Day One: Part 1

[Samus Aran]

Samus awoke to the sound of some torrential machine; it took several seconds before she realised it had to be a helicopter. She was inside a helicopter.

The hunter sat bolt upright – or tried to. She found herself shackled to the chair in which she sat. Furthermore, there was some kind of collar around her neck.

Oh god damn it …

It all came flooding back to her. The chase. The fight. She’d been so close, but …

The banishment circle didn’t work.

And then …

Gas. Which means …

Samus felt a great weight take up home in her stomach.

They’re taking me to the island.

Samus had come to the Dante Verse for one reason alone: to banish Cindy. People like her were a danger to law and order. Not the kind of law that the Empire espoused, but true law. Common decency. Not bashing your teammate over the head to pilfer the spoils of a battle. To get to the monster hunter, Samus had had to sign up, but she’d never had any intention of actually competing. Her plan had gone horribly wrong.

“Hey! Hey!” Samus started to yell, struggling in her seat and making as much noise as possible. “I didn’t consent to this! I’m resigning from the competition!”

A black masked soldier marched round from the front compartment of the helicopter. “Pipe down now!”

“I didn’t consent to this!” Samus repeated. “I want to back out! The competition hasn’t started yet!”

The masked man chuckled. “Too late to back out now. We’re already over the island.”

“What!? No-!”

The front compartment of the helicopter slid shut, leaving Samus to yell at it. She tried to look out of the window but everything was blacked out. Where was Blues? Where was Harry? Samus began to feel very sick. They were out there. This was her fault.

No. They knew the risks. You said that yourself.

It was true. She’d made Harry swear it. But Blues … powerful as he might be, Blues was just a kid, and she’d allowed him into the clutches of the psychopaths who ran this voyeuristic murder-show. The guilt practically doubled her over. Suddenly it all seemed so stupid. The plan. Had it been worth it? Her obsession with justice had dragged her friends in, and now they were paying the price.

The soldier’s voice roused her from her addled thoughts. “We’re here. Move.”

Samus didn’t fight. Still dizzy from the drugs, still reeling from her own foolhardiness, she looked down at the pitch black forest.

And then she was falling, tumbling into the hard ground.

Something hard struck her in the back.

With a groan, the armoured daughter pushed herself up. The whirr of the helicopter soon faded to a noise in the distance, swiftly taken over by the sound of crickets. She could faintly hear other helicopters, much further away in the distance. Just how big was this island? Samus wished now she’d taken more time to prepare for this possibility. What were the rules? What did she have to remember?

Survive.

That was it, at its core. That was all she had to do. No killing required. Killing in a game like this, killing to win … it seemed like that would be letting them win. The ultimate sacrifice of her ideals and values. But if someone came at her ready to kill? It wouldn’t have been the first time she defended herself with lethal force.

And what happens if you make it to the end and it’s just you, Blues, and Harry?

It was too much to try and puzzle that out right now. She would solve that when she came to it. For now, she racked her brains for what she remembered about the competition.

Danger zones … as the game goes on, the map fills up with danger zones … and if you’re on a danger zone, you die? That sounds about right for this twisted competition. What else?

Her brain felt muddy, like her thoughts were just out of reach. A frustrating experience for one who never drank alcohol nor took drugs. The persistent grogginess only served to remind her of the chemicals no doubt still coursing through her system, and it filled her with an indignant rage. What gave them the right to make that decision for her? To put her in a hollow game. Her gorge rose.

And yet, wasn’t that just what Omni had done? Samus could certainly draw parallels. In some ways, this was just like a smaller version of the Omniverse, condensed into a few days. Was Karl Jak one of those weird Omni cultists? Probably not. Probably just a lame copycat. But up till now, Samus had never felt like the Omniverse was purely about killing and destroying. The fact that some people had willingly put themselves into this murder game somehow made it worse, in Samus’s opinion. It made her wonder if perhaps killing the kind of people she’d meet on this island, keeping them away from that prize trophy, would be a favour to the world outside.

Samus had to stop herself. She was foggy. Full of rage. And her thoughts were starting to go down a slippery slope. Suddenly her head spun and she braced herself against a tree. Her heart beat in her throat, and she had to fight to keep the contents of her stomach down. She couldn’t let herself throw up. Not in this environment.

Samus stumbled into the trees, into shadow, finding solace in the darkness. Once again she found herself on the thin divide between predator and prey, hunter and hunted.

[Erza Scarlet]

Erza was dropped less-than-gracefully out of the helicopter, landing with a resounding *thud* on her back in the center of a moonlit clearing of soft, green grass in the middle of what seemed to be a jungle. Ow. THAT was a back-ache that wouldn't go away any time soon. It didn't help that with her magic hampered by this cold-ass metal color, she couldn't use her powers of flight to float gracefully down to the ground. It seemed the collar was inhibiting her access to her innate magic. Well, Desco hadn't been lying, at least. It was not a comfortable feeling. Oh well. No use wasting time thinking about it too much. I'm certainly not the only one.

She allowed herself a moment's respite, taking comfort in the soft grass padding she could feel gently caressing her calves and the back of her head. Using the opportunity to look side to side, taking in her environment, she again noticed the dark-grey duffel bag that had before been on her bed. Right. Weapon, or something. She grabbed the closest handle with her outstretched arm, and tugged. The bag stayed in place.

Well, that was certainly odd. Erza was used to handling gigantic buster swords and impractically large warhammers, and yet, without her magic and from this vulnerable position, she couldn't move her bag at all. She sat up, leaning on her hands for a moment as her aching back again called for a pause. Her head again turned to face the bag. It certainly hadn't been THAT heavy back in the room. Her curiosity, however, would have to wait yet another moment for her to scoot to the bag and sit normally, unzipping it gleefully like a child on Christmas morning who'd already been awake for three hours but had had to wait for their parents to come downstairs first.

The sight before her was... Satisfactory. It wasn't her style of weapon by any means, but she knew someone who would have had quite a fun time with it were she here. In her honor, Erza thought with a smirk, I shall have to do the same. There was a list of instructions attached...

Taking a second cursory look around her, there seemed to be a path of some sort, perhaps a road? Visible through the trees, and relatively nearby. She sauntered down the very mild incline and onwards toward the road in her headlights, her shadow a distorted silhouette of the young S-class wizard with a duffel bag on one shoulder and a very large hunk of metal on the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed at least a good half-hour had passed as she sauntered down the coastal drive, a light, salty breeze flowing through the cracks in her armor and bringing a welcome respite from the sweat that had begun to build as she walked. This thing is heavier than it looks... Though I knew that already. It was then that she heard a rustling in the grass up ahead. Immediately, she allowed the thing to fall forwards, the other end resting in her left hand while she kept it ready to use with her right. Crouching and quickly hopping out of the center of the road, she did her best to sneak towards the source of the sound. Her armor, clanking moderately obnoxiously, made this task less than possible, but that wasn't something that Erza was particularly capable of noticing.

From the tree cover beyond came a somewhat-frightened squeak as a short creature made his way forwards, hands in the air. "Golly, I didn't think I'd run into anyone just yet!"

Erza let down her weapon, keeping one hand ready for a quick recovery but freeing the other. The critter didn't look frightening to her. In fact, it was borderline cute. "Look, I don't think I'm going to kill you right now. I don't like to attack first." She let her weapon slide to the ground, leaning on it for support. "Actually, why don't we move together for now? I sure could use some company."

He nodded emphatically, his giant hands moving to his tiny hips and face lighting up like Dora's when you pick the right answer. "Well, gee, that sounds fine to me, ha-ha!"

[Lubbock]

The silver blade in Lubbock's hands unravelled itself and disappeared. Shit... That was not expected, he complained as he shambled over towards the beach across from the tunnel, away from the savage girl. He grunted with each step, blood pooling and spurting out on impact with the ground. He placed one of the foam fists over his wound, hopefully absorbing some of the vital liquid. He could tell it ruptured something and maybe even chipped the bone, but all he had to do was think of Najenda and he could withstand any pain.

He found himself at the shore, his feet firmly on the sand. It reminded him of the moment just before he signed up. He dragged his leg through the soft grains, red blood dropping every few slides into the sand, dotting it as a trail. He made a mental reminder to clear that away after helping his leg. No way was he going to heal it easy, but he may be able to slow the bleeding.

He crouched down at the water on his good leg and slid off one glove, standing it in the wet sand beside. He bent forward and scooped up the water, bringing it back to his mouth and tasting it. The bitterness hit his tongue in a flash, and he spat the liquid out. That was actually a great help: salt water washes wounds well. He stepped his injured leg into the water, and winced as the salt but at the flesh. Learning survival skills were kind of a perk of being an assassin.

"Hey, Syura? Do you think I'll survive this?" he asked, hopefully without anyone nearby. He heard no reply. He tried again.

"Syura, you there? It's great you've learned a sense of humour now, but I need you right now..." still nothing. His head tipped down.

