Zone C -- Megacity One

[Karl Jak]

End Day 2

Start Day 3 -- Early Morning (12 am to 6 am)

It is now raining. Everywhere on the island. Enjoy.

This phase ends at 430 CDT tomorrow, the 23rd of June

[Todd Ingram]

The sour feeling that the retreat left within Batman's stomach was getting to him.
'Was it the right thing to do, to retreat? Those two primes looked like any other, even though I think we could take them on, this world, things keep surprising me. We got our asses handed to us by a couple of fairies, granted they outnumbered us but it still stings. Tony is right, we need more allies if we want to survive this. A single item won't make the difference. We need a good plan, a strategy with plenty of pawns to move.'

The duo wandered through the streets, Every now and then glancing over their shoulders, making sure the two men they noticed earlier weren't following them. Tony checked his tablet to see If Karl gave out any new information. Unfortunatly there were no item drops annonces nearby. Hè Did however find the DA coliseum app, where he noticed one of his allies fighting for their lives.

"Damnit, they got Jak!" Suddenly broke the silence of the walk.

Bruce turned around, "who is Jak?".

"I called him earlier, trying to meet up with him. I was wondering why he was taking forever but it seems Karl threw him in the arena."

The battle on the screen was brutal, Jak was transformed in combat with a red and black masked clown, while a third was trying to finish them off. "Is he a friend of yours?" Bruce asked, sincerely showing compassion.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"I hope he gets out." It dawned to Bruce that he could be selected for the death match himself. He could only hope luck was on his side for the remainder of this competition. He never expected anything like this when he signed up.

The almost dynamic duo walked through a deserted street. Passing the broken window of a store long gone. It was a depressing sight, it was time they left this murder town.

Batman and Dante moving c16 to c4

[Strazio Rockwell]

As Strazio entered the safehouse his body entered a fugue state that precipitated a wicked downfall. Adrenaline mixed with the pink leaf remnants and formed a stomach churning cocktail. A day’s worth of hiking, running, and starvation drained the poor prime and left him delirious. The edges of his vision blurred and his entire body trembled as it fought to stay standing. His eyes fell upon the grey-skinned troll and a chuckle escaped his lips. Of all the things to hallucinate his mind chose to construct the joker. And upon that realization Strazio collapsed, falling to the floor. Even narcoleptics struggled to sleep as sound as the exhausted mage.

--

“Heyyy, wakey wakey ragey magey,” Gamzee sung as his shook his mentor.

The troll’s sing-song was cut short as Strazio bolted upright. In a fit of unconscious aggression, Strazio’s hand found its way to Gamzee’s neck. He clutched the troll’s windpipe and pushed upwards, flipped the high blood onto his back. In less than a second the Avatar of Rage had his student pinned to the ground, trying to snuff the life out of him.

“Uhhh,” Gamzee said, forcing the words out, “bro, need air.”

Strazio’s grip loosened as his mind came back online.

“Fuck you’re hard to choke, your neck is like a fuckin’ steel pipe,” he said, “what’re you doing here?”

“Same as you I s’pose just takin’ in the wicked miracles of this island,” Gamzee answered.

Strazio stood up and offered a hand to his apprentice. Battered and beaten the two still managed to share a smile. If only for a second that is, Strazio’s smile quickly disintegrated in a scowl.

“This place sucks, I’m wet, burned, hungry, and bleeding,” Strazio said, “I don’t know if you got my message, but a lightning werewolf beat the crap outta me.”

“Woah, that sounds badass.”

“Yeah it wasn’t, I threw him off a cliff though, dude’s gotta be fucked by now,” Strazio said.

For a long while the two just sat on the safehouse floor and talked. They talked about their time on the island and the trials they had endured. More accurately, Strazio complained and Gamzee reminisced.

“We should team up,” Strazio finally said.

Gamzee nodded his head, but asked, “what happened to flyin’ solo?”

“As much as I’d like to, I’ve got a feeling people are rolling in packs,” he said, “besides how else am I supposed to make sure you stay out of trouble?”

