Day Four: Afternoon

[Burter]

Day Four
Noon - 6:00 PM

"The pace is slow but the ratings are high! Keep showing some activity and move around and we'll be at the finale in no time! The only causuality:

#25 Spice

And now, it's time to announce the new forbidden zones! These zones will be activated in six hours! If you're in one of these spots at noon...BOOM! Hehe!

C3

That's it! Good luck, all!

This is Karl, over and out!"


Notes:

-Not raining, but it's now foggy

[Kami]

The light tried it's best to cut through the mist. The light rain had subsided and was now transformed into a fog. This could be good... Kami was tired of sitting, he needed to stretch his legs, and keep his back moving as much as it might pain him. There was no sense in eking out the rest of the tournament by himself in a corner simply because he had taken a bad hit earlier. He slowly mad his way down the stairs. Where stars once shown through, now sunlight cast it's reach inside. The fogs flowed through the cracks, almost trying to envelope and reclaim the building for itself.

Kami slid out the door he had entered, taking note of the growing fog around him. There was neigh a sound to be heard within his vicinity. He appreciated the calm for the time being and made his way out onto the island. He looked at the map once again, finding a place which could be of some use to him and started walking. Having the building to guide the direction of his travel was very handy; otherwise he might not wander off in the right direction because of the fog.

His cane was still sturdy as ever, making a soft thud as it hit the ground with each step. The fog slowly swallowed the building as he walked away from it. The sun was doing it's part to send the fog back to where ever it came from, but it still hung in the air and clung to the ground. The air was fresh, an occasion daring breeze made it's way in from the sea and brushed across the face of the old Namekian. Maybe I'll go spend some time near the ocean after all this is over...

[Orion]

King Cold, the more able of the two warriors now, took the lead, scouting towards the horizon as they trekked on. His remaining arm had grown much stronger and sturdier since straddling his shock rifle without the other limb, and his reaction time had improved dramatically. After the defeat of the pink monster and the revenge strike against Seventeen, he was feeling pretty good.

At least in comparison to his son.

Koola awkwardly hobbled after his father. With his makeshift shotgun support and his other good leg, he grew irritated. The land of Dante's Abyss was rarely level, featuring sudden dips in the ground hidden by grassy tufts, soft mud and rocky crops. The changeling prince never really did appreciate the gift of walking until it was taken away. Now he really wished that fag Karl Jak would at least let him use enough ki to float.

Out of nowhere, the narration struck again. "Finally we've had the taste of blood, but at what cost? Dad's less an arm, my leg is basically useless, and I personally haven't taken a life! Although it was satisfying when I roasted that robot. Anyway, what I wouldn't do to walk properly again."

Yet, as much as Koola bitched, when all was said and done, Dante's had been an experience. He learnt that he wasn't all powerful, whether he'd actually admit it out loud or not. An amazing, unexpected relationship had bloomed between himself and his father, which, chances were, wouldn't have happened outside the specific events that they endured together. Indeed, despite his crippling condition, he would've done it all again.

"Slow down!" the violet skinned heir cried out. "Just because you have two legs doesn't mean you have to show off!" Sweat rolled down his bony skull. The extra exertion used trying to maintain a normal pace was more effort than he was used to.

Cold came to a stop. "I think it's time we did some training."

Koola drove the barrel of the shotgun into the ground and looked up. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, we're both handicapped now, right?" He tapped his oddly bare shoulder with his rifle, grimacing slightly when he realised it was still tender. "If we're going to have a real chance at winning this thing, we need to incorporate our weaknesses into our strategy."

Koola squinted. "What's your plan? I can't exactly sprout a new thigh."

"No, you can't. But we are bound to run into other people. And like it or not, we aren't at our prime right now. So we need to adapt to our new... circumstances." As the emperor spoke, the rain died down and a thin fog crept from beyond. "Let's do some training." He lifted his shock rifle and pulled the trigger. Koola's eyes widened.

Throwing the shotgun to the earth, he dived away from the streaking blast of lightning. The dampened dirt splattered across his forearms and face as he hit the ground.

"What the hell was that?!" Koola boomed incredulously.

Cold lowered the shock rifle. "What did I just say? Training!"

Koola maneovered himself so that he was upright again, propping most of his weight upon his tail. "Do we have to use the actual elements that can potentially tear us apart?"

"Oh, quit whining. You've got a shotgun."

"Ha ha! So I do." The prince whisked the pump action weapon into his hands. "Let's begin."