Only now he realised how lonely he was without the asshole in his head.

[Violet]

Prey. It’s everything anybody was here. You were the meat or you were the butcher, but you could not be in between, and it was a concept she knew all too well. Without numbers, prey is all she would be. She failed to make any alliances during the pre-show, and being freshly spawned into this realm had allotted her no time to make connections with anybody.

It wasn’t until the helicopter lifted off and disappeared into the distance did it hit Violet just how utterly alone she was. Years ago, when she played the game, she at least had her clanmates, her group of ragtag warriors who, despite their wildly extreme differences, joined forces to fight the good fight. Through their actions, they had managed to stave off bad guy after bad guy, until the day came when there were no more bad guys to fight.

Well, no, that wasn’t true. There were always bad guys out there; what changed was them. Time had done what time does and they drifted apart. Some disappeared completely, or faded into that gentle good night that so many had found before. Death was a sweet release for those who either couldn’t fight anymore, or were too weak to fight in the first place. She’d always been a fighter, but even she was taken under the cloak of eternal sleep a few times.

Luckily for her, death wasn’t always a permanent state. With the right connections, one could pay (albeit quite heavily) to be resurrected, although communicating that to those who could request the ritual was either them being willfully aware of your desires, or someone who could talk with the dead. In her case, she had been fortunate enough to have people who had loved her, or at least strongly cared for her.

As she hauled the heavy bag onto her back, her arms looping through the thick, canvas straps, she was taken back twenty years to her last Abyss. She’d never won one of these things, and didn’t imagine her chances would be good this time around either, but she had to try. Being alone crippled her, but who could she trust out here? If there’s one thing she learned from her previous experiences, it’s that trust is a precious commodity, and placing it in the wrong hands could get her injured, or even worse.

Worse was not an option. There were people at this very moment that depended on her, whether they were aware of it or not, she had made a promise and didn’t intend to break it. Notoriety was her ticket to the Elite ranks of Coruscant’s ruling class. It was her only way to achieve what she needed to in order to fulfill her promise to Charles.

As much as she was reluctant to admit, Violet had no desire to let innocent people continue to be persecuted when there was something she could do about it. Others may shrug it off as not their problem, but for her, it was. There were people who could not defend themselves, and it was a theme one could find anywhere, regardless of what reality they lived in, and as long as she was able to, she would use the strength and intelligence she’d honed for decades in order to overcome those who sought to oppress those who could not help themselves.

Violet’s eyes scanned the horizon around her. She was dropped onto a beach, with ocean spreading out in one direction, and in the other, she could see the faint lights of a town in the distance. She realized she was looking down into a valley, and through the trees, she could see the moonlight reflecting off landmarks in the distance as they poked their way from atop the canopy.

Usually, she would have looked out there into all that darkness and knew there were people waiting for her to join them. Now, when she looked out into the distance, all she could feel was the stares of dozens of empty eyes, empty except for the desire of her death shining in their deep recesses.

What choice did she have except to shine it back at them?

[Sasuke Uchiha]

"I think we have more allies here than we first thought"

Sasuke’s new comrade, Jon Snow’s words resonated within the youth as he walked down the corridor. A sense of nostalgia washing over him as he went; his mind adrift, brought him memories of Team Seven and Konoha. He shook his head and the thoughts from his conscious, the muscles in his hand tight, clenched into a fist as his resolve returned. He didn’t have time to get off task, Itachi had already began to gain a foothold in this world, so if he wanted him dead he needed to get a move on.

Suddenly a loud speaker sounded overhead, “Attention contestants, Dante’s Abyss is now starting. Please make your way to elevators, they will take you to the landing pads above.

Jynx… the youth thought. He then turned on his heel at a quick pace. From what Hammond had told him, the duffle bag they had given him would be vital to his success of this mission and he had, unfortunately, left it back in his room.

“Damn…” he cursed himself as he passed room after room, moving up in room number until he finally found himself at ‘#43’. Horror over took his expression as his heart dropped; his bag was no longer sitting on top of the desk.

“Contestant number forty-three, Sasuke Uchiha, if you’ll please come with me.” A voice sounded from behind the ninja, giving him a startle, causing him to immediately take a defensive stance as he turned to face the voice’s owner. The ninja’s eyes revealed a young man in his late twenties with auburn hair, dressed in Dante’s Abyss staff uniform.

“Someone took my bag.” Sasuke quickly informed the employee.

The man leaned to the side, peering into the room, “Oh dear, that’s never happened before. Oh well, come with me.” He then started off down the corridor, leaving Sasuke standing there with a bewildered expression on his face. The youth followed after him.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh well’?! What about all my supplies, isn’t this supposed to go one for days?” Sasuke questioned with a worried voice.

“Days?” the employee questioned, stopping to face Sasuke, and let out a laugh before continuing, “Haha, you’re a cocky one aren’t you. I’m sure you won’t last that long.” With that he began towards the elevators once more. Sasuke scowled; a quick, coordinated movement of his hands followed.
Suddenly, a bright blue light burst into life all throughout the corridor, behind the Dante’s Abyss attendant, causing him to turn and face the Ninja, “Oh that reminds me…” he said as he removed something metal from his dress and thrust it forward.

*CLASP*

As suddenly as Chidori came, it went; it’s bright and intoxicating light with it. Sasuke felt a tight grasp close in on his throat and worse than that, a grasp took hold over his chakra as well. He knew it in his bones, he could feel it, “What the hell?!-What is this sorcery?!”

“Good for keeping contestants in line. Looks like a collar. Now move along tough guy, get into the elevator so we can get this over with. Can’t win that awesome first place prize if you don’t shut up and move on.”

Sasuke glared at the worker with righteous contempt resonating in his eyes, however, he followed his orders. He had said the one thing that would gain his obedience, ‘First place prize’. That had to be one of those artifacts Dumbledore was talking about.

‘PING’ the elevator sounded as the metallic doors opened and out stepped the worker, with Ninja in tow. Sasuke took a double take at his surroundings, his mouth left open a moment before he consciously closed it. The youth had never seen helicopters and too him they were gnarly creatures of wonder.

Such speed its blades have… he thought in amazement. The particular one he was watching lifted off the ground; his jaw dropped again.

“They fly? What are they?!” Sasuke questioned with awe in his voice.

“The choppers?” the attendant asked, confused by the question, “That’s our ride…”

“We’re going to ride… that?!” Sasuke pointed as he exclaimed.

The attendant laughed, pulled a black cloth bag from his dress, and placed it over Sasuke’s head, blindfolding him.

***

Okay, we’re here.” Sasuke heard someone say as the black bag was removed from his head. He surveyed the people on board; only Dante’s Abyss staff.

“This is where you get off.” One of the worker shouted over the loud sounds of the helicopter engine.

Alarmed, Sasuke threw his hands up in protest, “I don’t have my bag!” exclaimed the Uchiha, loud enough to be heard over the chopper engine.

The worker actually laughed, “Not my problem.”

“No, wait, here. There’s an extra, here.” another worker said offering the ninja a pack. Sasuke thanked god for him, as he took the bag.

“Alright, now, JUMP!” the first worker shouted, as if he was extremely irritated at the turn of events.

Sasuke reached forward, grasping a fistful of the workers shirt and pulled him in close, grinned and flung him out the door, “After you!”

Sasuke turned back to the other employee, who had handed him the extra pack. The worker flinched and Sasuke’s face expressed sympathy, “No, I’m sorry. Thank you. The world needs more people like you.” and with that, he descended the distance to the ground.

Sasuke surveyed his surroundings, taking note of every little detail that could aid him. He then decided to take a look through his pack, being that it had caused him so much trouble. The youth kneeled down and unzipped the duffle bag, inside he found what he was looking for, the weapon. He pulled it out and investigated it. He wasn’t quite sure, but he felt like Hammond would be proud. A card dropped to the floor, Sasuke picked it up and read, “I heard they were trying to take your fireballs away, hope this helps. Signed anonymously.” Sasuke scratched his head, half confused and half excited. Whoever it was from, it didn’t matter. He was that much closer to obtaining his vengeance and restoring his once, great clan, the Uchiha to their full glory.

Now, if he could just kill everyone here and claim that artifact…

*BOOM*

A deafening blast sounded, thundering throughout the island. Sasuke turned to face the blast and sometime later caught a glimpse of a young boy, even younger than Sasuke, who seemed to be in bad shape.

Looks like someone already got the party started… Hmm, lucky me. I’ll get my first kill without any trouble… thought the ninja. He then stepped forward with a serious look in his eye. This game was about survival, not morals, and that kid could have an artifact. He knew what had to be done.

However, as Sasuke got within range to put the kid out of his misery, the violet haired child spoke, muttering something about, ‘Gilgamesh’.

Gilgamesh? Where have I heard that name before?... The Uchiha thought. Then it came to him:

"I still need to go find who I was talking about. I've met one of his friends already" Jon took a few more steps forward, but was delayed once again by Sasuke's curiosity. "Who was he?"