With their alliance forged and daylight burning they stepped out into the world, ready to face the horrors of the Abyss.

Gamzee and Straz moving from safehouse c to C21

[Simon]

The two crusaders kept to the streets now, not wanting to exhaust themselves too much. For now, both red coat and black cowl trudged on, not having much to say. Despite Dante's insistence, they made no effort to obtain a vehicle like that pair of powerhouses- Batman believed firmly it would attract too much unwarranted attention.

How far anyone could get in a reclaimed car would be limited nonetheless, considering the poor conditions this metropolis was left in. The lighting throughout the streets was inconsistent, and it seemed like a coin toss as to whether any given electrical device was working or not. Thoughts circulated around about what could've happened to turn this island into a deserted resort, but nothing could be laid certain. The only thing that anyone could confirm to be working were the Safehouses and everything in them. And, of course, the various airborne and stealth cameras for Syntech to spy on every nook of the island.

Eventually, the detective pulled out his tablet again. In their escape from the last drop point, Batman had led the way down a detour, in hopes of shaking off potential pursuit. By the time he had confirmed a lack of anyone trying to follow them, the duo had been led a bit off-course from where Dante had intended to go. The most direct route now would take them longer to go through- and who knows how long that would take, what with the Omniverse's bizarre rules.

The dark knight's musing were interrupted by a low growl. He looked immediately to Tony, who only offered a weak stare in response. "Sorry. Craving food," the devil hunter apologized, then went on to elaborate, "Real food, not this packaged garbage. I tried raiding a hotel earlier, didn't have anything."

Shoving aside the ethical concerns of looting, Batman chose instead to probe further about the matter. "I find it hard to believe you didn't find anything," he said, deliberately provoking further response.

"Just water. Checked the fridges and everything," Dante explained, really trying to be genuine. The detective seemed to buy it, mentally ticking off another strange fact in the circumstances of this island.

"Let's make for that safe house again, then," the vigilante compromised, "We can eat some more, and reset our collars while we're at it. It's a new day, after all." Tony agreed with a mere nod, the two of them continuing to plod on.

Batman and Dante moving to C5 from C4.

[MADBULL34]

Sergeant John Estes snored loudly within the cab of the old Buick. Thirty yards distant shards of broken glass littered the sidewalk outside a forgotten tavern. Much like every other corner of the zone, the streets were deserted, indeed the sign above the tavern was so dusty the name couldn't even be made out. Any rookie cop could have guessed the bar had been ransacked and robbed, but out here in the lonely streets of Mega City One, there was no one left to hunt for clues and apprehend the perpetrators.
 
A tepid six pack of ancient beer sat half drunken on the floor of the Buick. The smell of the old beer was sour, like a vat of moldy pickles, but that hadn't stopped the lazy cop from indulging himself. His former partner, Isaac Clarke, had been culled to take part in another one of Karl Jak’s mad coliseum fights.  Mad Bull had once again been left to himself.  In times like this the isolation could get a lesser man down, but Sergeant John Estes was a fearless officer who had become well accustomed to watching partners come and go. He had seen countless other cops shot down in the mean streets of Coruscant and New York City, so he turned to the one source of solace that never failed him: lots of beer and a nap.
 
As the burly man dozed, the electronic tablet in his supply pack began to suddenly chime a new alert.-Ting Da Ting! Ting Da Ting!
 
BAAAARUP!
 
Mad Bull let loose a powerful belch that shook the rusty Buick along it's worn out frame, yet the little device continued to sing it's annoying alert.
 
“Shattup already!” he shouted. A hairy hand reached to the car floor and snapped another can of beer from the plastic ring. Sleepy guzzled the spoiled alcohol, crumpled the can against his forehead and tossed it out the window. It landed with a metallic rattle amongst a pile of 10-12 more crushed cans.
 
The barrel chested lawman groped sleepily for the tablet and shook it like a crying baby. “SHATTUP!” he bellowed in frustration, forgetting how to unfreeze the screen.  Full roused from his nap, he blinked his beady eyes and flicked a meaty finger against the screen and tapped on the alert.
 