Koola cocked the firearm and took aim. Squeezing the trigger, he released a dangerous spray of ki bullets. The recoil, however, he wasn't expecting. His arms moved in circles wildly, trying to return some semblance of stability. Thrusting forward with his powerful tail, the prince dodged another untamed stream of electricity from Cold's rifle, hitting the dirt and rolling. Stopping upon his good knee, Koola slid the chamber backward and then forward, firing another lethal barrage.

King Cold banked diagonally, almost tripping over from the lightness his body welcomed. Without his other bulky arm, his weight was considerably different; perhaps not to a large degree, but enough to be noticed in sudden movement. Jumping through the air, Cold tried to land the back of his gun to his son's skull, but Koola artfully rolled backwards, preparing a donkey kick for his dear old dad. The horned patriarch parried the incoming foot with his rifle and the two separated, leaving an extended silence through the fog.

"I see what you mean," Koola said, bringing back the shotgun as a support. "I do need a bit of practice."

King Cold smirked. "Father knows best."

[Kami]

Afternoon sun was repressing the fog like the peasant population of a castle. Constant yet ever so slight pressure weighed down from above, beating it back into the ground. Out of the mist a large form bgean to emerge, square and cold. A smile crept across an old face. Found it... The ground was warming up, the dew from the morning fight between light and mist was waining. Footprints showed through the damp ground, along with a round spot where a cane hit the ground.

Hunched over in pain, a lone figure pushed open the doors before him. A sign hung above his head, dirtied and worn down by time. It read "...T..R...GE" The other letters rubbed off by some twist of fate or faulty design. Still, his map had read true and inside he went. The Namekian slowly closed the doors behind him, watching the light fade to black through the ever decreasing crevase between the wall and door.

He turned around and headed inside. A few dirty broken windows granted sunlight to the inside of the building. Boxes lay strewn about, some open, some closed. He pulled out his ki pistol and spun it around his finger. It spun and spun until he finally stopped it by closing his hand, the pistol coming to rest ready to be fired. He did it again, spinning the pistol about before stopping in a position to shoot. Maybe I should've been a cowboy... For the time being, he gave the pistol one last good spin and tucked it away.

He made his way across the room, looking for any boxes which might be of some use to him. He poked his head into one already open box, but only found dust and cobwebs. Moving on he knocked the cane on a couple other boxes. The response was an empty richocette of his knock. Continuing on, he pushed empty boxes aside and looked around. He found a box with blankets inside, which he didn't need. Another appeared to have contained water bottles, most of which were missing, and the only ones that remained were empty or broken. He opened another box, only to find six huge swords lined up inside, blades down, crossed over one another ready to go. He smiled and pulled one out. The blade was still hiding a hint of a shine, and so Kami buffed off a section using his robe. underneath the dirt it was still as vibrant as ever. He took the blade by the handle and starting swinging it around. It was balanced wonderfully, and cut through the air with ease. He back tweaked a bit but he ignored the pain and continued to examine the sword. He pulled back and swung hard at an empty box. The blade made contact with the side of an old woodedn crate.

Kami had to jerk his head away as the debris flew across the room. He pulled his hand back only to find that he was holding a sword hilt with no blade. The box was beaten from the impact, but the sword had shattered into a million tiny fragments, longing to be something greater than what they were now; which was simply trash. Figures as much that I'd find a box of no good swords...what's next, a bazooka without a trigger?... He tossed the hilt down to the ground in disgust and continued looking through boxes, looking around with his scouter ever so often, just to be on the safe side. There was still a tournament going on afterall.

[Android 17]

Although he hadn?t noticed it, Seventeen was now aware of the fact that something had triggered a dense fog to befall the island. With his vision now limited to only a few feet, the android extended his mangled right hand out in front of his body. This way he?d at least know ahead of time if he was going to run into a tree or something.

?You should be more worried about the other contestants,? the voice trigged the raven-haired youth to twist around rapidly to face the newcomer. Narrowing his eyes in an effort to see the figure more sharply, the android soon realized that he was once again granted with the presence of the overtly creepy Raditzu. The saiya-jin was hanging upside down by his monkey-like tail from a low hanging branch of a nearby tree. In his right hand, the long-haired superstar held an oversized banana.

?Why are you following me?? Seventeen demanded, pulling the hilt of the ki sword out from the confines of his survival bag. With a flick of an unseen switch, the weapon hummed to life and a three-foot shaft of azure energy erupted from the metallic grip.

?I?m not,? Raditzu replied, pausing to take a copious bite from his banana. After swallowing his food, the monkey-hybrid flashed his former partner yet another disturbing smile. ?You?re following yourself,? the saiya-jin replied, motioning with his unoccupied hand at something behind the android?s back.

