey onto the brown cafeteria tray, the glass clinking against the others that it joined. Champagne, red wine, vodka, a large diet soda, and some kind of tropical mixed thing with an itty bitty umbrella sticking out of the top.

She grasped the edge of the overfilled tray and gingerly lifted it with both hands, her eyes wide in focused terror for the fear of spilling everything. A nearby waiter have her an unsure glance and pleaded, “Again, I will happily carry your drinks for you.”

“Nah,” she replied, her laser focus not lifting from the drinks. “I wanna take it.” After she has held it for a few moments without it exploding, she looked up to him. “Ok, where am I heading again?”

“I last saw him around the central room, headed into the Teleporter room,” he carefully replied, glancing between her and the tray, imagining the mess he was about to have to clean up.

“Dope,” she shot back. She looked to the table of her compatriots, Caret rambling, Balanlara watching, and Kerrigan… was there. She barked out, “Aight dudes I'll be back in a bit. Be nice or whatever.” Caret waved enthusiastically, Balanlara nodded solemnly, and Kerrigan… was there.

It's not that Kerrigan wasn't nice. It's not that she wasn't present in every interaction that the two had. There was just something distant about her. Some inscrutable gulf that the marauder could never seem to vault. She probably just needed more time.

She turned and began to inch her way over the clean, white floors, the glasses rattling with every tiny step. She made it through the central chamber, everyone knowing well enough to avoid bumping into the hulking woman with spiked armor hunched over a platter of drinks as she crept amid them.

As she reached the spanning archway into the teleportation chamber, a man stopped just short of slamming into her. As she looked up to rip his whole ass head from his shoulders, her anger snapped to shock.

Purple suit, perfect hair, strong jawline, seemed like he needed to be somewhere.

“Oh, uh,” she stammered. “Yoooo, Karl.” She smiled awkwardly, still stooped protectively over the tray. “How's it, uh, going, dude?”

Karl’s momentarily shocked expression shifted instantly into a pleasant, advertiser worthy grin. “Ah, the Bandit!” he cheerfully replied, “Good to see you. I'm on my wa-”

“I was wondering if you, like, wanted to chill a sec and grab a drink?” she hastily interrupted him. She gestured with her cool to the massive collection of beverages she carried. “I didn't really know what you liked. Or what any of this is. So I just got a bunch of shit.”

He stood, almost frozen for a moment, as he proceeded the ridiculousness of the encounter. Then he plucked up the tall flute of champagne and held it up. “Then I say we drink to your victory!”

She grabbed the excessively boozy mixed drink and all but slammed the rest of the tray into a passing Syntech employee, the drinks sloshing everywhere as they took it from her with a bewildered expression.

She too raised her glass, then pounded her fist into his in an excessively forceful cheers. “Hell yes!”

He smirked and took a sip while she slammed the remainder of the iced drink, a free dabs of frozen yellow fruit juice and vodka spilling onto her chest plate. After finishing it off she exhaled contentedly.

He smiled and took another long, classy draft, staring at her in subdued entertainment.

“That was goddamn ama-” she cut herself off and held her hands to her head in pain, hunching over when it refused to relent.

“Brain freeze?” he quipped, chuckling softly. “Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth. It's because your upper palette got too cold too fast.”

She grunted and opened her eyes, then shook her head. “Ah nah,” she says, clearly fighting through the headache, “it's fine. Never felt better.” In an effort to top off her very convincing lie, she leaned against the wall with a single arm. “So what you up to?”

“Just keeping the show running,” he said with a sigh. “There's so much to keep going. You just can't get help these days.” Every word that fluttered from his mouth was laced with a heavy dose of comedic sarcasm and charm. He pointed with the glass in hand, “About to start looking over some of the round one footage, a few people are still finishing up their matches.”

“Damn, still?” she balked, “How long does pushing a dude off a ledge take? You don't even have to kill them.”

He chuckled as he began walking down the hallway, “Good programming is staggered.” The bandit grabbed two more drinks off the treat that she had pawned off on some host and followed after.

“What’d you think of me and Kerri out there?” She took a sip of the vodka and scrunched her nose.

He shrugged gently and sipped, taking a moment to stop and soon a piece of paper some assistant brought up to him. “Above average, I'd say. Kerrigan really shined out there.” He gave a reassuring glance back, “But you did well yourself.”

“Thanks! Yeah, Kerri is a fuckin’ beast. I like working with her.” She took a gulp of the rum and smiled, finding it more palatable. “I just got done with that Micky x Gil fight. Shit was crazy.”

Karl nodded, opening a door and peering into it. “It was delicious. Their history made that whole match pop. And Kanda’s partner placement couldn't have been any better. A king versus his own guard captain? The ratings have been outstanding.”

“And they both kick some serious ass on top of their, ‘I'm a good guy but also I'm confused about it,’ drama.” The woman tried to look over Karl's shoulder but he scoffed and closed the door.

He finished off his drink and handed it off to one of his aids who rushed up to take it from him. “You know, you could do for a little bit of drama yourself. Really help the viewership of your fights.”

Her eyebrows crunched up a bit as she thought. “Yeah, I remember most folks looking that kind of shit the best when I used to watch.”

He smirked and accepted the fresh tumbler of brown alcohol from the same person who had taken the last one from him. “Long time viewer?”

She shrugged, “I caught it now and then. Reception sucked out in the Dunes.”

“Ch,” he scoffed, “the signal in the Dunes is pristine. Your set must have been bad.”

She gave him a thuggish grin, “Well not everything holds up well in the back of a raid truck. Lots of stuff gets piled up. That probably did it.”

He sighed and turned, once again walking towards the main hall. “So I assume from you bringing me drinks and doing your best at idle chat that you aren't at this competition to murder me and send me to hell for the evils of broadcast television.”

She shook her head and polished off the rum glass, then starting on the vodka. “Nah dude, I fucking love what you're doing here. You're just having people that face literally no consequences murder each other. That’s not evil, it's just good fun.” She wanted her hand at the bustling sea of people around her, “And it's not like you're done kind of asshole putting secondaries through the grinder or something. These people are just working, and it's not even hard work. It seems like a lot of them even enjoy their jobs.”

A devilish grin spread on his face, but he quickly covered it with another drink. “You're not wrong.”

She stopped and turned to him, her face cast in deep sincerity. “Seriously. This is amazing. I love what you do. I love seeing you on the TV, I love seeing what you've done here. It's all really cool shit. I really admire you for this.” She laughed softly to herself, “I think I'd watch a show just about you now that I've got a phone to stream it on.”

He bowed slightly in a bit of performative graciousness and slapped her shoulder. “Well thanks, but the producer should always be in the background, never the star.”

She boomed out a laugh and slapped his shoulder back, causing him to lose his footing slightly. “Well you're always the star when I'm watching.”

He winked and pointed at her, “Hahaha, watch it there! Assault of a Syntech employee is grounds for disqualification!” He laughed sharply at his own joke, but it hung in the air with sinister notes of ambiguity about whether or not he was actually joking.

She chuckled back, glancing away awkwardly. “Yeahhhh, I'll be sure to watch that.”

“Well,” he said with a long exhalation, “I've got to get back to finishing up this round. Thanks for bringing me a drink.”

“Yeah, totally man. Would you, uh,” she rubbed the back of her head with Gildarts’ stolen fingers, “like to maybe hang later? I dunno, next round? If you don't have time, maybe after the tourney?”

His lips pursed, “Are you asking Karl Jak out on a date?” Cackling at his own joke for a moment, he pressed his hand into his chest in a grandiose gesture, “The only loving I need is from me.”

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. “Nah,” she said flatly. “Nahhhh. That would be… weird. I’m not into that kinda stuff. I'm all about like, crushing skulls and drinking booze and explosions and shit. You know. Cool stuff.”

[PepsiYuuka]

Yuuka really didn't care what her partner had to say about her habits. She was too stuck in her ways to change- and Whirda would only have to learn that the hard way. ...Or the easy one, if they were given a moment of peace amongst the reporters.

The media wasn't a new thing to Yuuka in any fashion- the Tengu in Gensokyo were fiends at reporting every last shred of a story they could get their talons on, no matter how made up. So one could imagine that Yuuka did not particularly enjoy their presence around her. In her mind the best way to deal with them was to confuse them, though the method by which she accomplished that varied. In Gensokyo that was typically accomplished by "not doing anything interesting." Here, well...

Like it or not, blood sports were interesting.

So, with cameras aimed at her, microphones roughly shoved into her general vicinity, and perhaps half a dozen people crowding around her, she took in a deep breath to deal with it. With a look of utter dismay on her face, she glanced about the "reporters." Of course, most of them looked horrendously disreputable. One of them she even doubted was a sentient being- perhaps some sort of automated news machine? She didn't know. Too far behind the times.

"Miss Kazami, what are your thoughts on your win?"

"Nice."

"You mentioned some interesting things during the fight- it seems you have some history with Miss Kirisame."

"Oh, yes. Very tragic past, us. Unforgivable sins, sleepless pursuit of justice, et cetera, et cetera. Quite a long story."

The "long story" was approximately a sentence long and went something along the lines of "she broke into my house, stole some of my garbage and punched me," of course.

Interest now piqued, the reporter stepped forward a bit, twinkle in his eye.

Thankfully, at this point, a Syntech employee stepped forward as well, between the uncomfortable pair and the paparazzi. "Now folks. Let's let these two get healed up and rested before asking any more questions. There will be plenty of time afterwards."