“NEW ITEM DROPS!” the screen pronounced in vibrant letters.
 
“Guess I better getta move on…”

Mad Bull moving from C16 to C20

[Gildarts]

“Do you see anything suspicious?” Gildarts asked to Illidan who was less than concerned about his partner’s ‘mission’ on the island. The truth was plainly this: Who cared what happened to the plebeians who had not even evolved into using magic to their own whim? They were human, doomed to living out their dismal mortal lives and plaguing the capable like he, Illidan, with their problems.
 
It was pathetic. And for some reason, Gildarts had picked up one of their useless tools and in that action, revealed his soft spot for them. Maybe that was because he knew deep down he was doomed too. Maybe it was because his own strength made his resolve weak. There were plenty of thoughts to toy with, but not enough time to figure out the key source without getting “curious” about the mage’s past, and right now, Illidan couldn’t care less.
 
“No,” he said curtly, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the Ambrosian Prime’s vivacious spirit.
 
There were several tracks going along the path, leading to nowhere in particular, circles and sparse lines of trail. Likely from the participants of this year’s event and nothing more. Gildarts passed an inscription on a tree, the messily etched letters haunted him because even he had heard the story of Roanoke from a lofty fellow spinning tales of embellished truths in hopes for more free ale.
 
On the road, when you lived the life, you only had stories for entertainment, or girls. Gildarts liked both, women however, like his chainsaw, really knew how to rev him up. Nowadays, in the Omniverse, there were phones and funny viral videos of dogs on the Omninternet, and the tales of magic and wonder often fell on deaf ears, misinformation was a fear as horrifying as clickbait and the people wanted irrefutable proof.
 
But that begged the question: Even when they saw it with their own eyes, could they ever believe the depth of darkness within one man without knowing his story?
 

Gillidan moving from B15 to C6. Hunting for the item and hoping to avoid trouble.

[Gamzee Makara]

Woo! Strazio and Gamzee, back at it again! The troll knew it would only be a matter of time before the dashing dumbass duo would join up to go on a murder spree on this bitch tits island.

*pipipipipipipipi*

Huh. Gamzee swears the beeping changes every time he hears it. He shuffles around, hop stepping on his staff and wrestling his data pad free from its confines.

"Yo, there's one of them there item drops just motherfuckin' chillin' a few steps that a way. Wanna us to go over there and snag that shit?" Gamzee asks, smacking at his mentor with his staff.

"Might as well. We need to grab some useful shit if we're gonna murder anyone," Straz says, slugging his apprentice in the arm.

"Yay for legal and conscientious murder!"

And with that, the two were off, Gamzee trailing behind ever so slightly due to his fucked up leg. Sure would be nice to find something to patch that up with, but he'll make do.

"Yo, I can't read this map to save my motherfuckin' existence, bro. Wanna take a crack at that shit?" Gamzee groans, waving his Syntech pad about wildly, "I've just been gettin' lucky, followin' my ears like a hound beast or whatevs."

Strawso nods and pulls his own tablet out from his pack. "Got anything to eat?"

"Whyyyyy yes I do, brother-oo. Got some fresh ass motherfuckin' apples. S'like a fruity rumpus party in this bitch. I got a couple of Faygos I'm saving for special occasion too. Y'know, like dyin' and whatnot."

The clown retrieves a couple of the aforementioned fresh ass motherfucking apples and tosses Strazio one, and chomps right on down with another. Life was good man, in these few minutes. Life was good. Shit probably wouldn't last though, knowing these two crazy ass berserkers. Only a matter of time before shit hit the whirling device.

Straz and Gamz moving C21 -> C17

[MADBULL34]

The cop patted a fist to his chest and let out another meaty burp.  The road had grown blurry and he leaned heavily on the wheel, trying to squint closely at where he was going.  He shook his head stiffly, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the destination at hand. The little electronic tablet’s map was blinking brightly, denoting the latest item drop at C12.  Mad Bull was close and inroute, and the streets of Mega City One were thankfully deserted.
 