?He does have a point,? an overly familiar voice said from the cyborg. Spinning around once more, Seventeen let out a gasp and almost dropped his weapon at the shock-inducing sight. ?What?? The android replied, placing his hands on his hips as he walked up to himself. ?When are you going to accept that fact that you lost your rocker a long, long time ago? At least if you did that, things like this fucked up little rendezvous wouldn?t be so bizarre.?

?The man has a point,? Raditzu replied before falling silent once again and dedicating some more time to munch on his unnaturally large fruit.

?Shut up,? the real Seventeen interjected, turning away from the lunacy of the scene and charging into the fog. After a few yards, the android collided with someone and was thrown to the ground. ?Why the hell are you just standing around?? The cyborg shouted?glaring at the incoherent silhouette as he groaned and pulled his battered body off the ground.

?Why don?t you tell me?? The man said, turning around and taking a step toward the infuriated android. When the stranger stepped out of the fog and into the machine-hybrid?s plane of sight, Seventeen?s eye twitched ever so slightly upon processing the identity of the man. Stepping backwards away from yet another facsimile of himself, the android shook the madness from his head and ran to the left.

Due to the rather blind, panicked nature of the cybernetic warrior?s departure, he opted to not bother with keeping an eye on his path. Once he had made it about a dozen yards or so, Seventeen tripped over an elevated root and went crashing into a puddle of mud. With a wet, sucking noise, the android liberated his body from the pool of liquid earth and instinctively retrieved the ki sword from the muck.

?You?re getting sloppy, Android Seventeen,? one of the facsimiles whispered, crouching down in front of the seated android. ?Get it? Sloppy?! Ahahaha!? The clone added, spiraling off into an insane chorus of laughter as the real Seventeen began to growl.

?He?s getting mighty riled now!? Another replication of the cyborg uttered in a poor Australian accent before stepping out of the fog and into the scene.

?Shut the fuck up!? Seventeen shouted as the ki sword hummed to life. With a rapid succession of swings, the android succeeded in flawlessly decapitating both of his doppelgangers.

?That?s right, Seventeen,? one of the decapitated heads hissed playfully. ?Release your anger! Your journey towards the Dark Side will soon be complete!"

?I hate you both,? the machine-hybrid seethed as he pushed off his haunches and tried to wipe some of the mud from his body.

?You hate yourself?? The other head replied, a frown spreading across his muddied countenance. ?Don?t be such an emo kid for crying out loud. You just?? before the head could finish, it was blown apart by a blast of ki.

?Jackass,? Seventeen muttered before leaping over the remains of the two doppelgangers and vanishing into the fog.

[Burter]

Face to Face

Android 17, Cargo

Vegeta

The water sparkled in the beautiful sunlight above the lake as the prince of all saiyans stood on the dock, watching it. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the beauty of the water soothed him; made him feel very relaxed. It was almost as if he wasn't camping on an island filled with death and destruction.

His original team was scattered. His daughter and best friend were alone somewhere else fighting for survival. And here was he, barely alive and struggling to remain in the game. He had no friends to help him. It was just him and his box.

Of course, someone had to come forth eventually. The saiyan turned sternly when he heard footsteps and was greeted with a not-so-cheerful looking namekian. Both of them had seen better days in terms of health, but neither of them wanted to be the one to who didn't get to walk away with their life.

"Alright," Vegeta said aloud. He set his box down and crouched in a launch position. "I'm ready for a brawl!" And with that, he jolted forward down the dock.

Cargo tensed and prepared to dodge. He gripped his flail and lept up, flipping over the saiyan when he threw a punch and batted him on his spikey head. Vegeta rolled forward, spinning and throwing a ki blast.

The namek flew back, landing on his feet and then bouncing off again. Vegeta's speed allowed him to leap back, avoiding the spikey flail.

That was when Android Seventeen, an oppurtunist to the very end, lept off a large rock and slashed forward, his ki sword cutting through the torso of the saiyan prince.

Vegeta gasped for a moment as his heart cut in two. His eyes flashed. For a moment, his super saiyan powers exploded, but only until his heartbeat halted, and then he was back to normal. His corpse dropped forward from the interuption.

Seventeen looked up at Cargo, who was tense and unsure. But it wasn't a young namekian that the malfuntioning eyesight of Android Seventeen saw. It was something else.

He caught his breath and spoke. "...Paige?"

#34 Vegeta DEAD

17 Remain

Either of you can take the cardboard box

[Burter]

Face to Face

Yamu, Jeice

Raditzu

As usual, Yamu and Jeice walked. Unlike most of the competition remaining on the island, the feared duo had been hunting for some prey. They were two of the most popular fighters in the game and continued to prove their worth with their constant spunk.