She shot a glance at the two still-injured women and nodded, beckoning them off into a side room behind fenced off lines to the cacophony of disappointed newsies.

Said room was decorated in a utilitarian fashion- everything off white, two futons, a man in a lab coat flipping through some tablet-like device as he waited. He seemed to jump as the injured fighters entered, though more at how sudden it was than seeing them. Working here, he had to be used to such injuries, after all. With another curt nod, he pointed each of them to one of the futons. "Right, sit on down for a moment and we can discuss the specifics of your healing."

Yuuka, for her part, took this opportunity to take a seat eagerly- letting out an enormous sigh the moment her butt hit the mattress. Were she a less strong willed woman, she had a feeling she would pass out and fall asleep right there on the spot. "What specifics?"

"Oh- simply what method of healing is most comfortable for you."

"What do you have?"

"Just about any-" The man paused as he caught a glance at something on that device of his and cleared his throat. "W-well... Can I interest you in an ice cold Pepsi?"

[Taloc]

There is always a strong satisfaction with a job well done. Looking across the burning buildings, elation fills my body. Dead and dying lie strewn across the streets, many of which still bears the signs of my handiwork, though my forces were rather thorough with the rest. Shame really, watching others do the killing just isn’t the same.

*tick tick chatter*

“My my. That sounds like survivors,” I gloat loudly, already heading towards the noise. “I hope they don’t think they can hide in this alley over here. I would hate to destroy their last sanctuary, after all.”

Slowly rounding the corner of the burning house, I reach behind my back and draw the blackened steel dagger, letting it glint wickedly in the firelight. There, standing defiantly in the center of the alley was a small boy, surely no more than ten, though at least he had enough sense to have a scrap piece of wood. Watching his knuckles grow white from gripping that board, his black eyes burn with hatred as he glares back at me.

“Run,” He says softly. “I’ll hold him off.”

A younger girl bolts from a small niche in the wall. Ah, a hero. I can’t help but grin as I stroll forward, rolling my beloved dagger along my knuckles as I approach. Killing a hero is always a true pleasure, one worth savoring.

The boy's eyes start growing darker, the black iris expanding out across his eyes with crimson streaks dancing and pulsating throughout. His small body shakes as he grips the wood tighter. Blood starting to drip from the bottom of the plank hits the dirt floor as our eyes finally meet.

“Why,” The boy asks softly, his voice shaking almost as much as his body. “Why did you side with them? Why did you kill my family!?”

“Oh, do you hate me, little boy? You really shouldn’t take it personally, you know. After all, I only really did it for the fun of it.”

I know all too well that my glee was practically dripping off my tongue, though I really wouldn’t have it any other way. Seeing the fire spark across his eyes is always worth it. Watching him forget about death, forget about hope, forget about escape… And seeing that roaring hatred directed towards me.

Not bothering to hold back my trembling excitement, I gently raise my hand and curl my finger. As if on cue, the boy charges forward, the board held high and screaming. Such a thrill…

Stepping out of the alley, I casually wipe the blood from my dagger before tossing the soiled rag back over my shoulder. Loud footsteps signaled the coming of my lieutenant, long before he came into sight. I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t assigned him for stealth.

A hairy blue brute steps out and around a house, his snout raised into the air a moment before noticing me. His thin pronged tail sways gently behind him as he approaches, causing small tremors through the ground with each hooved step he takes. Crossing his tree trunk of an arm over his chest he tilts his massive horned head towards the west, the girl just now passing out of sight.

“My Lord, what shall we do about the girl?” He rumbles.

“Let her go. She’s clearly heading to Koro. Let them know I’m coming.” Butterflies well up in my gut as I think of their faces, a small chuckle manages to escape my lips before I school myself to silence once more.

“As Lord Taloc wishes.”



Taloc bolts upright, looking around wildly. Smooth metallic walls, white fabric, two people in long gowns, sterile smell. Hospital.

‘Right, I just lost a match…’

The two people, nurses most likely, rush forward, trying to calm him down before he does something rash, just to be met by an outstretched hand. “It's ok… I’m sorry to have startled you. Just… A bad dream. At least… I hope it was a dream...”

The nurses look at each other before nodding, one turning to leave. The other comes closer, reaching forward and taking Taloc’s outstretched arm and feeling it in several areas. “It’s alright dear,” she says softly. “After a fight like you just had its no real surprise that it jogged something loose. You were good as dead when you were brought into here, don’t ya know. Lucky you, we have the very best of care. Got you all patched up, good as new!”

Taloc looks down as she releases his arm. Sure enough, even his clothes seemed to be patched up. No pain whatsoever. His jaw goes slack as he starts feeling his chest, causing the nurse to chuckle.

“You’re free to go whenever you wish, dearie,” She says happily. “The doorway is right over there and to the left. Oh, and before I forget, a girl came in a few moments ago asking after you. Purple hair, quiet sort. Said she’d wait for you at the park. If you follow the signs, you really can’t miss it.”

With one last smile, she bows slightly and leaves the room. Taloc sits there a moment, trying to comprehend what all he had just heard. Probably would’ve been easier if he had enough time to look around this facility before being warped away into a fight. Seriously, one second Hayaidesu was there in front of him, somehow having gotten here before him, and the next he was thrown up against some kind of demonic strength.

That thought gave him pause as a faint memory drifts back to him. An assault on a demon fortress… Getting beaten senseless by the first grunt to bother facing off against them… That Bandit had strength similar to what he had faced off against back then… Maybe, just maybe, this Omniverse was a blessing in disguise.

‘If I can get stronger, there’s a good chance I can actually face off against them when I go back. Maybe there’s more to what I can do than to just die for my…’

The dream flashes before his eyes once more before he pushes it away. ‘There’s no point in thinking about any of that if I can’t do anything about it yet.’

Swinging his legs off the bed, Taloc stands up and checks himself over. Weapons, cloak, even his mask was on his hip once more. With a small sigh, he pulls his mask free and secured it across his face once more, already feeling a bit more comfortable with this strange world. The only thing left to do is to find Hayaidesu. Probably should find Makoto as well. If they are to continue through this tournament, it would be wise to start working out a few plans.

Already lost in thought, Taloc leaves the medical ward and heads towards the park.

[Yu Kanda]

Kanda wandered around the spectator's facility. No sign of Mickey or Gilgamesh anywhere. They either didn't want to be found or got taken to a separate facility by Syntech to avoid another Nippur incident. Whichever the case, the exorcist was on his own for now. The punished body of the warrior was aching all over; the king's demonic form had been more powerful than he could've ever anticipated. Impressed by its strength, disgusted by its source. It was more clear to him now than ever before; demonic influences continuously rotten the world around him. Whether it’s the Omniverse or back home, the story is always the same. Meaning the answer remains the same, demonic genocide. After seeing what happened to a good man like Gilgamesh the exorcist had a damn good idea where to start his crusade. But one thing at a time, now he had to regain his strength; after his bout with the King and his man-bat, Kanda was in desperate need of that famous Syntech healing.

Dragging his battered limp arm with him, Yu got irked by the fact that when he needed the Syntech pests they are nowhere to be found. Behind him, drops of blood left a clear trail upon the former clean latex floor.  “Hey, Bratha- you gonna clean da’ up or wha?”  A thick Jamaican accent echoed through the hallway Kanda was roaming.

The victorious warrior turned to see a rather unusual Syntech employee, smoking what seems to be not-a-cigarette. The smoke that left his thick, dark-skinned bottom lip rose up to where most of it vanished in his dense bush of dreadlocks. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Mi? Me be one o’ Karl’s Syntech people.” He smiled, revealing a set of shiny gold teeth while pointed at the logo on his shirt. “I be here to take care of you, my brethren. So tell’me, what ails you bratha?”

The exorcist’s stoic face remained unchanged, his eyes shifted from his mangled shoulder back to the unconventional employee. Unsure whether he was singing or talking, the exorcist kept quiet. “Yu be needing some healing then eh? I got just the thing.” From his pocket, he took a strange green bean and flipped it over to the Prime.

Kanda caught it mid-air, “A magic bean? You’re kidding me right?” Closing his fists he crushed the senzu bean to grains of green dust slipping through his fingers. “Not my style- Now where can I heal up.”

The Jamaican’s shattered laugh echoed throughout the empty hallway, “ Hahaha, yu are a stubborn man ain't ya? There be some rejuvenation baths down da hall, big white door. Ya can’t miss it. Yu be takin care o’ you’self, brethren.” Karl’s lackey sends him off. The remarkable collection of weirdo’s this man seems to be able to put on his staff keeps surprising Kanda. Alas, he had what he needed; a place to lick his wounds and gather his thoughts with some peace and quiet.

The hinges of the door squeaked as Yu pushed them open. The warm steam pressed against his face- like a tropical heat it engulfed the prime, opening up his pores by simply being present. Through the steam, he noticed two round shaped hot tubs filled with a light emerald colored liquid. The lights at the bottom of each tub illuminated the room, coloring the haze of mist lingering throughout the chamber the same shade of green. A lingering, soothing aroma dug itself deep in the prime’s nostrils, calming his nerves with every breath of air filling his lungs. Yu closed his eyes, the atmosphere in the room alone already had a healing effect on the prime. It must be one of Syntech’s hidden gems seeing as he was alone- the solitude was most welcome. It was simply perfect for him. Leaving his torn shirt on the floor Kanda lowered himself into one of the tubs, the warm water reached up to his stomach before sitting down. The oddball in the hallway wasn’t kidding, his wounds started to regenerate at an unusually fast rate.