Jon craned his head to look back at Sasuke so their eyes met, clearing his throat before speaking.

"Only the King of the Dunes himself. Gilgamesh, they call him".

“You’re Snow’s friend?” Sasuke questioned.

“Snow? YES! Jon Snow! He and I are friends, yes!” pain stricken, he used a little too much energy in his excitement as he responded to the Ninja’s question, hurting himself in the process.

“I see…” Sasuke stated. An image of Naruto, Team Seven, and Konoha flashed in his mind once more; his fists clenched. “Who did this?”

“I’m not sure, but it happened just over there.” Crona spoke, weakly and in between gasps for air.

“Stay here, I won’t let them finish the job. I'll kill them first!” Sasuke said as he started to rocket off into the direction Crona pointed to, but hesitated a moment, “Listen… just, don’t die, okay?"

And like that he was off, like a bullet, he shot into the forest.

[Darth Vader]

It appeared as though the fates of Jon and Crona were destined to not intertwine with each other again just yet.

Jon had managed to scour almost every inch, nook, corner and cranny of the barracks before the contest had begun. Yet the drumming of the alarms as well as the signal for the attention of all competitors brought Snow's search to an inconclusive, abrupt ending. The barracks phase was over; all contestants currently stationed at their bunks were to stay there to be escorted, and everyone else was to head for the elevator and onto the roof to be collected and transported. There's still a chance I can find him, on the Island.. A loose chance, Jon knew. The probability of it happening was next to none, but the bastard still clinged onto the shaky hope. And in his short time spent in the Omniverse, he knew anything was possible, that few things were truly impossible.

There really was some charm to this place with that mental thought, Jon supposed.

When the looping dull and lifeless male voice that came after the sassy, exurbent tones of none of other than Karl Jak himself instructed that contenders would need to bring the black duffel bags situated in their rooms along with them, Jon made his way back to his bunking space with no time to waste. Turning the door handle and barging through his door, Jon hurried over to where the bag was placed; Snow hadn't even moved the luggage sack from the position it had been sitting in when he had gotten hear. The bastard heaved it over his shoulders; he didn't spare a moment to take a peak inside of it, which he had yet to do. There simply was not enough time.

Emerging from his tiny room, the thought of closing the door surpassed Jon as he made quick haste for the elevator. Why did he walk so fast? He began to question himself on it. He didn't want to be here, not at all. It was a terrible thing, a horrible thing. Why did the prospect of mindless slaughter and killing exhilarate and entertain so many people? So many lives wasted away, and for what? So one man or woman could choke on the glory, riches and fame they'd earn from coming out as the victor in all of this?

It simply wasn't right.

As Jon Snow came upon the elevator, it's familiar metallic doors were parted wide and waiting for him. He stepped inside, fur-cloak wavering somewhat as he turned his body in a sudden motion. He took a moment to stare over the pad, still vastly unfamiliar with the mechanisms and operational functions of this machinery. One he got his bearings, a gloved finger struck forward, stabbing into the singular button; the one that would take him straight up too the roof. The elevator doors closed to a shut, and began it's ascension.

The elevator doors re-opened once again in no time, and Jon found himself on the roof. A cold wind nipped and flew itself against him as Jon stepped out into the open. The nights sky was dark and murky, a moonlight hue glimmering down on the surfaces beneath it. Some sort of vehicle which looked useful for gathering wind and flying awaited the bastard on an elevated pad. Four blades fixated at the top of it spun and twirled, and the noise it produced gave Jon something of a bloody earache.

A formal looking man in a suit and tie turned his glance to Jon as he emerged, approaching him quickly. He carried two items in both of his hands.

"Impeccable timing" the man complimented Jon on his apparently solid punctuality. "Your chopper is one of the last to leave. We'd thought you wouldn't show". Jon stared silently at the suited gentleman. He became much more interested and invested in the items he'd been holding in his hands though, as the weapons were handed over to him.

He received the actual weapon itself, first. Something that was clearly crafted for an archer or a marksman rested across Snow's palms. Pressing into certain locks, Jon could fold and unfold the weapon at his whimsy, making it smaller and a bit more discrete. It was rather high-tech and advanced for a man such as Jon Snow, but the more he stared down at it, the more familiar he became with it's make and design, and recognise it's function and uses. Making sure it was in it's folded state, Jon buckled the weapon at his belt, ready to accept the second item.

The ammunition, clearly. Jon didn't even need to stare at these for too long, either. Once he saw it, he knew what these were for, and that some luck had favoured him in this selection. He slugged the stack onto his back, glancing to the formal man for further input.

"They're waiting for you" he grinned faintly as he motioned over to the 'chopper' that sat before Jon. Looking to the flying monstrosity, Jon gave a stern nod, expression shifting to something a little nervous as he approached it. The sounds of blades spinning and whirling became louder and clearer as he stepped, and truly were testing the might and will of his eardrums right now.

The door slid open as Jon approached, and one of the security men welcomed Jon aboard, extending a hand downward to assist Jon up. The doors slammed shut as Jon took his seat and bucked up, the elevator beginning to ascend from the concrete ground. It levitated higher and higher into the sky, and the same feeling of dizziness and exhilaration overtook Jon. A familiar clenching feeling stung at his gut, as though he were hanging upside down by his feet and being shook vigorously many times over.

Aside from this, the short chopper-ride to the Island was plainly uneventful. Jon only shared the space with security men and others under Karl's servitude. Jon did get a nice view of the gleaming ocean through the small, circular window attached to the door, though, the moon's shine bouncing off of the pale-blue waters and calm waves. He caught a brief glimpse of the island as they hovered over it, though everything was so little from the height they flew it, and it was hard to make out anything besides a few dotted landmarks and structures.

The chopper began to lower down as they reached the point of Jon's assigned beginning spot. Snow's heart began to race and pump with anticipation and worry as he slowly unbuckled himself, rising silently and steadily from his seat. Once the flying vehicle was at an equal height from the floor where Jon wouldn't injure himself from jumping, the peacekeeper closest to the door gripped at the handle, rising from his seat slightly to slide it open, silently gesturing Jon out.

Jon took a deep breath as he peered out from the slant doorway. "This is it, isn't it?" he questioned the men with a slight desperation in his tones. "There really is no going back from here... is there?" One of the men stared silently and almost apathetically at Jon, shaking his head slowly in response.

Jon gulped. With a silent nod in return, he glanced back out of the chopper. He felt afraid, and he had no shame in admitting it to himself and anyone else. In a daring motion, he leaped from the chopper, feet landing firmly on the grass floor. He glanced back at the chopper floating above him as the doors slammed shut, the copter slowly drifting further and further away from him, leaving him completely stranded and with little hope for escape.

Jon look around. Now, where was he...?

Some kind of small village or hamlet. The place was completely desolate and abandoned, a ghost town devoid of life, yet things were laid out in a way that made it seem that there was once, or could have been active presence of life and community here. A humongous mountain jutted out from the earth and reached high for the horizon, overshadowing the small village Jon stood in now with it's sheer might and size.

Jon sighed, his warm breath chilling and vaporising into a small whisp of mist. Jon Snow wasn't exactly where he wanted to begin, but he had a rough idea already - that one being that where he stood now wasn't entirely safe for him. Jon's natural talent for strategy and mind for tactics began to initiate itself into his own thinking. The small buildings and huts masked him well enough, yes, but anyone could be lurking around these corners, waiting to get the drop on him. Jon wouldn't even know they were there; he'd be walking right into their hands. Where he needed to be right now was wide, open space. It made him more visible to the naked eye, yes, but he'd be able to see someone charging for him from a mile away. It was a better place than any to gather his thoughts and bearings together.

With his course of action in mind, Jon looked around.Which way? There was so many pathways that cut into so many directions. Jon felt lost, and overwhelmed, almost.

He turned his gaze back toward the mountain, his eyes widening a bit as he came to a realisation.

Yes...

His plan and directions were sorted. He could slip past the mountain. That still gave him some leverage as his movements would still be somewhat masked and his tracks covered, and Jon doubted anyone had reached or was scaling the mountain at this point. Even so, if they'd been doing it for the straight amount of time everything had been happening, they would probably be high enough to not spot Jon passing by, or they simply wouldn't bother to climb all the way back down and waste all that time and effort to attack him.

Jon bared his teeth as he drew his weapon from his belt, the ranged device unfolding with a click as Jon pressed his fingers against the springs buttons. Caution never hurt for anything, and Jon still didn't feel entirely safe here, though he'd yet to see any kind of distant shadow lurking in the distance or behind one of the shacks.

Jon moved forward, moving as quickly as he could, checking every corner as he passed them. He felt on high alert, and he moved quickly, but things still moved along slowly and suspense fully. This would be a long night, he knew.

He just had a silent hope that nobody would need to perish by his own doing, on this night.