“I dunno, seems like a long ways away…” he muttered, glancing down at the six-pack.  In the bubbly haze of 100 year old beer, the mammoth man tried to think back on what the academy had said about drinking and driving.  It had been decades since the seasoned officer had originally joined the force, and it took a fair amount of mental gymnastics for him to dredge up the old memories.
 
He belched loudly again.
 
“I’m pretty sure the Chief said it's ok if you’re a cop,” he drunkenly decided.
 
The slovenly officer slid his nightstick out of his holster and wedged its end into the door’s interior. The tonfa like grip held the wheel steadily in place as Mad Bull laid across the car seat, groping for the six-pack sitting on the floor of the passenger’s side.
 
The car lurched and swerved as he fiddled with the plastic rings.
 
“GODDAMNIT!” he bellowed as he walloped his head from under the dash board.
 
He rose, cursing angrily, retook his place in the driver’s seat and sat the cans in his lap.  After removing his nightstick and returning it to his belt, he cracked open another not-so-cold one and began to sip.
 
The way ahead was clear, but the dense apartment blocks were beginning to grow less packed as the car approached the periphery. In the far flung distance, Mad Bull spied an odd but intriguing landmark.
 

Mad Bull moves from C20 to C14

[Todd Ingram]

'This is useless, we've been walking around this city, no this island for hours now with nothing to show for it. This Tony is strong, but he is reckless, perhaps a different strategy would suit us better.'


Walking around what seemed an endless loop of circles Bruce came to a stop, "This isn't working, we can't just walk from safe house to safe house, ignoring the death match that is going on all around us. You were right earlier, when you said we needed more allies."


Tony had a perplexed look upon his face, "Wait? Did the grumpy bat-dude agree with something I said? Oh lord, it seems hell is freezing over early this year."


"Tony I'm being serious. You're a strong fighter, and a loyal ally. Traits I admire and respect in a person. For this you will always have an ally willing to fight alongside of you. That's why I think you're right. If we want to survive this death-trap I think we should find others for our cause."


The son of sparda nodded firmly, "That's what I've been saying all along. If Gamzee would've stayed it would've been fine."


"Maybe, but it wouldn't hurt to widen our horizon, that’s why I think we should split up, cover more ground. We stick to the shadows and don't take any risks. We try to collect whatever items we can get our hands on, and recruit any allies we may encounter."


The words surprised Tony, "Wait, you want to split up? I thought we were going for the safe-house?"


"You will be going to the safe house, yes. I will go to the one up north, hopefully finding fortune along the way. Once I've done that I will contact you through the tablet and keep you updated. I will return Tony."


 Redcoat shrugged, "Whatever you want Bats, give me a heads up when you are heading down will ya?"


Batman acknowledged the man's request with a simple nod. "We will meet up soon."


"Sure, just don't get killed in the meantime. Grumpy or not, you started to grow on me."


The dark knight's grappling gun fired the grappling hook towards one of the roofs. Within seconds the vigilante reeled himself up towards the top of the building. Giving Tony a last look before continuing up north, they would meet again, hopefully under better circumstances.  Redcoat started to follow the street and gave a casual air-salute for the crusader behind him. A sign of respect and good luck. For now, the duo was separated.

Dante and Batman will split up for now.
Batman Moves  C4 to C5

[Gildarts]

So far, their search for clues had left Gildarts unsurprisingly clueless.


The pair of primes had found themselves back on the outskirts of the city, where the houses were just as desolate as they had been when he had first strolled in the town. It was still foggy, but it had dissipated in the patches of gleaming morning sun and had been weighed down by the increased sprinkling of rain.

Both of their feet made squeaking noises as they walked. Gildarts missed his cape, which kept his chest and bare shoulders dry in long, stormy treks like this, and wished he had a woman’s touch to warm him up. Speaking of which… There was a small tarp over his chainsaw, he’d mangled the water repellent fabric enough to tie it messily with his own hand. The silver one still wasn’t obeying him properly, it caught stray fields of his magic rather than keeping them in and it caused the hand to appear as though it had a nervous twitch, his digits would wrestle themselves without cause and sometimes his elbow would jolt upwards as though jousting thin air. The crash magic user made sure Illidan wasn’t on the wrong side after that close call.