“Relax bratha, it’s my own special brew. Yu be feeling liberated in no’time” The exorcist could hear the voice, but not see it’s source. But, he did not care, a new form of calm took over his mind. He laid his head back against one of the pillow-like cushions embedded on the edge of the tub. The mind of the warrior rewind back to the battle fought. Realising how he fought Gilgamesh, a man he swore to protect, with lethal intent. Something that the King probably won’t take as a minor offense- a problem for another time. Whatever this herbal aroma was it allowed Kanda to let this kind struggle go. It was a genuine concern, would he be expelled from Nippur for raising his sword, or would his intentions be recognized as an act of bravery? Only time would tell.

There was still the matter of his partner, the enemy of Nippur. The -so-called- mouse of destruction. Kanda was aware of the stories and history both primes had, what happened in the past in the now revived city. Teaming up with Mickey might not have been his choice, but fighting side to side with him was. Once all of this was over, he would probably have some things to answer for. So many issues, it was, however, so difficult to care when you’re this relaxed. The worries of the primes slowly drowned in the mysterious aroma of the medical bathhouse. Consciousness started to merge with the dream world as his mind drifted off.

The voodoo-esque voice echoed off in the far-far distance, “Dive in dat deep ‘n dark waters of your soul, Bratha. Yu’ll find dem answers dere.”

[Harley Quinn]

When I opened my eyes again, I found a glaring white light shining into them and blurred the world around me. My eyes finally adjusted as I lay in a sterile room filled with medical equipment. How did I end up in the hospital?


A lovely lady in a white uniform appeared at my bedside, carrying a tablet device. With a sweet smile, she handed me a small plastic cup and held out her hand. "Miss. Quinzelle my name is Mary, and I am here to make sure you are healthy for your next match." She paused, then placed a small bean in my hand before continuing, "I need you to take this and I promise you will feel a lot better." 

She was right; I did feel better. It was almost as if I had never been hurt at all, and my skin was still the pristine, chalk-white it had always been. There was not even an ounce of pain left from the stinging poison that plagued my eyes just moments before.   

I lost to a tiny Tamagotchi and the coach of the Quidditch team. How utterly pathetic. I hate losing; I hate it more than anything, and the fact that I lost by an out of bounds assault is fucking lame.

There’s no out of bounds on the streets Cerise; you won't be so lucky next time!  

If it weren't for the jolting sensation of pain with the taste blood that followed I would have broke. Biting my tongue always had been the way I hid my distress from Mr. Jay.  Even so, disappointment bubbled up inside me, and my face grew hot from the tears I held back. 

"Your vitals look back to normal, and it looks like you are cleared to go. How are you feeling?" 

Worthless. Pathetic. Hungry. "I am fine thank you, Mary, you are a wonderful medicine woman," I said as I started to rise up, out of the hospital bed.  Thank the heavens she snapped me out of it. I was so lost in my own bullshit, I didn't even see her roll up on me.

As soon as I left the room, I ran into a dozen people outside. People flashing their cameras and a few with microphones, all rushing me with questions. "Harley! Harley! That was a fantastic fight you had there with Gildarts and Cerise! How are you feeling?"

Had it not been for me having emotionally worked through my loss, I would have started swinging on them. "The fight could have been bloodier," I said looking dead into the camera in front of me, "I am feeling a little lousy that we lost to those goons."

The reporters looked shocked, and many started to pen furious notes on their devices. One of them pipped up, and boldly asked me "Well, Gildarts is known as one of the strongest contestants in Dante's Abyss, surely you didn't think you would win?"

I gave a sly look at the reporter and chuckled, "That guy is one of the strongest people here? He seemed pretty easy to me, and if that is the case, I am ready to go toe to toe with the next one."

Vibrations from my dataverse device broke my star-struck trance, and the familiar face of Marty brought a joyish smile on my face. Telling the press I had to take it, I rushed off towards a sitting area.  Picking up the phone I heard comforting bar music and the bellow of my meathead friend. 

"Harley, fucking, Quinn.” his voice brought a smile to my tired lips. “I didn't know you to have it in you like that," Marty exclaimed, then he told me that my fight had everyone at the club sitting on the edge of their seats. Even though I lost, patrons began placing bets on me for the next round. I was obviously doubting myself and my ability to win a fight, but my buddy ol pal always had the best things to say. 

"Listen squirt you kicked ass out there. When you came at Gildarts with fire and brimstone you had the whole club cheering." He kept me grinning ear to ear. "You know I placed a bet on my man Sasuke because the champ finally showed up this time around, but I have money on you for the next one! So, don’t let me down," he said playfully before sounding serious, "you know how much I hate losing money!"

Friends are something I don't really have in this world right now, so I took what Marty said to heart. I swallowed hard before responding, "I promise, I won't let you down again."

"At-a girl," Marty said and then ended the call.

It was then that I noticed Jibril, off in the distance talking to more nosy reporters. I won't let my teammate down next time either, I told myself as I approached her. The reporter was asking her something mid-question when I appeared next to her. Cameras everywhere flashed to get us together.

"What are you and your teammate going to do to win next round?" a reporter questioned while holding the microphone closer to Jibril. 

"Next time we will fight without mercy," Jibril said cooly and excited the reporters. After a few more shots and a few more questions, the group eventually disbanded and were chasing the tails of other contestants. 

I noticed Jibril was still bleeding and had blood dripping from the top of her beautiful fuchsia hair.  "Hey, have you been to the Doc yet?" I asked, concerned for her well being.  Jibril shot me a scorned look before responding, "A mere Immanity Doctor, they rely on natural healing and merely cover wounds with bandages. That won’t help for one such as me." 

With quite the startle, a stranger's voice echoed down a dark hallway, "If ya not looking for meds, den ya need to get wet. Take a dip, ya mam."

Jibril didn't seem to like surprises and she called angrily back at the stranger "Who dares to speak to me from the shadows? Show yourself!"

A dark-skinned man smoking some kind of cigarette revealed himself to us. "I just a lowly Syntech employee mam, offering a service to ya." 

"What kind of service would that be exactly," Jibril asked abrasively.

"We got wondaful bath houses here, my mam," he said before pointing further down a dim-lit hallway, "da wata will replenish your soul, and heal ya body."

The islander was right, the water at the bathhouses was refreshing. Eucalyptus and other exotic spices filled my lungs, instantly relaxing me.  Warm herbal water washed away every tight and sore muscle in my body. Jibril was stunning in the water as well, and it was tough for me to respect not ogling at her voluptuous body. 

For the longest time, I thought we were completely alone until I noticed a man, lounging in the back of the bath. His stare was cold and calculated, but he did his best not to show he was directly looking. There was something about his demeanor that interested me, most male competitors would have made their appearance known if they were the only ones in a bath with two babes. Lucky guy.

I made Jibril aware of the man before I swam over, closer to him. "Do you come here often?" I asked him playfully. 

The man appeared to be unimpressed and maybe a little annoyed that I approached him. He took a short pause before answering, "I try to not get injured to the point of needing to heal in a bathhouse, so no."

He seemed to cool with his dark hair and his moody, squinty eyes. I knew there was something up with him and I intended to get to the bottom of it. "How bad is the other guy?" I quipped.

The expression on his face made a slight change and his eyes lowered, "he lost, unfortunately."

I couldn't help but laugh at what this guy said, "Unfortunately? You know this is a competition, right?"   

The stranger's lips pressed into a hard line before responding quickly, "I am aware, the man I fought was king."

Yikes, nobody told me anything about kings being around and that sounds like a lot of dramaI thought to myself. 

"I fought with honor, my kind demanded it, but that is why I am here now, in this bathhouse." 

It seemed the longer I stayed in this competition, the more interesting it got. I had to know more about this mysterious winner. I decided to make with a formal introduction to the man and held out my right hand for a shake, "My name is Harley Quinn, it's so nice to meetcha."

[Marisa Kirisame]

As Marisa needed a way to take her mind off the fight even for a few moments she agreed to the weasels offer to show her how he heals people. "Entertain me then Ricter." Her smile widened slightly as she was done playing around and the fight with Yuuka had almost killed her, and that was the real point of interest. Ricter nodded as he unsheathed his sword and jabbed it into the witch who's eyebrows raised up a little bit in surprise but was for the most part alright with the turn of events.

She chuckled as the superficial wounds were healing themselves in front of her eyes. "That is quite the tool."  She shrugged before letting go of the alcohol. "I have worries about my next fight. I guess I'm scared for the potential abrupt end to my life. While my life has always been in some level of lethal danger I've always dealt with the knowledge there was always a buffer for me to stay safe. Here though there is no such buffer." Her smile faltered for a moment, enough to show her true feelings about this, and how it brought her back down to earth.

"in any case these are just some ramblings from me." She looked away rubbing her hands together as she was in a state of internal turmoil that was thinly veiled behind her smirk. If she couldn't beat Yuuka even with one of her strongest attacks then her chances were looking pretty slim. Marisa Kirisame sighed as never before had she ever faced an opponent she couldn't fight and win with some true knowledge that she had a chance; then Yuuka just had to go and crush that grounded knowledge for the magician in black and white to dust which made her angry more than anything.