[Illidan Stormrage]

Link's eyes, wide and wet, looked out over the horizon. A cold wind whipped his loose blonde hair but it dug especially deep into his back, where once a sword and shield warmed him. He tried to swallow, but his throat scratched, dry and desolate. His gloved hands touched the collar around his neck, forced on him as if he were some common dog. A red bulb lit up on its front, and went out when he took his hand away.

Numbness enveloped him. He could barely think straight. Finding out that he was in a death tournament was horrifying enough. Link killed, but only those who were evil. Monsters that swarmed the innocent, demonic spawn that threatened the world, they deserved the edge of his blade. He was a protector of the weak, of those who could not do so themselves. He protected the lives that would otherwise be extinguished without him.

Now he would kill for the sport of it.

His eyes stung against the wind that assaulted his eyes, but he did not blink as he looked at his feet. All he could think about was the weight stolen from his back. The Master Sword had been confiscated, along with his Hylian Shield and bow and arrows. He breathed erratically as he recalled the guards lumbering over to him, the metal collar in hand, demanding the pinnacle of his strength from him. He remembered the chill that sunk into his blood as they reached out for them, and the utter hopelessness of his ignored pleas. Even Ganondorf had given him a pitying look. How he debased himself, begged to hold onto them for the tournament.

And if that wasn't enough, they blindfolded him and led him off onto a steel machine that whirred in an ear thumping cacophony unlike anything he had heard before. He remembered, in the dark and chained to his seat, how hard he fought back the building anxiety, rising in his chest like a mighty wave, crashing relentlessly against his composure. Scrunching his face, sobs yearning to burst out of his tightly pressed lips, he tried to picture Hyrule. The rolling green fields, the open blue skies, the crystal blue rivers. But every time he visualised those stunning vistas, the mechanical bird shivered or thrummed and he was sent crashing back into his tormented reality.

The only friendly presence in this entire excruciating ordeal was his greatest enemy. How would he stop Ganondorf when he finally turned on him?

A mirthless chuckle left his chapped lips. How had he forgotten? The notion that he had allied with the Gerudo king tightened his chest. What utter nonsense. In any other situation, Link and Ganondorf would have battled by now, fighting with every iota of energy and strength they had, until one was the victor and the other the fallen. Now they were going to work together? The hero and the villain, watching each others backs?

Link scoffed, sandpaper grating against sandpaper. All of his ethics, his morals, anything that signaled who he truly was, had been buried and forgotten for the sake of survival. He was no better than a wild animal.

A sack sat at his feet. He stared at it absently, unsure of what was even in it. What did it matter? It wasn't the Master Sword. He felt a shiver skate over his skin, completely unrelated to the wind. A master swordsman without a sword was ... what? An easy target?

His fingers quested into his tunic and pulled out one of the few items still in his possession; the Ocarina of Time. He felt wetness line his eyes as he brought it to his mouth. In shaky, unsteady breaths, he played the sweet instrument, hoping Saria's Song would bolster his strength, maybe restore some faith in himself. As the last note withered on the breeze, he put the ocarina away. He felt no different.

Finally, slowly, giving in to the anxiety, he closed his eyes in a long blink. Tears welled at the corners, two single drops, and slinked down his face. His lungs clenched with each breath, a heaviness crushing his stomach.This was not who he was. The Hero of Time was a saviour, not an indiscriminate murderer. And yet now, he knew he had no choice. It was only a matter of time before he killed another simply to stay alive, to tick off another competitor in a violence drenched horror show, sinless blood on his hands. Otherwise, he would die. The Triforce of Courage would be lost. Ganondorf would be free to claim it, and no other would rise to stop him.

How I wish Shade could be here right now.

Link took in a deep breath, his glassy eyes watching the clouds skirt the sky, and breathed out slowly. Link bent down, lifted the satchel and threw it over one shoulder. He picked a random direction and started walking, the wind shearing the tears from his face, leaving two damp streaks upon his cheeks, stealing away the last shreds of innocence

From that first step, Link was no longer a hero. He had chosen.

He was a murderer.

[Jak Mar]

..... A BOOM! and then a charred body... he had hurt someone on purpose..., not with Dark Jak... this was new...

Was this really who he was anymore? A murderer in cold blood? He flipped the dataverse com on and Dax had warned him. Jak's realization had come to him "He..s still alive?" Jak fought back a sense of relief and a sense of horror that he had almost killed someone in cold blood... His guns were missing and Daxter wasn't on his shoulder, boy how he missed Dax right now...

The collar around Jak's neck had prevented him from using his powers and this wasn't a great thing. But thank the Precursors that Damus and some others had taught him to fight.

Jak's eyes widened, he had thought of his dead father and a lonely tear fell from his eyes hiding it from view. "Damus, if you are watching from the sky... give me strength to make it through this damn competition.

He took a deep breath and forced back anything else. He had people depending on him, his new allies, and Daxter, and those who cheered for him. Jak grabbed the dynamite and slipped it in his arms and ran....

Jinx at least showed him something....

His throat was dry, and he sucked a bit of water down to wet his throat.
[i]
Dax.. Keep cheerin'.[/i]

[Okor]

Okor rolled his massive shoulders, the bulky survival bag slung across his shoulders. Its weight was easily manageable by a being of his stature. The pilots of the aircraft had complained vehemently about his smell, but some things just couldn't be helped. They seemed to be rather ecstatic to be rid of him, shoving him from the craft before he had a chance to step off of it himself. He brought the duffel bag around to his front, and checked its contents. Nutrition, water, map, comp- Oh. His rotting mouth opening in a savage grin beneath his helmet, he lifted his gift from the bag, and shoved it into his tabard. Surely it had some greater purpose than apparent. It was doubtful they would give someone of his standing a simple toy. That would be simple madness. Pouring the water and nutrients into an induction port, he began his heavy tread towards his destination.

His boots sunk into the soft earth as he shambled up the incline, leaving invigorated vegetation in his footsteps. Was this all the challenge this island had to offer? Hills? Chuckling to himself, he began to think of his allies...

Galel. A Thousand Sons, long since divorced from mortal struggles, seceding from the world on their planet of sorcerers. While their arcane prowess was undeniable, he was unsure if their martial proficiency had vanished in those long centuries poring over forbidden lore. While he found Tzeentchians unsavory, he had little choice but to ally with them in this arena. Still, what exactly made Tzeentchians tick? All they accomplished were temporary things, building glimmering towers that fell to the ground the moment entropy claimed their constructor, weaving magick that, while impressive, did more harm than good. The Rubric of Ahriman was an ideal example of this, turning most of their legion to ash in the blink of an eye. It was simply better in the long term to embrace the inevitable end, in order to never meet it. Better the Daemon you know than the Daemon you don't.

Tartaros. Luna Wolf, and that was curious. The Legion had followed their Primarch Horus into Chaos, with only a rare few individuals staying loyal and escaping the first act of the 'Heresy' of Istvaan. Was he one of them? A twice-traitor? It was a worrying thought. Could someone such as he break the bonds of brotherhood, betray his Primarch, and turn to the Corpse-Emperor? No. He must have faith in his brother. Whatever his past may have been, it hardly mattered now. All he could do was hope that the loyalty of the Legions would see him keep his oaths of alliance in this strange, new realm.. Little to do but trust.

Ah, but the time for idle wondering was over. He crested the hill, spotting his destination. Eying the building, he began to circle it. While unfortunate, he could not have anything impede his victory. He began to move forward, cautiously seeking whatever foes may lurk here. None would stop him. He began to gather his energies in his fist, although they would hopefully be unneeded.

[Ganondorf]

With only a sliver of moon, and the stars, to light the way, a strange man moved through the concealing brush alongside the road. Clad in greys and whites, it seemed unlikely that he could be stealthy on a dark night such as this, yet somehow his clothing seemed to absorb the ambient light passing through the sparse trees that line the road, becoming one with the random splotches of night-time luminescence. Silently, he moved, only the faint crackling of dried leaves and twigs giving any sound, and even that barely audible over the nocturnal wind which blew over the island paradise. Blond hair peeked from under the cowl wrapped around his head, intruding into the only area of visible body on the boy: his eyes, blue as sapphires and keenly darting along his path in search of adversity. Beneath the mask covering his mouth, a smile grew over the pale-skinned man’s lips. It truly WAS a perfect disguise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both the young girl and the newcomer darted off after a brief exchange of words, irritating the Gerudo King with their impetuousness. Not that he wasn’t glad to be rid of them, hardly, but the erratic nature of their youth-filled antics annoyed him. It was as though they had no idea as to the seriousness of this contest; like it truly WAS a game to them. It seemed that the more people he met in this Omniverse, the more it seemed that it was HE and not they who was the strange one.

As the two disappeared into the crowd, an unusual screeching noise drew the Dark Lord’s attention, soon followed by the amused sound of a man’s voice, seemingly coming for everywhere at once. With a curious look around, Ganondorf found that it was actually emanating from some strange cone-like objects tucked into the upper corners of the room.