Gildarts had his new baby in-hand, fascinated by the terribly mundane contraption as though he were fantasizing being a normal boy, rather than the isolated outcast that he was. Well, the man could dream. Illidan, meanwhile, had to play nice so Gildarts would show him the riverstream video on the glass piece of technology. Darkshire’s Scourge was ever-committed to his cause, seek and destroy which guaranteed his victory in this petty yet useful competition. Still, they’d had no luck, chance by way of a human’s quarter had taken them to a losing battle. So much for “heads,” now his bloodlust just wanted to see them roll.

Both primes are moving from C6 to C17

[Harlan Higgs]

Hendy turned around with a surprised smile. "Ah, God Enel. I was hoping you had a good enough rest? I figured I was slowing you down, and you'd appreciate a break from my company." The man looked much better than before, the haggard lines of exhaustion having disappeared from his face. The vampire gestured around them. "Yeah, been walking. But uh, I fIgure maybe I stumbled into one of those time displacement thingies, cuz I don't seem to have gone much of anywhere." He chuckled. "Heh, maybe your divine aura has shielded me so far from anything like that."

Enel tapped himself on the forehead. "Exactly. You shouldn't have left without asking my permission, Vic. But I'll forgive it, since you left me a tribute."

They continued walking, drawing closer to the edges of the city. There were even a few scattered outlet stores and gas stations, and an idea struck the vampire as they passed by a "SunoKarl" gas station, abandoned but still in pristine condition. "Ooh. Mind if I catch up in a few minutes? There's probably something here I've been dying for since we got onto this island."

Enel shrugged and kept walking. "Don't be long." He called back over his shoulder, as Vic jimmied the door to the convenience store open. There was a particular line of logic that had been blossoming in the vampire's mind since spotting the city again. Karl Jak was, in all likelihood, a man of refined tastes and a connoisseur of the very best of mortal vices. Which stood to reason that, even if these stores and shops carried the sort of middle brand pablum that the rank and file of society considered a treat, there had to be a secret stash for when the boss came round. A man who owned an entire verse was definitely not one to be given Dutch Masters and Soda Pop as opposed to Romeo y Julieta and Courvosier.

Vic exited the convenience store moments later clutching a silvery cigar case monogrammed with message "FOR KJ. DO NOT SELL."

"Jackpot."

Hendy and Enel moving from B14 to C5.

[Gamzee Makara]

Gamzee gingerly tests out his injured leg, tapping it against the concrete of the city. Nah, Nothin'. Again, no pain was really present it was just a literal and metaphorical drag. For now, he continues to stumble, limp, and carry on. The only shitty thing is that hackin' and slashin' usually require all four limbs. To do so effectively, anyways. Not impossible, not by a long shot. Also not easy. Nothing is, in Dante's Abyss.

"We gotta head back towards the jungle to grab this one. Be ready, might be some assholes camping around looking for easy picks," Strazio warns, taking point. The drop wasn't far now, it was just a matter of waiting and wasting time. The mage takes one last chunk out of his dee-licious apple, before chucking the core at a nearby store front. The discarded core crashes through the glass windows and smacks an errant TV, sending it sizzling to life. A fuzzy image of a 'happy' person holding an odd looking device tries its best to appear on the screen.

*bzzzzzztRea-zzzt, for a low priczzzzzzt*

There's no telling what the place sold, but it was probably unsanitary. Or unsafe. Probably both. Gamzee and Strazio pass the time shooting the shit, and also shooting shit - Target practice to keep them on their toes.

A stop sign explodes. "Stop this!"

A car erupts in a shower of sparks. "Honk! Honk!"

Just random nonsense. That's probably all they were capable of. Nothing to see here, just two destruction loving, rage affiliated, sparky spark motherfuckers. They were probably gonna get into some kinda trouble eventually, but it was all shits and giggles for now; just the way Gamzee liked it. The clown tried to turn a cartwheel and crumpled inward as soon as his injured leg hit pavement.