"All my life I have worked harder than anyone I know to get to where I am now. Then this Omni fellow comes along and dumps me into a world where my achievements mean nothing and I must work from the bottom again. At least twenty years I have worked nonstop as an apprentice to Ms. Mima then as a competent magician working to further my craft and my knowledge, and yet its all for naught when I can literally summon anything I so desire with omnilium." Her body was getting mad at the thought of Omni making a fool out of her research and life and she hated it.

Marisa red faced and angry grabbed her alchohol and started to drink from it clearly frustrated with her situation. "I mean i'll continue my research but it's just that knowing that any work I may do is subverted by ones imagination is annoying. Magic is supposed to be rooted in laws and rules among other things, and not this unreliable system. You get what im saying?" She looked at Ricter as if she was looking for his truthful answer to her rant.

[Victor Wolfe]

"Give in to the Abyss huh? Well if that is what it takes to prevent sharp objects going through my back and chest then I think you may have the right idea buddy! Next time though, if there is a girl, I call dibs." The assassin grinned as he chewed the senzu bean, his energy swelling up as his already powerful healing rate began to kick into overdrive, within a few seconds he felt like a brand new man. 

His eyes were drawn to a commotion at the door as the red-headed man-child drifted in, hardly able to stand, after a few seconds of his pain induced stupor he finally collapsed in the doorway. It was clear to anyone observing that he had suffered in his fight with the guard captain and the mouse, despite having their King as a partner and thus being guaranteed a victory. 

Deciding that he wanted to see just how badly Candy and the murder mouse had suffered Victor flicked open his Dataverse device, something was wrong though, the result screen was clearly malfunctioning, next to Goldie's name was an L, where there should have been a W. In fact, it seemed that this event was not progressing as smoothly for the New Babylonians as it should have been. loss after loss piling up.

"Just, give me a while, I am going to, train!" The assassin growled, his red eyes looking all the more menacing as he stood up, a renewed sense of purpose in his stride as he grabbed one of the senzu beans from a nearby table. This was all some sort of nightmare, no couldn't be, it felt all too familiar, the feeling of watching his faction mates fall one by one. His heart was racing as his blood began to boil. 

It had to be the boy's fault, there was no way that his King could lose to a mouse that had to fuse to be able to beat him the last time, The boy must have failed to best the guard captain and thus cost Goldie the entire bout. As the leader of New Babylons diplomatic branch, this insult would not be tolerated. The Assassin deciding that the kid was not going anywhere anytime soon the assassin noticed his pants, still stained in a mixture of Saiyan and his own blood lying next to his bed. Slipping them on and once again returning to perpetual shirtlessness Victor stalked towards his unsuspecting prey. 


Kneeling down next to the gingers face Victor reached out and gently rubbed it, eventually turning into light slaps on the cheek until he finally stirred from his pain coma. 

"Oh Desmen my poor little boy, you clearly need to clean out your ears because it would seem that my words fell on deaf ones. So let me make this perfectly, crystal clear so that even a simpleton like you could understand." Victor whispered into the boy's ear, his tone quiet but sinister. 

"If you cost His Royal Highness King Gilgamesh another fight in this tournament, and you so happen to die in that bout, then it may be for the best that you just stay dead because if I hear one tiny report, rumour, or sighting of you in any of the verses. I will find you, and I will do things to you so horrible not even the smiling child that this world calls a god would be able to fix the damage done to your mind and body!"  As Victor finished his threat he once again leaned back from Desmans ear, slipping the senzu bean into his mouth and moving his jaw to force him to chew, the magic already taking effect as the cyborg's eyes already seemed more responsive. 

"Now don't take that as a sign of kindness I just wanted you to feel this!" Victor smirked as he stood up, his foot swinging back and launching itself forward as he smashed into Desmens ribs a satisfying crunch as Desman gasped in pain from the sudden well-aimed strike at his core as his body rolled out of the doorway, he could not kill the boy yet, but that at least was satisfying for his bloodlust.

"God that felt good! Looks like its time to go see how everyone else is doing!" Victor stormed off. 

Vic is free to interact with anyone

[Yu Kanda]

Drops of water fell back into the reservoir when Kanda lifted his hand out of the healing liquid to meet Harley’s. Wrapped his hand gently around hers with a firm grip yet not too tight. The soft skin did not feel as that of her warrior but the soul behind her daring eyes spoke to Yu like an open book. He was well aware with eyes like hers. This was a strong woman, able to hide it pretty well. “The name is Kanda, pleasure.” He finally spoke up, releasing Quinn’s hand after an eye-locking handshake. Her true intentions were any man’s guess but for now, in this atmosphere, it didn’t really seem to bother Yu all that much.

The blonde sat down not to far from the Exorcist, eyes never leaving his general direction. “Pleasure is all mine, Sugar. So what’s this about beating a King? I’d love to hear more.” The inquiry continued. Harley leaned back, wet arms stretched out over the edge of the tub revealed the artwork that covered her skin. However, it was not all that was revealed; even though the haze created by the steam blurred the exorcist’s vision, it would appear Ms.Quinn did not see the signs the good folk of Syntech put up. Before answering her question, as well as actively avoiding eye contact, Kanda nudged his head towards a sign.

All guests are required to wear appropriate bathing suits at all times.

Jibril noticed the man’s subtle movement, slowly sinking deeper into the water after she was made painfully aware of the situation. Her face gaining a more clear shade of red. She shot a death glare over at the swordsman—Sending a non-verbal warning to not look anywhere near her direction.

Harley herself did not seem bothered by the message at all, she remained in the same vulnerable position, covered by the water and fog. “Well?” She pressed on.

Averting his gaze the exorcist to tell his story, “Karl, our most gracious host, partnered me up with the King’s oldest rival from the Omniverse. After which they thought it would be amusing to have us face off in the first round.”

Harley nodded, following the prime’s story with great interest. ”uhuh”

“It was with heavy heart I learned of Gilgamesh’s condition—his demonic curse revealing itself for everyone to see.” Kanda let out a deeply troubled sigh. “You can clearly see the irony in me; his guard and an exorcist stood on the other side of the arena. Being forced to chose there and then what to do, with his enemy standing beside me. I’m positive the fallout of this event will be, unpleasant to say the least.”

“But you beat his ass, yeah?” The blonde inquired with a wide grin on her face.

Kanda chuckled, “Only because of my partner, without him having my back I’d probably be dust.”
“So you're on to the next round of this circus?”

The exorcist nodded, “I am, however, I am currently in doubt whether or not to continue this now senseless fight. That's why I came here, to gather my thoughts.”

“Oh sugar, you can't quit while you’re ahead. Especially now that I know [i]you’re[/] playing the game. Mamma want’s a piece of that exorcist ass.” The playful prime smiled the widest of smiles, masking a somewhat concerning intend behind it.

Kanda decided to play along,“You sure about that? Wouldn’t want to hurt a pair of women like yourself for a simple competition.”

“That’s adorable— thinking you could hurt us. I won’t burst that pretty little bubble of yours.” Harley winked coyly towards him as she turned around, now floating belly down. She was either taunting the exorcist or just not caring at all. The latter seemed the more probable.

The mist seemed to thicken as time continued, visibility was nihil. It wasn’t long before he was barely able to see Harley. Jibril, who was sitting on the other end, already vanished from sight. Whether it was the person or the aromatic scents provided by the suspicious Syntech employee, Kanda did not seem to mind their company at this point. For now, he allowed the healing waters to do its job and mend the wounds.

[Ricter]

Sliding his sword from out of her body the tinge or sensation of something occupying a space that shouldn’t inside of her would fade eventually once it was placed away. It was an odd sensation, one where most people were not ready for it, and were more so just surprised half the time given no one enjoyed being stabbed at all. Though by the looks of it Marisa seemed lax to it, if not just having something else on her mind, something that in her slight annoyed state she would address openly to him.

He had worries too, he honestly wished he was up against Marisa, that way it would be fun, he wouldn’t have to fret on the battle coming up. It would have been something to enjoy, but now he didn’t know, maybe Marisa would be able to come back in the tournament but for all he could tell she might just die and he loathed the thought of that. Of someone killing her for the sake of their own twisted thoughts and wishes, especially in the case of a fight that would allow anyone to leave the grounds if they had lost, but only if the winners thought I was ‘fair’ to let them live.

Frowning he would follow her statement on her personal feeling with his own, lulled eyes and his expression betraying his own guilt towards the aspects of the tournament.

“I know what you mean, I haven’t died yet here, in this realm, or in any of the others that consist of this place. But I’m always in a state of anxiety when it comes to thinking about that, that if I die it doesn't mean much, and if anything I’ll come back but at the same time death isn’t pleasant, never has and probably never will be. I know my next match will be really hard, but I hope you get as far as possible Marisa, and that you don’t end up dying from the result of petty sport.”

Finishing his little counter statement he let her talk some more, sharing her personal feelings again but on a new subject, magic, and Marisa's own personal goal to become a better magician over all. How she worked so hard for everything to just become ‘reset’ on entering into this realm, however Ricter was slightly the opposite in some minor ways, he didn't have as much power as he did here from where he came from.

Secondly, he felt like he could do anything he if tried before, if he worked hard enough, now everything is almost given to him, which made him indifferent about the whole allure of adventure and exploration. Wanted something? Just find a Prime willing to imagine it up out of thin air for you, which was neither healthy nor a very good way of handling what could be a volatile economy.

He would give her a nod, “I see what you mean, even from where I come from rules were in place for magic to not be abused, the rules helped shape everything, made things balanced. I can’t say that when I got here I wasn’t thinking I was a demi-god with the power to create life and objects just with some focus and a little imagination. It was daunting, I didn’t ask for such powers. I’d rather earn it, which sounds like how you feel, Marisa.”