“Karl Jak here, guys. Hate to say it, not really, but it’s time to get this show on the road. If all contestants would please make their way to the staging area to be fitted with your collars and given your survival kits, that’d be super.”

A grimace crossed over Ganondorf’s features as the voice died away. The collars. He had, of course, heard of what they would do while gathering information about this event in the Dunes. Apparently, they would grant him with additional energy for his most powerful abilities, while simultaneously stripping away most of his others. If that were all, the Gerudo would have called it a fair bargain, but apparently these devices were also equipped with a way to punish contestants for breaking the rules, or trying to remove them, and with an electrical charge no less! After his encounter… no his defeat at Enel’s hands, Ganondorf had no desire to re-experience the hellish pain that had occurred when Enel had sent his thunder through the Dark King’s skull. Still, seeing as how it was a requirement for his entry into the Abyss, Ganondorf had no choice but to accept the terms and hope that he didn’t displease Jak during the performance. Not just for his own sake, but for the man’s as well. The Dark Lord wasn’t one to forgive even the slightest of grievances.

Or perhaps he was. As Ganondorf made his way to the staging area, guided along by those attendants with the fake smiles, he watched Link move along with him. The boy had killed him. Worse than that, he had humiliated him. Yet, the Lord of Darkness was not only working alongside the green-clad Hylian for a second time since arriving here, HE had actually suggested the alliance. Maybe the Gerudo was changing in ways he didn’t quite understand. True, he had bound himself to Link for this event in the hopes that the boy’s combat prowess would see them through to his goal of garnering power and fame, but even that was far more than he would have done prior to his rebirth in this world. And while his previous reservations about attacking Link were to play at being a reformed man, it was strange how easily the façade was beginning to become. Perhaps it was all Her fault.

Ganondorf’s teeth ground as he thought back to that moment. The hope in Firani’s eyes fading to terror as his hands closed around her neck. A deep sadness and pain welled up in him again, a depression he had held at bay through his interactions with the other participants making itself known once again. The Gerudo struggled internally with these feelings, and with keep his outward demeanor placid. It wouldn’t do to show his weakness to anyone here. However, even one such as he couldn’t focus his attention so thoroughly on his outer and inner selves without losing touch with the world around him, and so he was surprised as, on the side opposite from Link, a familiar voice calmly said his name. Or perhaps calmly was too nice a term, for when the Gerudo broke from his internal fight to see who had addressed him, his first sight was that of a pair of icy blue eyes staring at him.

“Eighteen?” Ganondorf said incredulously, nearly stumbling in shock at seeing her. When last they had spoken, the Gerudo had sentenced her to servitude for her behavior, and action he immediately regretted upon making, but one which he couldn’t undo without losing face with Enel, Firani, and possibly with Eighteen as well. Upon his return to the fortress after his death, he hadn’t thought to look for her, what with the events that transpired, yet here she was. The Dark Lord’s face broke into a genuine smile of relief at the sight of her, despite her cold demeanor towards him. As much as he’d hate to admit it, Eighteen was one with whom he was close. She had saved his life, after all. Yet, when he reached out to her, speaking about how glad he was to see her, the android brusquely brushed away his hand, her features hardening.

“Don’t touch me, Ganondorf,” Eighteen said, her eyes as cold as a blizzard’s heart. “You had me put to being your servant. I was thrown into your dungeon and left to rot. Whatever we were before, it’s in the past. Now, we’re nothing.”

The Gerudo made to profess his apologies… to say that he didn’t know that she’d been imprisoned, but Eighteen cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It was for the best, Ganondorf. We couldn’t have worked together for long. I’m surprised we were able to for as long as we did.”

For a moment, neither said anything as they continued to make their way along with the others. Ganondorf found himself in an even more sour mood. His last true ally from his time here had left him, and once again he had only himself to blame. His ego had cost him much, both here and in Hyrule, but this loss he felt nearly as deeply as he did Firani’s. Eighteen was as close a thing as he’d ever had to a friend, barring Nabooru when they were children. For her part, his blond companion seemed perfectly fine with this change in circumstances, for which Ganondorf could hardly blame her.

After a short while, Eighteen broke the silence.

“I almost didn’t recognize you at first, you know. You almost look like…” the woman trailed off, her eyes losing focus as they looked at things long past. Her reverie lasted until they made it to the staging area, at which point she broke away from him and disappeared into the crowd. In turn, each of the contestants were herded away from the group, stripped of their weaponry, and collared before being led out of the room. Ganondorf watched as Link had to hand over his weaponry, and his heart went out to the boy. A fact which irritated and confused the Gerudo. It was unpleasant feeling all this emotion, and particularly towards his nemesis. He should be amused at the boy’s suffering, yet he was not. Such pity was unbefitting for a King such as himself; unsuitable for a man who desired power and lordship. But he didn’t have long to dwell on it before he, himself, was taken to be collared. For his part, he took it with the dignity expected of a noble lord. Head held high, he gracefully moved his thick hair aside for the attendants to do what they had to. Soon after, he found himself aboard what they called a helicopter and on his way to the island. At this point, he didn’t bother asking them about all these strange contraptions that seemed to be commonplace here. For once, Ganondorf felt like it was better not to know.

Outside the helicopter, it was as dark as it had been within. The flying machine left for the skies shortly after depositing its rider, and over its raucous noise, he could hear others in the sky as well. Looking around, Ganondorf discovered that he had been deposited at a crossroads of some sort. In the dim lighting he could hardly see much else, other than that the island seemed forested for the most part. With a sigh, Ganondorf took a knee on the road and began digging through the bag the attendants had given him. Within were all manner of useful items, from food and water, to some strange item which the Gerudo had deemed as interesting before stowing it in the bag to be given a closer look once there was better light. Besides, there were two objects that had interested him more amongst the collection. The first was a compass, and the other a map. Ganondorf smiled as he thought back to the number of these he had hidden in his strongholds for Link to find. The boy had seen them as a boon, never realizing that by showing him a path, Ganondorf was only leading him by the nose to the Great King’s own goals. That smile turned sour as his reminiscing moved towards his defeat. Perhaps he had been wrong to make Link’s path so challenging. The Gerudo King had thought that if it were easy that the Hylian might have puzzled out that he was being used, yet the challenge of his journey molded him into a warrior capable of challenging the Dark Lord.

With a shake of his head, Ganondorf rid himself of the past and returned to the present. Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts. The only thoughts he had time for now were those of survival. A quick perusal of the Map showed him his location and, in spite of himself, he murmured a thanks to Karl for that much information. It was surely more than he had expected. Unfortunately, the map didn’t show Ganondorf where his companion was deposited, and it didn’t seem likely that the island’s proprietor would send a second helicopter to this location just to deposit the boy. No, Ganondorf would have to find him without assistance. He put the rest of his given gear into the bag and stood, once again surveying his surroundings. The Gerudo had a choice. He could follow the road, in one of three directions, or he could wander aimlessly in the woods and hope to stumble across the boy that way. The latter option seemed slightly more foolhardy that the former, and so Ganondorf resolved to follow the road. But which way? Looking at each of the paths, he found himself uncertain as to his path. His right hand subconsciously rose, a dim outline of the Triforce on the back. In Hyrule, it would vibrate when the Triforce pieces were close, but here… it had weakened. The Gerudo no longer felt its Power coursing through him as he did before. And it seemed that it would give no clue as to his direction either.

Another sigh escaped the hulking figure, and with a shake of his head, he simply picked a random direction in which to walk. With no clue as to where the boy was, any direction was as good as the last. He could only hope the boy would also stick to the roads. After a few steps, Ganondorf suddenly stopped. A thought had occurred to him while his mind was wandering. His face was known among many of the combatants, and he had no doubt that at least Gilgamesh would want him dead as soon as he laid eyes on him. Of course, it was likely that they’d kill anyone as soon as they set eyes on them, if what Karl Jak said upon his arrival here was the be believed. Still, perhaps a change was necessary to help him escape more personal threats. The Gerudo considered a few options as he stood in the middle of the road. Some he discarded immediately, such as that of Firani, or of another competitor. The former was too painful for him to adopt, while the latter might cause problems were he to meet Link, if the boy wouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then, an idea struck and in the moonlight the Ganondorf’s smile was truly sinister. He would choose a form the boy would recognize from home. One that Link trusted.

Slowly, the Gerudo’s features shifted. His armor faded into his body, replaced with dull, grey clothing. His hair receded, turning blonde before being covered with a cowl. Even his mighty frame shrunk, becoming lithe and sleek. In short time, his adopted form was complete and the Demon King couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the thought of how Link would react to his appearance. After all, Sheik had been Zelda’s adopted form during her hiding from Ganondorf himself. With his change complete, the faux-Sheik moved into the woods alongside the road and continued on his way.