Strazio shakes his head, "You moron. I can't believe you already got yourself banged up."

*beeeeeeeeeeeep*

Huh. It stopped beeping. No item drop here anymore.

"Well that fucking blows," mutters Strazio.

Strazio and Gamzee C17 - C4

[Simon]

Well, so much for that.

Tony Redgrave would've been lying if he said that his team-up with Batman would've been a lasting one. The vigilante could word his departure any way he wanted, but it seemed clear in Dante's mind that the two of them being a dynamic duo was clearly done- for better or worse, none could say. After all, if Batman really intended to keep the red-coat as an ally, he would've shared contacts and everything. Alas, such was the life of an aloof dark knight.

That left Redgrave on his own again, for the time being. So much for putting on a good show.

A sigh escaped the devil hunter's lips as he plodded along randomly once again. With everything going on, staying upbeat was starting get awfully difficult. In hindsight, that most likely meant that Dante's humanity was failing him. He found himself half-tempted to just run into the nearest competitor and fight to the death.

Another update alert from the digital slate snapped Tony from his musings. He found himself an abandoned bus stop, parking himself on the bench to reveal the most recent news. Two more item drops... both of which were quite a while away. What a shame.

Oh, but the last culling had ended. The results were not particularly compelling- "Deadpool" had come out on top by a mile, while Jak lay floored in a most humiliating fashion. But where they were returned to seemed particularly noteworthy: the safe house in Zone C. Redgrave's own location on the map confirmed him to still be in Zone C, albeit right on the precipice. If he hurried, the devil hunter could make it there in due time.

The rising sun seemed to mirror Dante's own resolve- how disgustingly cliche. But if there was anyone yet that the Son of Sparda confided his darkest thoughts and fears with, it might just be Jak.

Now separate from Batman. Moving from C5 to C17.
I AM VERY DEFINITELY NOT ENGAGING IN A FIGHT PLEASE AND THANK YOU

[Karl Jak]

End Day 3 - Early Morning

Being Day 3 - Morning (6 am to noon)

[MADBULL34]

The rusty old Buick coughed and sputtered as Sergeant John Estes came to a rickety halt. The poor car sat in the empty expanses of a forgotten parking lot within the confines of C14.  With a creaky whine of the handle, Sleepy rolled down the driver’s side window and took in the surroundings.  The city remained densely packed like the metropolis it was, but the enormous skyscrapers that dotted the downtown area were gone and barely visible in the distance.  A wharf not far towards the east wafted a salty breeze down the narrow streets; the zesty air billowed in the open field of tarmac where the car rested. Small businesses and shops laid just outside the docks, offering friendly restaurants and eateries for sailors and workers who hadn’t plied their trade in eons.  
 
Mad Bull stepped out of the car and admired the little diner he was parked right outside.
 
A massive plastic donut was suspended in the air atop a metal pole. Some artist had painted the statue with a delicious looking frosted icing and stenciled in the letters, “LARRY’S LARD LAND - HOT DONUTS & HOTTER COFFEE!”
 
The burly sergeant rubbed his hands together greedily and smiled a toothy grin. “After all that beer, I could sure go for a cup o’ joe!” he said aloud to no one in particular.  As he began to walk across the empty parking lot, he stopped and in a single moment of clarity, sprinted back to his car and withdrew his shotgun and grenades.  Slinging the shotgun over his shoulder, he strode into the little diner.
 
The door chimed out a pleasing DING! as he pushed his way in.  The insides of the restaurant was warm, welcoming and smelled of fresh fried donuts.  
 
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “Who woulda thought any place would be open in this shithole of a city!”
 
A robotic voice sweetly called out from across the counter. “Welcome!”
 

Mad Bull moves from C14 to C12

[MADBULL34]

The counter was encased in glass and filled with every manner of colorfully iced donut a cop could ask for.  Bearclaws, boston creams… even a few of those frenchie croissants were clumped into happy little piles within. Coffee bubbled in an old fashioned percolator nearby.
 