Looking at the alcohol that Marisa was drinking he was beginning to feel a bit parched himself, licking his mouth with his flat yet longer than average tongue but would try to stay on the topic. “I enjoyed finding plants, items of power, and other trinkets all to add to what I could maybe do, all pretty much void if I can think it up if I have even a vague idea about what it is. However-..” He paused before speaking again.

“In a way this place gives people who had very little, Primes who were as normal as can be, the chance to do something they never could before. The prospect of infinite growth, power, and abilities that could never have been seen before by another person. Its intoxicating, more so than what your drinking, and I can understand your annoyance but there are good and bad parts to every thing unless something is so heinous that there is no bright side to it.”

Giving his own point of view Ricter saw this place like a double edged sword, if someone was strong enough they could probably take over everything, ushering in a life time of salvation and peace or pain and torment. He hated the responsibility being a Prime gave him, but he didn’t abuse it, at least not in ways that violated his own morals and ethics, he used his power to heal others and that’s why he did this. Why he rarely focused on making grand attacks and over powering offensive spells.

His goal was to cure diseases, so the more he focused on that the more he felt that he didn’t have to foll into the same corner as some other Primes who’s only goals were conquest, power for the sake of power.

[Pennywise]

Practically dead on her feet from exhaustion, Shantotto meandered in the middle of the hallway leading up to the barracks. One petite hand was planted on her hip, the other still holding her fruity drink. A dour look had crossed her otherwise regal features, giving the tiny mage a rather intimidating image.

It'd taken her a hot minute to locate Pennywise after the dingy clown had slunk out of the barroom, but she wasn't about to let the show of jeopardizing unhelpfulness that had gone down in the arena go unanswered!

"Do all monsters like you cower after one fight that's gone a little sour?" Shantotto asked, frowning at a nearby air conditioning vent.

An unintelligible hiss emanated from the vent in reply. It seemed to rattle the entire thing, the solid metal grates fluttering like loose window shutters during a windstorm.

Shantotto was not impressed.

"Come out of there this instant, clown," she demanded, leaning forward to peer into the darkness within the vent. "Or else I'll do much more than frown."

Squinting, Shantotto could just barely make out the somewhat illuminated outlines of Pennywise's costume ruffles. The whimsically-layered fabric was bunched up around Its shoulders like a lion's mane, baleful and blue in the low light. Its limbs were contorted oddly and strained against the metal walls, spindly arms caging around Its gut and legs somewhere over Its head— probably the only way something of such great size could jam Itself into a space so small. Two yellow eyes glittered back at her through the grate, round and owlish.

"Nooooooooooo-OOo..." Pennywise whined, and here she could see the slightest flash of teeth. "Go away."

The short mage heaved a great sigh. "Snarling at me isn't going to send me away. If you want me to leave you should come out and have your say."

A growl emanated from the shadows, deep and croaky like a disgruntled amphibian. Despite this, a set of clawed fingers emerged from between the grates, grasped at the square-shaped vent cover's edges, and summarily wrenched it open with a hair-raising metallic screech.

Pennywise clambered out in Its typical spidery fashion, greasepaint-covered skin warping and bones crackling out a disturbing metronome all the while. It snuffled mightily at the little mouse once It was finally free, nose crinkling in puzzlement.

"Is something the matter? Other than the obvious, we've no time for idle chatter." Shantotto prompted, staring up at the clown's cheerily-painted face. Even when crouched down from crawling out of the ventilation system, the creature towered over her.

"Mmmm, yeee-es?" Pennywise asked, eyes refocusing on the regal mage-mouse. Its head canted to the side, fiery orange hair flopping over like a piece of droopy fungus and a string of drool dribbling from Its mouth.

It sniffed again, this time taking a good whiff of Shantotto's drink. The creature's face immediately twisted into a look of mild disgust.

"Sour, sour..." It grunted, clawed hands scrabbling fiercely at Its snout as if that alone could rid Its nostrils of the smell. "Sour everywhere in that room, yeugch!"

Shantotto stared confusedly at the monstrous being before her. Then, everything clicked into place.

"Oh, the drink! That must be it, I think," she mused, tapping her chin in thought. "I will discard it if it will ease our little feud, but you must promise to mind your attitude."

Pennywise nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! Pennywise'll be your friend, pup!"

[PepsiWhirda]

[spoiler]

Yuuka really didn't care what her partner had to say about her habits. She was too stuck in her ways to change- and Whirda would only have to learn that the hard way. ...Or the easy one, if they were given a moment of peace amongst the reporters.

The media wasn't a new thing to Yuuka in any fashion- the Tengu in Gensokyo were fiends at reporting every last shred of a story they could get their talons on, no matter how made up. So one could imagine that Yuuka did not particularly enjoy their presence around her. In her mind the best way to deal with them was to confuse them, though the method by which she accomplished that varied. In Gensokyo that was typically accomplished by "not doing anything interesting." Here, well...

Like it or not, blood sports were interesting.

So, with cameras aimed at her, microphones roughly shoved into her general vicinity, and perhaps half a dozen people crowding around her, she took in a deep breath to deal with it. With a look of utter dismay on her face, she glanced about the "reporters." Of course, most of them looked horrendously disreputable. One of them she even doubted was a sentient being- perhaps some sort of automated news machine? She didn't know. Too far behind the times.

"Miss Kazami, what are your thoughts on your win?"

"Nice."

"You mentioned some interesting things during the fight- it seems you have some history with Miss Kirisame."

"Oh, yes. Very tragic past, us. Unforgivable sins, sleepless pursuit of justice, et cetera, et cetera. Quite a long story."

The "long story" was approximately a sentence long and went something along the lines of "she broke into my house, stole some of my garbage and punched me," of course.

Interest now piqued, the reporter stepped forward a bit, twinkle in his eye.

Thankfully, at this point, a Syntech employee stepped forward as well, between the uncomfortable pair and the paparazzi. "Now folks. Let's let these two get healed up and rested before asking any more questions. There will be plenty of time afterwards."

She shot a glance at the two still-injured women and nodded, beckoning them off into a side room behind fenced off lines to the cacophony of disappointed newsies.

Said room was decorated in a utilitarian fashion- everything off white, two futons, a man in a lab coat flipping through some tablet-like device as he waited. He seemed to jump as the injured fighters entered, though more at how sudden it was than seeing them. Working here, he had to be used to such injuries, after all. With another curt nod, he pointed each of them to one of the futons. "Right, sit on down for a moment and we can discuss the specifics of your healing."

Yuuka, for her part, took this opportunity to take a seat eagerly- letting out an enormous sigh the moment her butt hit the mattress. Were she a less strong willed woman, she had a feeling she would pass out and fall asleep right there on the spot. "What specifics?"

"Oh- simply what method of healing is most comfortable for you."

"What do you have?"

"Just about any-" The man paused as he caught a glance at something on that device of his and cleared his throat. "W-well... Can I interest you in an ice cold Pepsi?"

[/spoiler]

Whirda repeated the unfamiliar word.  "Pepsi?"

The bespectacled doctor regarded Whirda, arcing an eyebrow.  "You’ve never had Pepsi before?” he asked.  A buzzing noise emerged from the device he carried.  The doctor glanced at it nervously, fear flashing across his face.  He cleared his throat.  “Sorry.  What I meant to say was, ‘You’ve never enjoyed the cool, refreshing taste of Pepsi before?’”

Taken aback by his unusual behavior, Whirda turned her puzzled expression on Yuuka.  The green-haired woman shrugged.

“PepsiCo is the biggest sponsor of Dante’s Abyss,” the doctor continued.  His voice had taken on the droning, mechanical timbre of a man reciting lines from a script.  “They make Pepsi, the highest quality carbonated soft drink in the Omniverse.”

“And it has healing properties?” Whirda asked.
“Here it does.  Things tend to work… differently in Dante’s Abyss.”

Whirda’s patience ran thin.  Her body ached from head to toe, her broken nose still splayed across her face.  The next battle would start soon, she knew, and she needed rest.  Despite her apprehensions, she gave the doctor a curt nod.  “Pepsi, then.”

A relieved smile flashed across the doctor’s face.  He walked to a chest made of a shiny, solid material Whirda did not recognize and lifted the lid, reaching inside to remove two transparent bottles with red and blue labels.  He handed one to each of the Primes.

Whirda stared at the bottle blankly, turning it over in her hands.  The foreign material was cold against her skin, wet with condensation.  The contents of the bottle were a deep brown.

The doctor cleared his throat again.  “You have to twist the cap,” he said, pantomiming and twisting motion with both hands.

“Like this,” Yuuka said, also demonstrating.  Her bottle opened with a hiss of escaping carbonation, a supremely satisfying sound.

Whirda followed suit.  Her own bottle hissed and, following Yuuka’s lead, she tilted it to her lips.  When the syrupy Pepsi met her tongue, she immediately gagged and spat it back up.  The saccharine sweet liquid coated her tongue and the inside of her mouth.  Whirda coughed and spluttered, trying to rid herself of its foul taste.

“You try to poison me?!” she roared, springing to her feet.

The doctor backpedaled, brushing brown droplets from the front of his previously pristine lab coat.  “Ms. Windstrom,” he hurriedly explained, “under no circumstances would a Syntech employee seek to cause you harm.  The cool, refreshing taste of Pepsi is an acquired taste for those hailing from certain realms, but I assure you it is quite effective.”