Neither of them wanted to leave this game as a loser. They were going to win. There was no question in their mind. Either Jeice would win, or Yamu would win. They truly believed this.

Unfortunetly, as they walked into a certain part of the island, their betting odds dropped significantly. They had walked into the wrong square. They had walked into the wrong fighter.

Yamu was the first to notice. "Stay sharp," he said, nodding to a DA bag on a boulder. "Someone's been here."

"Got it," Jeice nodded back, clutching his gun. "I'm ready."

The big human looked around. A small patch of bread was on the ground. A bottle of water. A...yo-yo. Who had a yo-yo? His eyes twitched as he remembered a certain long-haired saiyan who had pretended to be an ally. He remembered the man who had abandoned him. "Oh shit," he said aloud.

"Hrk!" He heard behind him.

Yamu spun to see his close white-haired friend, Jeice, with wide eyes and an open mouth. The fist of a saiyan went right through his torso, sticking out of his exposed chest. He dropped the gun in the shock of it all. A surprise attack. A sneak attack.

"No!" Yamu shouted. "You!" He pointed at Rad furiously with his baseball bat. Jeice's body hit the ground as Yamu's eyes flashed red. "Raditzu, you peice of SHIT!"

The long haired saiyan used the power inside him to keep himself equal to Yam's power level. He didn't miss out on an oppurtunity to grab his Yo-Yo back. "You know how it works, Yamu," the saiyan said firmly. His hair began to flap slightly in an unseen wind as it glowed gold. "We both know. There arn't any fights in this game."

Yamu had indeed noticed Raditzu sported a new injury: a bloody hole in his stomach with some hair missing behind him. Obviously, the saiyan had been involved in a betrayal of his own. "You left us," Yamu accused. "And now the one person I had in this game is dead. Why should I let you live?"

"You shouldn't. You should kill me," Rad answered. "If you can."

With both of them at twenty times their original power levels, Yamu's Kaioken aura exploded around him as he lept forward, holding his baseball bat. "I WILL kill you here!" He shouted as he swung the bat. Rad ducked under it, holding his gash. "Take THIS!"

The bat came down towards Raditzu's face, but he managed to catch it just before it came down on him. With a sudden feirce ki eruption, the bat broke apart from the energy in Rad's hand. Yamu's eyes widened as his prized 'Kari' bat became only half as long.

Yamu was so shocked at this development, he didn't even get a chance to block when Rad grabbed his arm and smashed it with his wrist, cracking it the wrong way and shattering it. Howling in pain, Yamu fell to one knee, grunting with a pained look on his face.

It was all lost. The baseball bat...Jeice...

With a last ditch effort, Yamu used his free hand to reach for his jar of ki sand. Before he could do anything, Rad's knee slammed into his gut, causing him to fall backwards, tripping over his feet and falling on his back.

"You've gotten stronger," Rad complimented. "But you also got too cocky. You have to know when enough is enough."

The human grunted as he moved. "Look who's talking...you arrogant peice of shit!" That was when Yamu grabbed the weapon next to him...Jeice's machine gun, and raised it up. There was a cliff a few feet away. This was it.

Rad had no time to react. "Oh...shit."

The machine gun exploded a flurry of ki at the saiyan. Raditzu fell backwards as he was shot up inside his torso. He hadn't even noticed the end of the cliff dwelling, which would take him downhill after a short fall. He tripped over the end of it...and fell.

Yamu fell back to his knees. He had won. Raditzu had to be dead. There was no way he could have survived that fall.

"Nobody could have survived," Yamu told himself out of comfort. "Nobody...nobody." But Raditzu wasn't nobody. He was the champion of the Abyss.

He shouldn't have lived.

But he did.

#29 Jeice DEAD

16 Remain

Yamu's arm is broken. Major injury

Raditzu's been shot in the torso and fallen off a cliff. He'll have some trouble distinguishing reality from his imagination. Yes, folks, that's right, more hallucinations. Insane injury

The machine gun is Yamu's. The baseball bat is broken is half.

Both tired for 24 hours

[Jinpo]

OOC: Before the F2F. I?m working on a post for after right now.

Aimless wandering. The favorite pastime of someone without a purpose. Cargo was now waist deep in it. The scrumptious apple had inspired him to gather more fruit from the surrounding area. The Namekian could only slyly smile at his survival knapsack full of apples, pears, oranges, and peaches.

?Sweet.? he articulated as he took out the juiciest pear he could find and devoured half of it with one mammoth-sized bite. But, now, with no one to take on in mortal combat, Cargo was left to wander the, now foggy, forested island alone.