The cop walked cheerfully towards the counter and studied the many different donuts. With a sudden sense of suspicion, he glanced up at the robot standing behind the counter and alongside a cash register. “When’s the last time you had a customer in this joint, Shell-head?”
 
The mechanical voice kindly replied, “I am sorry sir, we were restored to functionality this morning to resume our routine tasks. I am not programed to track that sort of thing, but I am programmed with over 32,000 icing designs if you would like me to prepare you a custom donut.”
 
“Naawwww, I don’t go in for that froo-froo stuff,” Mad Ball retorted.
 
The robot seemed disappointed somehow.
 
“HEY!” the sergeant suddenly snapped. “Whadda ya mean you were just restored to funct..funct…” he struggled with the word, “just got turned on today?”
 
The robot replied mechanically, “To present this item, from the master of this verse, Karl Jak, to the first so enterprising as to visit our shop!”

Mad Bull takes the C12 item. I’ll have him wait here eating donuts for a time encase someone wants to rumble

[Jak Mar]

Jak pounded the ground of the safehouse as he licked his wounds, not literally of course. as all of them appeared back into the comforting safehouse. Jak didn’t wait as he lightly growled at Shinman and deadpool and grabbed the medkit, pulling out various creams and bandages.  

The eco warrior gritted his teeth as he put some cream on his wounds and winced. So much for badass.

His item beeper went off showing the next two item drops, but he was hurting at the time.

“SHIT!”

He looked over at Shinmen, who was preoccupied talking to deadpool for a bit.

He felt humiliated enough already on the Colosseum, what else was new?”

“Hey princess, you doing ok?” Deadpool came over.

Jak just remained quiet and growled really slowly to know this wasn’t the best time.

“Back Off.”

The knife eared anti-hero stared out the window at the rain pattering on the safehouse’s top.

“ARGGGH!”

Safehouse C

[Gildarts]

“Listen we still have seen no sign of any sort of reason for them to have left. Do we have to keep looking? It’s like we are wandering around aimlessly, plus I don’t think we made it to the item drop though we were headed in the right direction, can we give up now?” Illidan spoke with a singular tone.
 
“No, all the more reason to keep looking, if you want you can play around on the tablet in the street while I look inside some of these houses for clues,” Gildarts felt more like a consenting father figure than a partner at this point. But, c’est la vie, you can’t control people and you certainly can’t make them tag around like sidekicks while you’re on the hunt for the greatest mystery in the Omniverse.
 
Gildarts left the backpack with Illidan who fished at it eagerly, first pulling out a silver lightning conductor and looking at it quizzically, the Fairy Tail mage hollered back, “That’s a selfie stick, so the Omnitwitter people tell me!”
 
Illidan grunted, “Peasants.”
 
Gildarts set down his wrapped chainsaw on the sidewalk and strolled over to the front door to a random suburban house with a white picket fence, a beautifully freshly trimmed lawn, and a nice bouquet of flowers that had been set on the windowsill. They’d been deprived of water for a few days and their stems looked like upside down hooks, leaning over the side of the potted vase as though the deprived wilted petals searched for more water.
 
The oblivious prime closed the door and it slammed shut, snapping the hinges from their wall mounts and causing a loud Crash! It was something Gildarts was used to, so he didn’t even flinch, but quickly he went into the kitchen and opened up the fridge searching for a snack to take with them later. Then he thought about it, if it was poison, he didn’t want to eat it.
 
Sniff. Sniff.
 
The milk was spoiled and the eggs were likely close to hatching, but there was distinctly no sign of anything other than a little mold on the bread stored in the refrigerator. Nothing weird. Nothing strange. Just abandoned. Gildarts wasn’t sure if he could accept this truth and continued onto the rest of the house. The living room had a huge flat-screen television, a pair of glasses half-full of cherry colored wine and what seemed to be a cheese plate.
 
Then he smelt it. The flies hovered around the dank moldy cheese and his eyes watered more from that than the sore ache that radiated around his body from his last battle. “Oh Gods,” he felt himself gagging and pinched his nose, wondering how coroners did it.