Opening her mouth to reply, Whirda promptly shut it again when she felt her bent and broken nose straightening.  She held her hands in front of her face, eyes wide as the purple and yellow bruises receded, disappearing completely in mere moments.  A surge of energy revitalized her tired muscles.

Tentatively, she took another sip.  It was just as disgusting the second time.

“My apologies, doctor,” she muttered.  “A misunderstanding.”

For the third time, the doctor cleared his throat to break up the ensuing, uncomfortable silence.  “Quite alright, Ms. Windstrom,” he said.  “For future reference, our healing comes in many forms.  Next time, you may specify your preferred method.”

Whirda set the bottle aside, eyeing it warily.  

“However, with the loss of PepsiMan, Syntech finds itself in search of some… promotional opportunities.”

“PepsiMan?” Whirda asked.

“The mascot for PepsiCo,” the doctor said, “responsible for marketing the company’s products to viewers of Dante’s Abyss.”

“What happened to him?”

“He stood in as a competitor in Dante’s Abyss.”  The doctor cleared his throat again, a sound with which both women were quickly growing tired.  “He died… well, insofar as a Prime is capable of dying.  It will be many weeks before he can return to his duties.”

Whirda and Yuuka said nothing, both beginning to suspect the doctor’s motives.

Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the suddenly sweaty doctor regarded them each in turn.  “I don’t suppose you might be interested in assuming his duties?”

While Whirda could not deny that she indeed feel much better, something the doctor said came back to her.  “You said this… Pepsi only has healing properties inside Dante’s Abyss?” she asked.

The doctor nodded.

“So outside Dante’s Abyss, it is merely a beverage?”

“Yes.  In the other Verses, people enjoy Pepsi for its cool, refreshing taste alone.”

Whirda barked a harsh laugh.  “You ask me to advertise this foul beverage for you?  I would not wish this… Pepsi on my most hated enemy.”  She stood abruptly, moving to leave the office and return to her quarters.  

Sighing, the doctor gave her a resigned look.  “I understand, Ms. Windstrom,” he said.  “In truth—” he leaned in close, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone—“in truth, I share your opinion of the stuff.  I only ask because Mr. Jak is desperate to find a replacement.  PepsiCo is our biggest sponsor, as I said.  It pays to be in Mr. Jak’s good graces.”  He offered her a sly wink.  “The… medical technology Syntech possesses is… extensive.”

The meaning of the doctor’s words were not lost on Whirda.  Karl Jak, the owner of Syntech and the host of Dante’s Abyss, was the very man Whirda sought audience with when she entered the competition.  Tia Dalma had named him as the only man who could provide a cure for the sickness visited upon her by Ahn’Thrix.  

“A moment, doctor?” she asked, motioning that she and Yuuka needed some privacy.  “I must discuss this with my partner.  Neither of the Primes missed the eager gleam in the doctor’s eye as he backed out of the room.

“You’re considering this?” Yuuka asked skeptically, the moment the door closed with a quiet click.

“I am.”  Whirda glanced down to her feet before continuing.  “Sadly, I must.  If I tell the doctor yes, will you agree?”

Yuuka smirked.  “A few minutes ago you had me against the wall by my throat.  A few minutes ago, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to continue fighting with you by my side.  And now you ask me to accompany you on this parade of stupidity?”

Suppressing a flash of anger at the green-haired Youkai’s reprisal, Whirda drew a deep breath, falling back within herself to the core of discipline she had cultivated through decades of fighting.  When she answered, her voice was soft and measured.  “I joined Dante’s Abyss to earn the favor of Karl Jak.  To ask him to cure the shade’s curse.  It is why I must win… at all costs.”

“And it is why my methods cause you such anger,” Yuuka said, easily following Whirda’s logic.

Whirda nodded.  “I cannot afford any imprecision.”

The green-haired Youkai stared at Whirda, her normally unshakable visage tinged with concern and understanding.  In that moment, the two Primes felt a kinship, a sense of allegiance they had not carried with them into their first battle.  “If you tell the doctor yes,” Yuuka murmured, holding Whirda’s gaze, “I will agree.”

“Thank you,” Whirda said.  She tapped lightly on the door, signalling that the doctor should re-enter his office.

The sweaty, bespectacled man slipped back into the room, his eyes darting nervously between the two Primes.  Unprompted, he cleared his throat softly, waiting for one of the contestants to speak.

“I have… reconsidered your offer, doctor” Whirda said evenly.  “That is, we have reconsidered.  It will be our pleasure to represent PepsiCo for the remainder of the tournament, if that is Karl Jak’s wish.”

As if Whirda had lifted an immense weight from his shoulders with her words, the doctor heaved a huge sigh and flashed a broad grin.  His fingers darted across the device for a few seconds before he spoke.  “Excellent!  A wise decision, Ms. Windstrom.  Mr. Jak will be pleased.”

The doctor cleared his throat.  

“Now,” he said, “there is just the matter of arranging an interview.”

[Ahana Varma]

I stare up at the ceiling, despondent, a hollow emptiness in my gut.

This marks the second time in as many days that I’ve woken up in a hospital.

Why does this happen? Why does it seem as if I’m doomed to do nothing but constantly fail to live up to the expectations my king has of me? A logical part of my mind tells me that I'm not to blame, that that fight wasn’t fair… that that bastard, Sasuke Uchiha, didn’t even need to try, he so outclassed us. That right up until the very end of the match, he was just playing, letting me think he couldn’t hurt me, whilst really he had just been holding back his tremendous power all along.

But still, I flush with shame just thinking about it, and my eyes burn with angry tears which I struggle to hold back. Were my king and the others all watching that fight, having already won their own bouts with the same ease as that kid, and then chosen to laze around watching Sasuke play with his food for a bit? Were they laughing at me as I fought desperately against a foe who was far out of my league, never realising just how outclassed I truly was?

It fills my soul with venom. I want someone to suffer for this. Ideally, I’d like to pummel Sasuke’s face into a bloodied mess… but that’s beyond my power to achieve. Yes, logically, I know that I shouldn’t be getting worked up over this… the luck of the draw matched me against a vastly superior foe, that’s all there is to it. This result is exactly what I would expect of a fight against a Prime in the retinue of King Gilgamesh. In fact, I should perhaps even be grateful that the combined efforts of Eternity and I were enough to take down his partner.

I’m not, though.

I’m supposed to be proving that I deserve to stand amongst these mighty figures as an equal, that I too can be of use to my king… but how can I when I’m barely able to touch our foes, and can’t even protect my own partner from harm?

I turn my head. Eternity is in the bed next to mine, speaking to a member of the Syntech staff who’s offering her something from a small, brown bag. The little girl does an admirable job of staying strong, despite the burns on her face and shoulders from that explosive, not to mention her lacerated arms and numerous bruises. Those wounds weigh heavily on me. Each one marks a blow I failed to prevent.

Then Larva pops something into her mouth—a bean?—and swallows. Almost instantly, she’s fully healed. I gawk like an idiot, my mouth hanging open. Her voice livening up just as quickly, she turns to me with an expression of childish joy on her face.

"Wow!" she exclaims, "You have to try these 'Senzu Beans' too! They work great, right?"

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, they certainly do.” I agree dumbfoundedly, still feeling like I'm in a state of shock. I accept one when offered, and eat it. A few aches vanish, but the change is far from the startling transformation my partner underwent. For all that it hurt like a motherfucker, that electrical attack of Sasuke's didn't really leave behind any visible indication of having struck me.

“You both must be worn out after your fight,” comments the Syntech assistant—a young, blonde woman with her hair tied up in a bun—cheerily, a bright smile plastered on her face, “how about a nice, cool and refreshing Pepsi to quench your thirst and get you back on your feet?”

She reaches into a box by her feet, then tosses each of us a blue and silver can, with a red, white & blue logo on it. It takes a moment, but I figure out how to open it. The stuff fizzes in my mouth, and is very sweet… it is actually quite nice, though, and she certainly wasn’t lying about it being refreshing. Even as the liquid slides down my throat, I can feel my muscles coming alive with renewed vigour. I sigh contentedly.

The woman takes her bag of magic beans and her box of chilled, carbonated beverages and bustles off to go offer them to someone else. For a few moments, we sit in silence.

“I’m sorry, Larva.” I don’t meet her gaze, but instead stare down at the can in my hands.

“What for?” the fairy asks, as if she doesn’t know.

“We lost. I lost. I should’ve been able to do more… I just...” I trail off, shaking my head. She takes a sip from her drink, but otherwise keeps quiet. The silence eats at me, until I’m forced to continue, just to break it, “I was too damn slow.”

I shake my head helplessly, glaring at my delicious, cold Pepsi, as I struggle not to crush the can in my anger, “I’ve never thought of myself as slow before… but I might as well have been standing still in that fight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” the sprite answers brightly, “Just because those two were super-fast, doesn’t mean everyone else will be too. Besides, all of those in this ‘loser bracket’ are going to be in the same situation as we are.”

I sigh, rolling onto my back to stare up at the ceiling again, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

[Jak Mar]

The eco warrior pushed through the wall of fans and cameras trying to ask Jak and Daxter who was trying to push aside the crowd like a bodyguard trying to protect a celebrity. The Ottsel waved his arms and whined “alright alright. We will be back. “

Jak took a sharp turn to the right and gritted his teeth. He eyed the Syntech employee as they asked if Jak needed a magic bean. This made the eco warrior immediately raise a eyebrow and take it suspiciously. The employee said it was called a Senzu bean and it healed everyone who took it fully. He bit it and almost immediately the wounds he got disappeared, including the chest wound and even his strength recovered

Daxter placed a hand on the eco warrior’s shoulder and smiled “Glad you recovered, buddy because you still got a lot of things to take care of.”