[Monkey D. Luffy]

"Mm . . nmnnm . . ahhww . . . " Luffy murmured nonsense while his eyelids lazily peeled open, eliciting him to shield both with a bracing palm. Vibrant streams of scintillating moonlight bathed his visage, a stark contrast to the umbral chamber he'd wearily zonked out within. Loud clamors and incessant banters he last recalled were replaced with a whisking breeze and soft clashing of far-off whitecaps, verily bogged by fluttering propellers in the distance.

Following Karl Jak's instructive broadcast, Straw Hat hefted to his sandals, cracking his neck and stretching his limbs. Noting an unfamiliar clink, he began tugging at his nape, fondling a restrictive metallic device. Ack! The free-spirited adventure-seeker had been nabbed and collared!

"Ah well, no choice. Guess I hafta' wear this clunky thing for now," He conceded, surmising the best solution of simply resigning himself to necessary stipulations. Rummaging through a tote bag set upon the ground near his person, stretch dug out an opulence of plentiful rations and supplies. Instinctively, he began unravelling the knapsack of goodies in preparation to indulge.

Free food! Woohooo! . . . wait, only four huh? Ermm, if Sanji were here he'd say to save these . . . Dang it, I'm putting you back, but better believe I'll ruin you later, meat!

Wasting little time, as time was in even shorter supply than sustenance, the rubber pirate began to trek his way toward an as of yet indefinite terminus. Where he advanced was vastly consequential, nevertheless remaining immobile like a sitting duck would herald far worse repercussions.

******

An eternity came and went without a single soul in sight along the encircling horizon. Luffy began to ponder whether he was truly abandoned on this seemingly deserted island. Finally, after a lonesome journey, the captain's hankering washed away alongside his dribbling perspiration; he was flooded with elation as a duet of familiar faces melded into view.

"Ooyy! Guuey! Wriggles!" Mugiwara called out to the couplet of wee lasses. Receiving him in kind, Guu and Desco waved him over with flailing stubs and tentacles. As if hasting towards a coffer of golden nuggets, Luffy jaunted over to join the gruesome twosome.

"Hello Straw Hat, I see you survived that secretary's wrath. So now where shou–" The bob-locked princess halted her query as a subtle rustling quivered amidst the proximal brush.

Thwack! Wham! Cunk!

An ensuing exchange of blows commenced, ceasing in a matter of moments with the violet-garbed assailant fleeing with her tail tucked between her legs, scurrying off to lick her wounds with the promise of future confrontation.

"Yeek! Bad girl didn't waste time attacking Desco's friends," The floating mass of feelers quipped, levitating over to close the group circle. Following proper salutations, the triad stipulated whilst cataloging their coveted stockpile of effects.

"Our combined forces should suffice, let's get moving before someone else sweeps by," The pint-sized princess decreed with charmingly monotonous inflection. Placing her nubby hand at the huddle's center, Guu invited her cohorts to mirror the curtsy and harmonize their union via overlapping palms. Sealing their bizarre amalgam as nakama, Luffy flared with invigorating mirth.

"Awright!! Where to next?? Let's go exploring!!"

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#19 Ganondorf and #18 Link vs #13 Strazio Rockwell

Strazio Rockwell gripped the rotting limb in one hand as he hugged the side of the road. Just because he had been given a severed arm didn’t mean he wasn’t going to put it to some damn use.

Up ahead, Strazio saw a hulking figure walking almost casually down the street. Never one to balk away from the competition, the Defender of Darkshire casually walked up onto the road and turned to look at the man approaching him.

“Hello,” Ganondorf replied as he lifted a hand and waved it at the white-haired warrior. “I also enjoy an early morning walk down the streets.” The dark-skinned man with wild red hair flashed a smile and dipped his head at Strazio. “I’m Ganondorf, and you are?”

“Here to win,” Strazio replied bluntly as he tried to figure out where the man could be hiding a weapon on his person. Ganondorf’s bag certainly seemed to be bulging a little more than it should have but did that mean he was packing some serious heat or just a handful of coconuts? “You look familiar…”

“That’s flattering,” Ganondorf replied as he leaned over and let his bag slid from his shoulder to the ground. “But you seem like a man who is all about business, so why don’t we talk business then?”

The Defender of Darkshire dropped his own bag and rushed forward, gripping the severed Grecian arm like it was a sword made of the finest steel. He swung the appendage at the Gerudo’s bearded face, and it was with more a look of confusion than fright that Ganondorf hopped back to avoid the arc of the swinging ‘weapon.’ For a moment, the would-be King of the Dunes glanced at his bag, but before he had a chance to make a move for it, Strazio lunged at him again.

“Nice equipment,” Ganondorf muttered as he avoided another swing of the arm. Although the white-haired man was clearly trained in how to handle weapons, he was unable to swing the awkward, bending limb with the same finesse he would have with an actual sword. “You show great promise… you should seek me out at my home in the Dunes.”

Another! Another would-be king who wanted Strazio to kneel at his feet?

No.

“Not a chance!” Strazio bellowed as he slung the arm around his shoulder and threw out his palms. Ganondorf saw the flash the collar light but failed to make the connection before the bolt of white energy erupted from the other man’s extended palms. The force of the explosion was enough to drive Strazio backwards, which meant it was more than enough to stun the Gerudo King and hurtle him onto his haunches.

The light faded, revealing that parts of Strazio’s hands and arms were now dripping blood, as if he had sacrificed his own flesh into the attack.

“How does it feel to be humbled?” Strazio replied as he started toward the Gerudo, who remained on his backside. Actually…Ganondorf was smiling as the snarling warrior approached him. “What?”

“Why don’t you tell me how it feels?” The warlock replied as he pointed to something behind the Defender of Darkshire.

With a scowl, Strazio turned just in time to see the Hero of Time make a decision that, although many saw it coming, was still enough to stun anyone in the viewing audience who knew his past. Without a second thought, Link pulled the trigger on the rocket launcher, and a heartbeat later, the missile exploded at Strazio’s feet. As Ganondorf watched with a faint grin, a roasting figure flew over his head and slammed into the pavement.

The Gerudo king rose to his feet clapping his hands as Link walked over to him. “Your aim needs some work… that’s probably a little heavier than a wooden bow, isn’t it?”

Before Link could answer, the two allies both heard a hoarse cough from a few yards away, prompting Ganondorf to grin. “I think I could have been great friends with this guy.” The pair turned to see, oddly enough, Strazio Rockwell back on his own two feet. “This is the part where you run away.”

“Never,” Strazio barked as he started to walk toward the pair. With each step, the Defender of Darkshire’s scorched flesh burned away, leaving behind an endoskeleton of white-hot energy that radiated with enough light to guide in some lost ships. After a few steps, only a glowing white figure of pure anger remained. “Die.”

With a staggering speed, Strazio Rockwell shot forward and buried a burning fist into Ganondorf’s gut. The Gerudo kick let out a grunt, but before he could retaliate, a second hand grabbed him by the neck and threw him backwards. As Strazio pressed the attack against Link, his other foe hit the street and immediately turned to his bulging duffel bag.

As Ganondorf fiddled with zippers, Link ate a glowing white fist. A beat later, a severed arm swung down and smashed against the Hero of Time’s face, leaving behind a bruise and smear of centuries-old blood against the young warrior’s cheek.

“Friend!” Ganondorf shouted, prompting Strazio to spin to confront the Gerudo. The king was holding a large oblong sphere in his hand that radiated a beautiful shade of silver in the light of Strazio’s transformation. “This is where we part ways.”

Before the Defender of Darkshire could attack once more, the egg released a burst of light into the early morning sky, and in a matter of seconds, that mass of energy took a shape.

…the shape of a very large and very angry Silver Rathalos.

“What sorcery is this?” Strazio screamed as the dragon swooped down and smashed him into the pavement beneath one of its massive hands.

“Get rid of him,” Ganondorf commanded the creature, which responded by closing its clawed hand around the writhing, glowing body of its master’s foe. With a kick of its wings, the Rathalos took flight, leaving Strazio to angrily rip and tear at its hand as the pair ascended further and further into the sky. Each kick of its wings and every failed attempt to tear apart the monster caused the light of Strazio’s transformation to dull.

When they were high enough that a now un-transformed Strazio could see the entire island, the Rathalos released its grip, letting the defender of Darkshire plunge back into the Abyss.

[spoiler]Strazio Rockwell has widespread burns, and his left arm will be broken when he lands -- 1 minor and 1 major injury (+10 Damage)
Ganondorf has a some cuts and scrapes from the Overload blast -- Minor Injury (+2 Damage)
Link has a bruise on his face -- Story injury (+0 Damage)
Strazio Rockwell has used Overload (-2 SP) and Avatar of Anger (-1 SP)
Strazio has lost his bag (but not his 'weapon'), which can be taken by Link and Ganondorf
Ganondorf has used the Silver Rathalos Egg, which will remain inert for 24 OOC hours from the posting of this F2F[/spoiler]

[Morene Fellon]

It didn't take long before Delsin got booted off a helicopter and into a deadly island with nothing but a backpack and a collar on his neck, not at all. Thankfully enough for Delsin, he fell onto what seemed to be somewhat of a mountainous range, although not the top of it, unfortunately. That also didn't help him land either, as most all of it was covered in rocks.