Cargo meandered slowly back into the cemetery, walking among the countless headstones of the previous Dante?s Abyss participants who had been brutally murdered throughout the countless years of DA?s existence. After the last blow this year, the gravedigger would once again be a busy man. 44 more stones would be added to this somber site, adding to the eeriness of ?I7?. It was a great place to mull over the game.

?The Abyss . . .? the teenager reflected. ?People watch other people die for entertainment and I am only creating more death. I never used to be this way. Someone who would kill for sport.? The minute mist thickened around the child, isolating him from the outside world.

?But . . .? All of a sudden, the dense haze absorbed a tinge of red as the sun tried its best to shine through. ?the blood. These people are all trying to kill me. Each one of them is blocking my way towards success . . . and killing them feels good. Seeing their blood spill from their body gets my own blood pumping like drugs or sex never could.?

Cargo glanced down at his hand as he clenched his fist. Thoughts of his previous murders overwhelmed every other rational thought. Killing consumed him now. Tactful, calculated slaughter.

?So this is who I am . . . Cool.? the adolescent uttered. Similar to the Red Sea, the fog parted for Cargo, exposing a single path for the kid to take. He didn't waste much time walking forward into the jungle.

[Raditzu]

"Mr. Raditzu. Excuse me, Mr. Raditzu."

Over the course of what seemed like hours, the saiyan warrior Raditzu slowly opened his eyes. The afternoon sun would have been glaring down at him -- and he would be glaring back -- but a thick cloud of fog obscured the sky. Off to his left, he was vaguely aware of a voice calling him. The only thing he had a view of was the fog directly above him, since he was sprawled out on his back. If he didn't answer soon, he doubted it would stop.

"Guh... what?" Rad tried to roll onto his side, but the intense pain flaring through most of his body convinced him to stay still.

"They're almost read for you, sir."

Normally, people would tilt or turn their heads to change their view, Rad simply let his fall to one side. Even before transforming, his energy was at an all-time low between hunger and his lack of sleep. Regardless, the saiyan's immediate view was filled by a pair of ankles. A woman's, he hoped, since the feet attatched were clad in a pair of strappy sandels and adorned with a coat of pink polish.

His eyes slid up the woman's legs, past a grey skirt and up to meet her eyes. Rad was thankful that she was bending over to get a closer look at him, otherwise he would have had to move his head in order to see her face; moving was definitely not on the top of his to-do list. Woman reach out and prodded his shoulder with the cap of her pen.

"Please sir, I need you to get up and follow me."

"Tuh... bleh'rrr gulhg?" Even Rad was surprised by his incoherence as he tried to speak. The saiyan swished his mouth several times, then spit out a disgustingly long stream of blood followed by a tooth and a half; the woman either didn't notice or didn't seem to care. Taking in a slow breath, he tried again. "Tch... where 're we goin'?"

"Where are we going?" the woman repeated. She seemed shocked by the idea that he even needed to ask. "Its time for your interview."

[Bardock]

?No, no, NO,? Bardock cursed, his inflection growing with each word. A light drizzle had blanketed the island, but it came as quickly as it went. Now a thick mist was rolling in. Obviously, there were a few handicaps that were involved with that. He was as blind as a one-eyed man in fog?err?

He quickly swapped his eye protection for his scouter, which he set up to what normally would be nighttime proximity readings. His steps were slower than usual, as he had almost completely lost sight, and the vapor was messing with his sense of smell. All he had left was hearing, and a good set of reflexes. But the stress of the moment was causing his heart to beat faster, his blood to pump quicker, and a resounding throb in his head where his skull was busted in.

Without warning, Bardock?s face smashed into a tree. He bent over and clutched at his nose, suppressing a holler and managing a pained grunt instead. Fortunately, there was no serious injury, not even a gush of blood. The fighter muttered a string of curses under his breath.

Moving around was becoming less and less of a good idea right now. There was battle hungry, and then there was stupid, and right now with his impaired vision, it was becoming borderline idiocy. Placing his hands out, he grasped the tree, and like a wild animal, climbed the trunk, perching on one of the top branches.

The fighter looked around. He couldn?t see an inch in front of his face. Instead, he pulled the GPS out and stared hard at the readings. Two lights blinked before going out, and the other red blips managed to walk away. Two fights at once? Looks like the competition was doing a nice job of eliminating themselves.

Bardock could only be so fortunate that he run into those who were beginning to pile on the injuries. He knew the odds were against him if he ran into someone who?d managed to stay healthy. Might not be the most fair sense of play, but this wasn?t about playing fair. It was about survival, and there was nothing wrong with stacking the chips in your favor.

Fog clears and it?s hunting time, he assured himself.