Orange Lightning cleared his throat and pointed toward the bathroom.

Jak raised a eyebrow and nods “Right, right.”


As the eco warrior almost tripped pulling Daxter through the open bathroom door, he breathed a sigh of relief and went to the nearest stall, leaving Daxter to stand outside the door. Jak insisted Dax stayed outside the door, while he took care of his “business.”

“Oh Omni, what the hell is that smell?” Daxter gagged on the smell coming from the bathroom.

Jak winced “Dax! Hold your nose..”

Daxter muttered “Fine.”

The eco warrior tried again with his meditation on the toilet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jak closed his eyes, peacefully and talked to what seemed like himself.

“Hey Dark King, Light Hero, you hear me?”

The dark king replied first while grunting “What the hell do you want, Jak.”

The angel pulled aside the dark king and replied calmly “What can I we do for you, Jak?”

Jak stood up and cleared his throat “See, Dark? There's the problem. If you’d kept your calm, We would of been able to protect Ash.”

The Dark King looked away, disappointed “So it’s my fault for our loss? I did most of the work, Jak.”

I should- The Noble Hero pushed the dark king to the side and cut him off

“No, this time there’s a lesson to be listened to here, Dark King.”

Ash saved us, as in All of us.

We should repay her.

The Dark King stopped in his tracks as he bit his tongue “How do you suppose we do that?”

The angel placed a hand on the Dark King’s mouth “I’ll do the job this time, Dark.”

The Dark King frowned “I’ll try to calm myself so that we can protect Ash this time.”

The Nobel hero stepped forward and smiled “Thank you, Dark King. That means a lot. “

Jak, you hear me? The hero called to Jak?

Jak’s eyes were white.

“I’m going to do the job this time. You think you can win for me and Dark this time? Ash needs a hero. You are the perfect hero. So don’t let us down.”

[Handsome Jack]

"... I think he's finally coming around."

"I guess the sedatives are beginning to wear off," another voice replied.

Words drifted aimlessless through the void in which Handsome Jack found himself, disembodied and meaningless. Sedatives? What the hell...

Memories flooded back to the man, threatening to overtake his sanity and send him back into the blissful darkness of unconsciousness. The tournament... his partner... the murder of their would-be foes... and the desperate fight for survival against that monster. It all came back to him, yet something seemed off.

Jack's eyes fought to remain sealed against the harsh light beyond their lies. The nearly overpowering odor of sterility caused his stomach to turn over and the rough feel of lining under and draped over him was like sandpaper.

"Ah... fuck... what happened?" Jack asked groggily as he struggled into a seated position and blinked against the blinding florescent glare that kept him from seeing more than the silhouette of the two who had been talking. "Where am I?"

The more curvaceous of the outlines approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. It's alright. You're resting in the Syntech Medical Ward. You gave us quite a scare there, but it looks like you pulled through. Good thing too... the next round is due to start any minute now."

"Wait, what?!" Jack exclaimed, that last tidbit startling him to full wakefulness. "The fuck?! Next round?! I nearly DIED out there, sweetcheeks! Fuck the nerd round! Jak already screwed up the first one. How am I supposed to trust a guy who can't even keep a murderer from killing off his contestants with another match, huh? I didn't sign up for this bullshit!"

"Well..." interrupted the man who was accompanying the young lady, now that Jack could see a little better. As young as she was, this dude was just as old. Grey haired to her blonde. Saggy to her perky. Ugly to her... well, she was kinda ugly too. Two out of three ain't bad though.

"I hate to say this, Mr. Jack," he continued with a tone that suggested he actually really enjoyed saying it. "But you DID, in fact, sign up for this. Death and/or Banishment is one of the risks laid out in the contract you signed. Just feel lucky neither has happened to you yet. Most of your fellow contestants won't be so lucky."

Handsome Jack fumed internally, because... well, the guy was right. But Hell, no one ever reads the Terms and Conditions! They just click "I Accept" and get right to downloading animated porn gifs of Garfield.

With a forlorn sigh, Jack finally dragged himself from the rock-hard cot and, taking a glance in the mirror, began the work of making himself a new mask. At that moment, he didn't even feel like killing them for seeing his real face. All he could think about was how hard he had fucked himself over.

[Sarah Kerrigan]

Kerrigan’s smile was thin, plastic, and just as much a fake as everything else while she casually lounged as the pre-show continued. Unlike many of the other primes, preferring to utilize their connection to the dataverse with an electronic device - many of them reminded her of the fones people used for local planetary communication back in the Koprulu sector.

The queen preferred to ignore such a simple connection, instead utilizing an organic link to the dataverse to view every stream at once. She’d been caught off-guard by the weakest primes she’d ever faced in the last battle - the queen of blades was determined to avoid that issue in the future. Particularly…

She rewound the tape of her last fight, watching the bandit’s early slip from the arena again. If Kerrigan hadn’t summoned that hydralisk, she would have lost her most valuable tool before the battle again - the tool that made the complete difference between a glorious victory and an embarrassing defeat.

Kerrigan’s smile faded at the thought. The self-proclaimed ass-kicker was strong, Determined, and destructive. Her teammate had the capability to crush anything that erupted in her path and the endurance to live through her own reckless charges. In zerg terms, Kerrigan had made the comparison to an ultralisk several times already.

Still, it wasn’t exactly a fair comparison. That assumption had caused her to use her time to stop the bandit’s ring-out in the first round, but it made her miss the versatility and capabilities the bandit had. She’d mistaken a simple, unfettered mind for one of stupidity. Instead, she’d been capable enough to surprise their opponents, canny enough to take the opportunity to knock out both of them out of the ring, and kept Kerrigan from falling to a surprise attack.

No. The scarred veteran was far from stupid. She was crude, certainly, but so was a wild beast. Her partner from Dante’s abyss knew what she could do, knew what she was incapable of, and had built an incredibly effective level of fighting skill based off of what she had. Much like the zerg, she was a brute creature evolved to become a hyper-effective killing machine. Relentless, powerful, and unstoppable.

Subverting her remained possible, though, as the earlier battle proved. A powerful fighter that simply couldn’t remain flexible enough to handle the battle situation alone, a crude fighting style that could fall to more sophisticated hands. A powerful warrior but one with as many weaknesses as she had strengths on the battlefield.

Kerrigan had tried to take advantage of her as a tool, but that had failed to bring out the potential that scarred body held. Both she and the experienced fighter ended up struggling against their inferior opponents simply due to a certain lack of coordination. She’d learned quickly through her defeat at Darkshire that fighting two primes at once was simply beyond her abilities in this moment, and she wasn’t keen on dying in this next battle.

Getting up from her seat with a strained look, she realized that the change she’d need to make was treating her Partner like… well, a partner. Taking her input and needs into account in the coming battle. An equal.

Kerrigan didn’t like using the word to describe a terran. She knew what Terrans did to equals, and while it certainly made them easy to play against each other, it invited risk. She wouldn’t be able to simply use Bandit where it seemed easy. She’d need to give the Bandit trust, and she’d only really done that once before now. Her chosen Cerebrate she had trusted implicitly, utilizing his tactical abilities to accentuate her strategic prowess. Together, they had brought the sector to its knees.

The difference was that she could have killed the Cerebrate with any errant thought, and the great worm made every decision knowing that the Queen of Blades could find any stray inkling of resistance no matter how hard it tried to hide it’s mind from her. A brilliant strategist and a wonderful ally, but one Kerrigan had nothing to fear from.

Here… it was different. The Bandit with No Name was not bound to her will, and would likely defy it even to an irrational extent if she was ever given what she considered to be good reason. Given her flippant nature…

Kerrigan wasn’t pleased, but she found herself on her feet and moving, regardless. She found Bandit by checking for her psychic signature amongst the crowd, the blood-loving woman eagerly absorbing the newest match of the tournament.

“Hah! She totally is Tinkerbell! Kuzuru’s on point!” The Bandit yelled, giving a thumbs up to the prime on the other side of the screen. “...Who’s Tinkerbell?”

Sarah ignored the comment from the Ass-kicker as she slid in next to her. “Hope this seat isn’t taken, but I’m here to make a little deal before the next match-up starts.”

The bandit turned with a look of surprise as Kerrigan sat next to her. “Oh! Hey, Kerri! What’s up?”

Kerri. She was not going to get used to that.

“I’ve been meaning to offer you a proposition. Consider it motivation, for the fight ahead.

“What’cha got? Lay it on me. I’m not looking for any extra limbs or anything, but, y’know…”

“Perform well, bring us to the finals and I’ll give you Zig - with added features.”

Sarah was not prepared for the hug she was covered in. She was not prepared for hugs in general. “Oh my god, oh my god, yesss!”

The hug ended as quickly as it started, with the bandit wiping her hands on her pants before she raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, added features?”

Kerrigan gave a slow shrug. “Zerg mutate easily and quickly, with little actual harm done by tinkering with their genetics. I can give “Zig” over there different colored carapace, a mohawk, the ability to spit acid, cooking skills… It just comes down to what you want.”

The Bandit opened her mouth in excitement, clearly ready to throw quite a few - dozen - suggestions at Sarah, but she just raised a hand. “When we win. Keep those ideas quiet for now.”