Delsin lay on the rocky, cold ground, groaning as he did so. Now he was really regretting taking a spot in this whole competition thing. Delsin wanted to numb the pain using his powers, but alas, nothing worked. He had to get through this, otherwise that collar was going to stay. Funny, how he missed the whole part about not having powers when trying to get them back as he signed up for this.

Sitting upright, Delsin mumbled to himself out of annoyance. "Man, I'm already not liking this..."

Trying to stretch his back outwards to relieve himself from the fall he had just took, Delsin then felt his backpack shuffling about. He smiled as he remembered it's existence. Reaching back, Delsin grabbed the bag, taking it off as he sat, before unzipping it. Digging his arm in there, he had felt some paper, and upon inspection, it was his map.

Delsin sighed in relief, unfolding the paper in his hands. There was a single star that marked the location of his current position. Luckily enough for him, the Clinic was close, which was his plan in the first place. Chuckling to himself, Delsin folded the map up again, before placing it gently in the bag, and zipping it back closed. Even though the height didn't really help his fall, Delsin had to admit, he had a nice view of the place. Hell, he could even see the Clinic almost right next to him.

"Alright, Del... If ya get to the Clinic first, you'll have a... relatively decent base of defense. Just hope Jak and the Doc comes along..." Delsin continued to talk to himself, as he slowly stood from where he was previously sitting. Shaking his head, Delsin figured it was a good idea to start running, since sitting around doing nothing wasn't going to help him or anybody hoping to team up with Delsin either.

Almost as fast as he got up to this mountainous range, Delsin just as quickly, began to descent downwards, watching the Clinic get closer and closer by the minute. Delsin was pretty thankful that he was used to climbing stuff, otherwise this would have had a great deal on his hands.It took a few moments, but as soon as Delsin got to ground level, he had then remembered about his randomly selected weapon. He didn't quite see it when he had first opened his bag, from what he saw, it was metallic.

As Delsin continued to jog and think, he quickly found himself only a few meters away from the Clinic. Not wanting to go inside of the building itself just yet, Delsin leaned against the wall of the Clinic, before opening his bag again, quickly finding his two weapons. He gulped upon realization of what they were. Two, metallic, circular disks. It only took a moment of worry before that feeling changed his expression into a sly grin. Zipping his bag back up, Delsin leaned over the wall, looking at the roads in the far distance, leading into the diner.

"This is genius, Delsin, absolutely genius...!" Delsin said to himself, quickly running to the road he saw in the distance, making sure nobody was watching. As soon as he got onto the road itself, Delsin took no time at all to grab his bag, unzip it once more, take out his weapon, and pull the pin. Upon activating his weapon, Delsin layed it on the ground, right next to the road itself, making sure it was hidden. 'Gotta think fast, gotta think fast.'

Frantically looking to his flanks, Delsin ran off to his right, right onto the crossroads that led into the Clinic itself. Doing the same thing he did in front of the Diner, Delsin pulled the pin of the circular disk, and placed it down once again on the side of the road, easy to miss. Not wanting to activate it himself, Delsin ran back off to the Clinic, breathing heavily. Laughing to himself, Delsin was surprised at how quickly he played out his strategy. It was only about an hour ago he got dropped off into the island, and the Clinic was already his.

Well, at least he could hope that was the case...

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#31 Okor vs #12 Dr. McNinja

Okor approached the clinic and made his way through the entranceway.

As the plague marine walked across the lobby, he was somewhat amused when he heard someone call out to him. “Oh hey, I didn’t know I had any appointments just yet!” Okor paused and turned to see a man in a lab coat and a black mask sitting on the other side of the reception desk. The doctor waved a hand—one that had metal blades for fingers—as he fumbled around for something on the desk. “Just let me find the forms for you to fill out.”

The man sounded so sure of himself that for a brief moment, Okor wondered if he really was some type of doctor.

That was, of course, until the man sprang up on the desk and vanished in a blur of white and black. A beat later, Okor let out a grunt as he felt something impact his side, and that was followed by the clomp-clomp of shoes on the ground behind him. “Base!” McNinja shouted, his exuberant tone fading away as he took a more detailed look at the ‘blood’ on his claws. “What the?” The doctor-slash-ninja turned around just in time for Okor to pivot and smash him in the face with a plague-afflicted fist.

Dr. McNinja let out a yelp as the impact of fist against face released a burst of whatever the hell coated Okor’s hand into the air. The man smashed against a gurney but was quick to recover. “I—I have a cure for that… I think,” he mumbled as he tried to wipe away the sizzling filth. “But we’ll have to reschedule your appointment for a later date, I think. How about noon?”

Before giving the plague disciple a chance to react, Dr. McNinja kicked the gurney at Okor and made a rush for the doors. The metal bed crashed into his opponent and caused him to stumble backwards and crash through the reception desk.

[spoiler]Dr. McNinja has some facial discomfort from some steamy filth -- (+1 Damage)
Okor has some slash marks on his side (or at least that's what people tell him) -- (+1 Damage)
Okor has used Level 0 Plague Fist (-1 SP)
Dr. McNinja has used Level 0 BASE (-1 SP)[/spoiler]

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#10 Alain Velgr vs #17 Lubbock

Lubbock had taken the long way around the East Blair Tunnel. As much as he would have loved to learn more about the strange, sad woman with the fiery eyes, he didn’t feel like taking another pointed piece of metal through the leg to figure out the story.

So after another hour or so of half-walking, half-limping down the island’s eastern highway, the green-haired man decided to take a little respite. After all, his map told him he was at the bottom corner of the island, which meant he’d have a wonderful view of the ocean from where he was at.

“Maybe I can watch the sunset from here…” Lubbock whispered to himself as he tried to find a spot to relax. Before he could, he spotted what seemed to be the air itself shaking a few yards away. “Huh?” He muttered as a man in red suddenly stepped out from nothing. “Hey, what’s up?” Lubbock whispered, hoping that he wasn’t about to be shot again.

The figure gave no response as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red and white sphere. While he had no idea what he was looking at, Lubbock knew that he wasn’t about to be jumped twice in the span of an hour. Stumbling on his bum leg, the youth once again willed a thread blade into existence and thrust it at his foe.

By the time Alain Velgr dropped the Pokeball, the blade caught him in the shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but it was enough to cause the mercenary to grit his teeth and pull back into the shadows as the ball cracked open in a flash of light.

Lubbock used his arm to shield against the light, and when he lowered his limb, he saw that the flash had been replaced by five-foot gray humanoid creature with four limbs. Clad only in what seemed to be wrestling tights, the monster smirked with a mouth that was mostly lips as it ran one of its four hands over the trio of crests that adorned its skull.

“Hi bud,” Lubbock muttered weakly.

“MACHAMP!”

In a blur, the fighting monster rushed Lubbock and clubbed him with two of its hands, smashing the youth’s jaw and shoulder. A beat later, another pair of thunderous, ham-sized fists crashed against his chest and skull. The former assassin tried to lash out with his thread blade, but before he could find an angle, the creature grabbed his arm and twisted it, snapping the bone and nearly severing the entire limb.

With a weak grunt, Lubbock smacked the creature in the side of the skull with his gloved hand. The Machamp let out a snort as it drove the heel of its foot into its opponent’s injured leg, causing that bone to snap backwards. As Lubbock shrieked in pain, the Fighting Pokémon scooped up the former assassin and hurtled him into the ocean. With the man removed, Machamp turned around and watched as Alain stepped back out of his stealth.

The mercenary clapped once for the creature before recalling it into the ball and vanishing back into the night.

On the slope below, Lubbock rested against the rocks—his eyes glazed over as he tried to will himself to keep fighting. Even as the water around him grew red with his blood, he kept quiet, knowing that he’d be dead if he gave his opponent the slightest hint that he hadn’t given up the ghost.

[spoiler]Lubbock has used his Level 0 Super Move Thread Blade (-1 SP)
Alain has a cut to his shoulder. It stings a wee bit -- +1 Damage
Pokeball rolled '4'
Lubbock has a broken arm and a broken leg -- Two major injuries (+12 damage)[/spoiler]

[Galel Baraz]

The ride in the aircraft had been a short one, relatively speaking. The blackened windows were nothing new, in fact, the idea of windows in the transport compartment was a new one. Thunderhawks had no such structural weaknesses, instead opting for video cameras on the outside hull that sent their feed to the Heads-up-Display on the Space Marine's helmets. Even the Valkyrie transports of the Imperial Guard didn't have windows, and instead had viewscreens inside the troop compartments. That any culture advanced enough to produce aircraft would provide windows anywhere except for the Cockpit was a mystery to Galel, although he supposed that if this craft was not military, it could explain the egregious oversight.