 

Both primes moved from C17 to C4

[Harlan Higgs]

Hendy and Enel continued down the road, the handyman opening the cigar case and pulling out a fat brown hand-rolled. "Ahhh...crisp." He drew it across his nose and inhaled deeply. "Good taste, this Karl Jak." He bit the end of it off, spitting the chunk of cigar on the ground and holding the other end upwards. Snapping his fingers, a green flame flickered into being, the Ravnos puffing deeply as he made the verdant illusion real for long enough to light it.

He blew a cloud of smoke over the road, watching the raindrops disperse the fog of finely scented tobacco smoke. The pensive silence was disrupted as Enel let out a barking laugh, reading from his tablet. "What a fattie! Ha! I bet you are enjoying those donuts, fattie!"

"Pardon me, my Lord. But, uh...what are you laughing at?" Hendy asked curiously, leaning over Enel's shoulder. The God scoffed. "Nothing, really. A policeman, stuffing his face with pastry. So stereotypical.

A policeman.

Iiinnnteresting.

"Where, uh, where's about is that?" The Ravnos asked eagerly, idly sucking in another thick cloud of smoke into his dessiccated lungs. This. This was what he'd been sensing, what his connection to the plane of maya had been raising the hairs on the back of his neck. This cop, this public servant was here for him.

That bust on the upper east side, that dirtbag who'd been trying to copy the Amaranth. It was him what had busted that operation. Which had been a big favor to the Jacks, but it gave Harlan chills. A big anti-crime campaign like that would overturn a lot of teakettles he had spoons in. This cop needed to be dealt with.

And an environment such as this was the perfect spot to do it in. This was why he'd come, even if he hadn't known it at the time.

Enel looked up, extending a hand.

"I will tell you...if you give me one of those cigars."

Hendy splitting from Enel and moving from C5 to C17

[Simon]

Turns out there was one advantage to rolling solo for a little bit: nobody to object to stealing a car.

Not that Dante had even hot-wired a car before. He never learned how. At least, he had never needed to know before this point. Riding in a vehicle was better than stomping through this disgusting amount of rain. Rather than look up his suspect topic on the Dataverse and end up on an investigation list or two, Tony Redgrave decided to just root through the different vehicles in hopes in finding a spare key.

After breaking into four cars and setting off three of them, the devil hunter conceded that looking up how to hot-wire a car was probably a more intelligent solution. So he did, entering the topic into a search engine and getting results within the minute, all to the tune of three different alarms.

Anyone who knew Dante would agree that he was generally very good at his job and rather incompetent at most anything else. The proof of that was currently being broadcast across the various news networks of the Omniverse.

Finally, after a bit more struggling, the Son of Sparda had himself a working automobile, quickly peeling away from the scene of his crimes. The vintage sedan, kept sleek and well-oiled in the time before its owner's disappearance, made a passable pace down the road. Tony fiddled with the radio a bit, but only got static on the few channels he scrolled through. Oh well, no big deal.

Said haven was hard to miss: one of the large office building in the heart of downtown, and the only one with any working lights whatsoever. Tony remembered looking over it once or twice during the night, and could see it's shape coming into view as he cruised triumphantly. This old car rumbled and moved like a great war hound, and the redcoat felt that at a pace like this, he would reach the safe house in no time.

Sure enough, it came into view as the sedan streaked around a corner, suspension creaking and tires skidding on the asphalt painfully. Redgrave pressed on, confident he would ride this old train right up to the gates. The current street ended in a T-section, with concrete barriers the only thing between himself and safety. The destination in reach, Tony pressed his foot onto the brake pedal.

It didn't take. The pads clenched up, the wheels were definitely stopped, but a severe lack of traction carried the car's screeching momentum down the slippery road. Confused and annoyed, Tony removed his boot from the pedal and slammed back into it. The sudden seizure of the brakes instead caused the sedan to skid completely out of control. He jerked at the steering wheel, trying to at least pull himself away from the oncoming obstacle, but it refused to take him anywhere away from the incoming wall.

Tony was only a moment away from popping open the door when the face of the sedan met the wall, and his head met the shattering windshield.

Dante moving from C17 to C21.