The Bandit blinked a few times, before giving Sarah a huge smile, and taking another swig of her drink. “Well, guess I’ve got even more reason to beat the next two into paste.”

Sarah’s response was merely a lopsided grin. “I’ve seen you can fight now.”

Bandit grinned as Sarah held on the statement. “Next round, we just need to coordinate better. We do best as a team. Let’s capitalize on that.”

Sarah grin turned into a proper smile as she continued. “Besides, I enjoyed seeing the first human to successfully ride a zergling. It’s not often I’m legitimately entertained these days.”

“I got to be the first? Kickass!”

[Ash]

Ash considered what the value of his word might be worth weighted next to gold, silver, and other precious metals. Because she didn’t know who he was or what he was about, she could only guess.

The program that ran this NPC surely thought highly of itself if he believed she could be pardoned simply as if jaywalking was her biggest crime achieved in her life. She did notice very quickly that he seemed to understand her love-hate relationship with Coruscant which left her under the impression that he either worked for them or kept tabs on the bounty boards.

The Storm Demon suddenly wanted to know what they had posted for her now. The Captain or whatever he was at the gates had explained fairly well she’d been a bad girl. And what crimes they had attached so casually to her name. But never explained what her status was.

Just that they were watching her.

So a boon that involved a high placing robutt might be more favorable to her than she originally expected. Even if the gate warden made it pretty clear that slaps on the wrists and jail time weren’t really an option for her anymore.

But what does she have to lose? Her life?

Banishment again might be a punishment worth avoiding if only because she liked the idea of avoiding Diablo like he was the clingiest of ex-boyfriends.

She already committed his number to her cyberdeck’s drive but stuffed the paper into her flimsy top while pulling herself up into her chair as normal, watching the strange thing walk away on his own and after someone else. Ash ran the numbers silently about the droid like creature being yet another surprise PC instead of a non-player program she originally believed. After a few more moments she decided that it no longer mattered and rotated back around to put the empty glass down.

Her eyes glance back up to watch the end of the fight, only to see that it was over and that Kanda and the mouse had won. Their faces plastered the scene and a countdown promising the fight’s best highlights in the next few seconds displayed beside them. She was torn between watching it and going to get the real story from any of the contestants involved long enough for the countdown to reach zero and it began.

Several scenes in the fight that probably invoked the most reaction of the watching audience but from more dramatic angles appeared on the screen in short playback. Including the ominous brand that flared as Gilgamesh transformed into something both demonic and eerily familiar. Around her she heard gasps of awe and shock, her life’s theme song really, as it was revealed that the Golden King was a claimed servant for the dark lord. This brought a mild reaction to Ash. Which came in the form of a pause so powerful it stopped her thoughts for a few seconds. Long enough for Desman to show of his brand, which not only pulled her out but made the morality mirrored humanoid smack herself in the forehead. The horns covering her skull did nothing to stop this.

Ash let out a long unbridled sigh of pure anguish. Not because Desman had sold his soul off to the devil, it was better off in Diablo’s talons apparently. But because the boy had no absolute sense of fineness what so ever. He could pick a lock with a hairpin, but he couldn’t make tactical decisions to save his life. Obviously as displayed by this fight.

“Ah. The Storm Demon herself.” A voice broke her out of her internal thoughts and personal disgust with the man she shared a cage for several months. The woman looked up to see a sly smile and a fedora with a ticket in the band. “Care for an interview?” He asked, in a cocky confident way that assured her she had no choice. He was already pulling out a pen and pad. “Jak’s got his own fan club, Ricter is adorable, and Cell was a real contender… But you struck me as the most interesting one of them all.”

“Is that so?” She asked, disinterest clear in her voice and suspicion in her chest.

“Absolutely.” He assured her, setting up on the stool beside her, back towards the screens. “Not every contestant brings their own weapon of mass destruction with them.” His pen pointed over at her chainsword, but then a grin flashed confidently again. “I think the best part though, was when you died.”

Ash wasn’t sure what he meant until she remembered the blue energy swallowing up her ‘clone’. A quiet smirk came over her face. “Oh?”

“We have proof that 98% of the viewing audience believed that you had been completely obliterated. About 50% of the audience didn’t have an initial reaction to the shock of you running right into it, and the other half - the blood-lusting portion - cheered.” He began to jot some notes. “But what everyone’s asking is ‘How did she do that?’ after you appeared again. Was that movie magic or…?”

Ash let out a soft laugh. “Movie magic? You understand I am a Pla- Prime, right?”

The reporter laughed, it sounded a bit forceful to her. “Right, but the public wasn’t sure if Karl Jak was faking deaths now for dramatics and ratings.”

“No. But if he wants to keep things interesting around here he can come to talk to me.” She said with a smirk, challenging the carnival master with good humor. Out of all the primes she has encountered, he was definitely on a short list of people she’d like to get comfortable with.

The secondary laughed at her joke, but the mask of confidence chipped away a bit more. “Well then, does that mean you won’t be telling us how you achieved life after death?”

“Magic.” She answered sweetly as if that was the end all argument. In most settings it was, but this was the omniverse where even the NPC’s were aware that that was not the answer to all. When the secondary before her acted like he finally got the joke, she chuckled with him. “But seriously. I am a mage from where I come from. I work mostly with electricity, but my favorite element to manipulate is ‘surprise’.”

He was eager to finally have something to actually write down, jotting down her quote as quickly as possible with short hand that he’d be able to best understand and be able to re-write in his office later. “Electricity, is that why you are called The Storm Demon?”

“Part of it,” Ash said simply.

“The other part must be … The way you look.” Ash could tell he was nervous about bringing it up.

“How much about me do you know?” She asked, switching tones from bored to interest now.

“Me? Personally? Not a lot. That’s why we conduct interviews.” He said, trying to improve his chances here.

“Did they already show off my promo video?” Ash asked, curiously, leaning in.

“Promotional video? I don’t believe so.” He felt the heat on his neck now.

“Aw…” She feinted pain, hurt by the fact that Karl spent that time and effort, but didn’t show it off yet. Of course, she imagined it was more profitable to display them after the first fight. Let the public decide on who they want to learn more about based on the ranking and the fights.

The Storm Demon noticed very quickly how little attention she was receiving from the cameras.

Syntech’s followed her about with the hopes she will do something worth the constant surveillance, and when they weren’t watching her the employee’s kept at least glancing her way. She gathered they didn’t trust her, but she couldn’t decide if that was because she did something to put people on edge or if it was just the normal effect she had on people. As for the actual news crews, fan clubs, and anyone here to snap pictures of real fighters, Ash hasn’t approached by many. Not that she disapproved of this. While all girls liked the attention, she was okay with the lack of it on her end. Even if she did become popular, she had her own tricks…

She leaned back as if her interest in the interview has all burned out.

“Does it, perhaps have something import-”

As if on cue, they both could hear her voice.

“Ash. The Storm Demon.” Came from the television in the bar. They and several people turned to see Ash looking as edgy as could be. She was low to the ground, her signature booty sticking up just higher than her head as she held her blade out. The Quill is ready for the attack, but before she could perform this attack, the screen went to a blue and purple background where they displayed her volunteered information:

Ash, The Storm Demon; 23 y/o; Morality Mirrored Humanoid; Female. Wins: 0, Lost: 1; Biggest Accomplishment in OV: “I escaped the Underverse just a few days ago.”

“What brought you to Dante’s Abyss?” A male’s voice asked a smooth voice that invited the listener to look again. Not at all the person she’d spoken to in her interview despite using the same exact words. - Admittedly he sounded much more interested in her answer than the woman did.

The screen turned to her standing there and blowing the viewer a kiss, much like she’d given Cell. “I am a fan of friends. This is a good way to meet new people.” Was Ash’s response.

Then the screen transitioned to the next person. Whoever it was on the alphabetical list that the producers had. Ash was interested to see it but turned back to her reporter with a slight smirk. “There it is.” She teased.

The secondary carried on his face a look of confusion. “Well… Then may I ask.” He turned to her. “What exactly is a ‘Morality Mirrored Humanoid’?”

“What does it sound like?” Ash asked more curious interest than annoyed

“A humanoid who reflects the moral choices they’ve made?” He took a vague guess.

“Exactly,” Ash said, with a growing wicked smile.

The secondary wasn’t sure what that meant. He looked her over with some concern and tried to understand. It wasn’t until she flicked her tail impatiently that it dawned on him that he was trying to find something specific when it was a more big picture kind of thing. Ash watched the man’s jaw fall open, only to close slowly and he swallow any other questions he had to ask another.

“What kind of moral choices did you make that you…” He trailed off.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” She teased as she stood up. Her hand reached towards his chest, where she stroked it gently. “I have to go, sweetie. Look me up later, when you have more questions.” She smiled gently before taking her leave, hips swaying and tail whipping playfully behind her.

Her mood much better now. Now, time to prepare for her next fight.

-

Ash found a position in the hall, taking a few minutes to mend her clothing from the shreds to the former outfit she'd worn, the maroon and orange crop top hood, and ripped jean shorts that reached her knees but showed off her shapely thighs. As well, the swirling black mass that was Phantom Luck now formed around her, vanishing into the background for the next time she needs it. She then took a deep inhale and slowly exhaled. She took a seat on a nearby bench, the one she'd met Kanda at, and began to play on her cyberdeck, reviewing this fight with Taloc and Makoto.