Soon enough he felt the aircraft descend, and he sat up, his millenia-old power armour creaking as it scraped against itself. The seats had been too small for him, so he had been forced to sit on the floor. His books had been confiscated by the organizers before he boarded the aircraft, so his mind had time to wander, examining the beings he had met during his travel to the competition; Okor, Tartaros, and Carn Val.

Okor, the plague marine, herald of Nurgle and member of the Death Guard legion. An infested hive of scum and filth, but a consistent one. He seemed the most easily trusted of the three, and the most likely to keep his promises. Nurglites were always consistent, of course. Consistent to the point of boredom, in Galel's opinion, but he had never truly hated them. Opposed them, fought them? Of course, but that was the will of his god, and so he must obey. Despite the differences, however, he liked Okor the most of all three potential allies, and thus made a mental note to avoid betraying him.

Tartaros, the Luna Wolf, an enigma wrapped in a mystery, but not very well. Perhaps the least trustworthy of the group, and the one Galel would always be watching. His iconography and colours were too old, too worn to be made out clearly, but he was clearly offended by his Primarch's name. Such a thing was the province of the rare intersection of loyalist and traitor, the renegades who turn their back on all things. They were the worst of all space marines, unwilling to acknowledge the betrayal of the corpse-emperor and accept the light of the Dark Gods, and unwilling to defend their former master's domain. Tartaros would likely betray both Okor and Galel, given the chance.

Carn Val, the 'Anomaly', the Warpspawn. A mystery cloaked in a riddle hidden within an enigma, and very well. An unknown factor, and one that could prove to be the downfall of any schemes he made. Best to keep it at arms length, no closer, no further. The wild card in his plans, but a promising prospect that would need to be researched further.

The aircraft slowed and thudded against the ground, jolting Galel from his thoughts as the door opened and air rushed into the craft. "Alright, we're here. Good luck big guy, you'll need it!" One of the attendants said, patting him on the lower Pauldron. Galel nodded to the attendant. "Watch for my brethren and I, and watch closely." Galel said, grinning beneath his helmet and striding out of the craft. He slung his duffel bag onto the ground in front of him, looking inside and examining its contents. Nutrients, Fluids, a Map, and a Compass. He thought as air rushed down towards him, blowing the map about. Had be not been holding on to it, it would've been blown clear away. As it was, the map tore ever so slightly. Galel frown, glancing behind him as the Aircraft began to ascend and leave him. Now, to find Alpha, Omega Lamba...

The Sorcerer looked back to the map, the rapid chopping sound of the aircraft's rotor blades fading away quickly. A large red X marked his current location, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Interesting. He pondered, and then folded the map and placed it back in his bag. Standing, he examined his surroundings. A small clearing greeted him, obviously cleared prior to the competition to be used as a drop-off point, as evident by several nearby stumps. Galel checked him compass, then nodded and turned right, setting off. I'll scout the structure, and then head to the rendezvous point. He noted, his walk speeding into a run. The loud clang of metal could be heard, and were he walking on a structure, the floor would've shaken beneath the weight of the Astartes.

[Victor Wolfe]

Victor Wolfe examined his new surroundings, he had decided to sleep through the time past registration and awoke on the island that he assumed the tournament was to take place on. " So this is it, looks to be a very fun event, all we need to do is survive and then dominate the weak after fights. And to do that we shall lay low, stick to the edge of the island to avoid confrontation, and after a couple of days pick off the injured." Victor thought " seems like the logical plan, although it could also be advised to find one of the weaker combatants and kill them before they get beaten by stronger opponents." The voice in Victor's head responded. But Victor decided against this approach, being rash and too eager had gotten him in trouble before.

Never again will Victor allow himself to fall into the pace of his opponent and allow himself to be utterly beaten by the limits of his own stamina. Next time any fight would be over quick like the assassin he was.

Deciding to check the bag next to him he noticed his weapon, " hm, this could work out in my favour, if used right it fits my abilities, not as good as my daggers would but you have to work with what you get, and it could have been much worse."

Victor scouted out his surroundings, the land was flat and near a large area of water, Victor liked this, if he got hungry he could fish, all he would need would be a stick, some string that he could find a way of making using the fabric of his clothing, and a hook, he could always remove one of the bottom links of his chain mail with a sharp rock, bait would be easy enough to find, moving a large rock could reveal lots of it. However before all that he was best moving on, he did not know if the others knew the starting locations on the island, but just incase it was probably a wise move to get out of this area.

He felt the machine around his neck, and noticed another thing, just as the interviewer had told him, his power to regenerate was deactivated, this sent a shiver down Wolfe's spine, now if he got injured he would have to live with the consequences whilst on this island, hit and run would no longer be a totally risk free strategy. " Well this situation is a lot more dangerous than we anticipated isn't it" Victor thought, " Well you signed us up for this, if you want to run and hide or lay down and die now then thats up to you." the voice answered back. "No Way, this gives me more of a chance to test my skills , besides this could be a few days of fun on a tropical island, and we don't even have to use vacation days for this" Victor laughed.

Victor decided he would try and stick to the coast, he imagined that many people would try heading inland to scout out the buildings or climb the mountain to get a better view of the island, this would lead many into early confrontations, If he could avoid fighting on day one he would. And so he set off, looking forward to the next part in this survival game.

[Chloe Price]

I found a nice blackberry bush nearby one of the houses. I opened my duffel bag to use it as a storage...

There was already food inside.

"Looks like I won't have to gather food..." I said to myself. "Not for now, anyway..." I then went back to where I found myself when the chopper landed. Nothing of interest yet. "What am I gonna do until I find someone?" I asked myself. "I guess I could survey the houses...." I walked into one of the nearby buildings at random. The living room wasn't too exciting; a couch, a couple ferns... "What is this supposed to be? Is Karl planning real estate here?" I commented. I walked into the kitchen. A microwave, an oven, and a dinner table. There were a few cupboards here and there. Other than that, not much that excited me. Is there any benefit to these buildings? I thought to myself. I guess I could use the environment to my advantage here, or something... I then looked inside the cupboards; nothing of interest. "Why the heck would Karl make houses with nothing of interest?" I asked no one in particular. Shrugging, I continued looking around the house to find absolutely nothing. I searched inside a single bedroom; nothing. "Well, this visit was useless..." I said to myself. I then went back downstairs and ran out the door, at super speed. "That wasn't too interesting..." I complained, as if I expected it to be a Zelda puzzle or something. I then walked towards another house to check it out. I entered the door to see that they at least put more thought in decorating. A nice chandelier lit up the living room, which had a coffee table, a couch, even a console. I begun to complain inside my head about why they would leave a gaming console in a house with no TV. Nonetheless, I walked into the kitchen to find, yet again, nothing of interest. However, it did have a stove with an oven, a fridge, and a nice kitchen table and chair set. I looked inside the fridge and thought to myself; Why the flip does this place have no interesting things whatsoever? I then left, at super speed, and decided to just relax outside. "Maybe next year, they'll add some items of interest inside these houses." I said to myself. Duffel bag in hand, I went back over to scope the surroundings. A lot of buildings were around. I also saw a beach nearby. "Maybe the shoreline will have something of actual interest..." I said to myself. While walking towards the shoreline, I stopped myself. "It may be dangerous, I think the chemicals used for Karl Jak's hair gel go in there." I commented. "And he uses enough hair gel to give a humpback whale an Elvis hairstyle." After a few more minutes of debating, I just decided to head back to the second house and wait for a fight to start, running back there at super speed.

[Karl Jak]

"How we all doing down there?" Karl Jak's voice found every prime on the island. "You are all doing just wonderful, and while no one has yet to die, the bloodshed so far has been positively fabulous. In fact, people are so impressed that I'm going to reward you all by dropping a little package for whoever wants to live a little.

"The chopper will drop it off at 0600 hours near the school. Toodles."

Please see Day 1, Part 1 Discussion for how to enter this Easter Egg Event

[Jak Mar]

Jak eyed his surroundings quietly and hid everything where it wouldn't been seen... as for the explosion... that didn't fare well because of the noise it made.

He would have to lay low for a while... let some of the others pick each other off... and keep calm. There was no voices in his head, and that came as a sudden relief to the man....

Jak typed real quick to Daxter, keep me updated on what you hear as rumors and such...

Time to put that "lay low" thing to good use.

It would take a bit longer but it would be cautious...

Jak kept his thoughts to himself as he tried to keep each step quiet, and looked for another hiding spot.

The events of the morning had been stuck in his mind and he pushed it back. He would deal with that later. He never killed out of spite, right?

The man took the time to let the fresh air run through his hair and let the somewhat peaceful sounds of nature run through his long ears. No longer would he be the one hunted, it was his turn to hunt.

Just then, Karl's voice had gotten Jak's attention. He thought to himself "A package? Is it worth it?"