[PS] Museum/Library

[Burter]

This is where the players can get information on how the game works, the island and the weapons.

[King Cold444]

Stumbling out of the receiving end of the teleporter, K.C. did the best he could to regain his composure. There was just something about being destroyed, beamed across the galaxy, and rebuilt that caused slight disorientation. At least it wasn't as painful as when he'd been regranted his life... because that was a lot worse than a dip in one of the lava springs in Purgatory.

Sounds of activity had seized his attention, dispite his vision being hazy and his footing not quite as stable as he needed it to be. He treaded forward through the labyrinth of corridors, unable to find any sign of where he was headed. Not that it mattered much, but the sounds of life began to die as he proceeded.

"W-where the fu... where am I?" he managed, and imagined someone who witnessed him in this state would take it for weakness. Although that wouldn't be a bad idea, feigned weakness.

Amidst another labyrinth of corridors, where exhibitons were on display. Weapons from past competitions lined the walls, alongside monitors displaying combatants in their final moments. More importantly, combatants in their prime. Cold had sobered up by now, either by the intrigue of history or the wealth of information that happened to be contained in these chambers. Approaching a display, he found that it sprung to life and a crisp, british accent had greeted him.

"In Dante's Abyss you'll come to encounter persons pushed into this world of deception, mistrust and tyranny." It was that of a female. "Despite the promise of death, fighters of the Abyss have been known to put their reliance in one another during times of dire need. Some of these relationships have dissolved in the worst of times," at this an angry, long-haired fighter beared down upon a young girl with a chainsaw, ripping through her navel and spattering the camera with dripping sanguine. It seemed personal.

Cold's attention had been drawn to a monitor, scrolling the past profiles and statistics of fighters. It was a goldmine down here, but Cold had known better than to rely on obsolete information such as this. There would be new contestants, and his adaptability would be challenged. Besides, the museum was boring without the conflict and drama that could've been found elsewhere.

"Where's Koola?" his voice echoed through the desert corridors. He was getting bored, and he was sure Cooler's company would help pass the time.

OOC: Gone to the bar

[Minoshia]

Immediately after being notified of his acceptance into the competition, the child had begun his search for silence. He longed for a place where he could sit down, gather his thoughts, and begin thinking about the competition. The hard street his feet tread on seemed to have four ?hotspots? of activity; The Living Quarters, a Dojo, a Bar, and a Museum of competition?s past.

The bar was far too rowdy, he could hear the noise of the competitors pouring out into the streets, men stumbled out of the bar launching the contents of their stomach onto the pavement. He saw a few competitors he recognized, he didn?t know any well enough to bother stopping by. The dojo looked promising, until he watched the frog humanoid walk into the front door; Pikkon, one of the Earth Soldiers that the Konat had slaughtered during the Takeover.

Next building was the library; nobody appeared to be inside any longer as a massive Changeling marched out the front door in the direction of the bar. King Cold, a warrior that Minoshia had fought alongside in conquest. The royal frostling didn?t seem to notice the dark child, and Minoshia made his way rather stealthily through the front door.

He knew what he was looking for, but to get there he had to wander through a good portion of the Museum floor. The weapon?s corridor was his favorite section, machine guns and shotguns, Sniper Rifles and GPS, and his two favorite weapons; The Poison and the Binoculars. Minoshia had to forcefully suppress his excitement and bloodlust as memories of Seventeen?s life slowly faded with the Konat standing behind him, the binoculars cord wrapped around his neck.

Not stopping to reminisce for long, he made his way into the furthest room from the museum entrance. Practically empty of all material items, it appeared to be a study of sorts. Minoshia made his way into the darkest corner of the room, and sat down silently. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he let his chin rest on the caps of his knees. He wrapped his arms tightly around the front of his shins, and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander off into his own nightmares of death and slaughter?

[Android-18]

Although she favored winter to be a more beautiful season for one?s birthday, she had to agree with her conscience on the fact that it was too cold. Summer was too hot, but fall and spring were equally good choices. It wasn?t right to not have a birthday, she needed one. Anyway, she was only part android. She was as much a human as anyone.

She paused in front of a shop window. These silly events liked to hold stores so as to make money off the entering combatants. However, it was not the merchandise she was looking at. The glass window so beautifully reflected her frame, and golden gleaming lochs. Etched so nicely into the glass, it was the fairest of all beauties. Yes, she was full of herself. It was then that she posed ever so slightly. She made a few little turns, and gave a flip of her hair. It wouldn?t hurt to admire ones image for a few moments, would it?

Her feet padded against the cold floor, not that she could feel it, it just looked cold. Cocky brutes entered the bar, and buffed fighters disappeared into the living quarters with women. She didn?t think much on it, instead, she contemplated flavors of cake.

The telltale sight of long glorious hair had her turn her head slowly. The archway that led to the museum had her staring. It gave way to the most intriguing poster of Raditzu. Did he always look so?full of himself? She stood up to the life-sized poster, entering the cool and quiet section of the base. He had won last year, otherwise this wouldn?t be here. She stared at the thing as if it were some complex puzzle, contemplating that stupid grin and upturned thumb. She crossed her arms against her chest, and furrowed her brows.

It took her a moment to tear her eyes away from his, they were lifeless. It was just a poster, and nothing more. Her footsteps echoed softly in the hall. It opened up, and before her was set the history of Dante?s Abyss. Her gentle fingers touched against the glass of one case, within sat a disassembled gun. It was an old make, from one of the first tournaments. Little blurbs of information were written upon slips of paper. As fucked up as she may have become, the android did not forget the fact that she had been in more than one of these games. She could feel her lips contorting at the whole display.

What about the cold empire? What about the cruel end of the first Dante?s Abyss she had been part of? Where were the stories of those who were lost and forgotten? A fist shook, and anger sparked in the pit of her stomach. It had been a long time since she had felt so stirred. It was simple facts, these greedy money makers only displayed the candies that grubby warriors wanted to see. Oh the wonders of a pitted war. Forget the true intentions.

Before she could destroy the case before her with a devastating punch, her eyes lost their light and she walked away like a disembodied soul. One thing was true, as she stopped at one of the last lit exhibits. It was like a Raditzu fan booth. Of course it made sense, he had been a winner. Within the glass she could see video clips of his performance, and the weapons he had used. It had a shoddy information blurb, and his 'known affiliates'. She had no name, simply a blonde girl. Her hand pressed against the glass, and it slowly slid downward in pathetic passion.

Her body pressed against the glass, her cheek touched the frigid surface. Her whole body ached against the barrier. Her breath appeared against the clear exterior. Her parted lips exhaled and inhaled, and with a shaking finger she scrawled a heart into the receding wetness that was her breath on the case. She slid with her palms flat against it, making a squeaking sound in the emptiness. Her bottom hit the possibly dirty floor, and she curled against the foundation of The Raditzu shrine.

?I have a birthday, I hope you?ll come.? She said and closed her eyes.

[Kami]

Kami wandered out of the barraks, he was bored from sitting around and doing nothing. Maybe the library would give him a chance to learn something useful. He'd been in DA before, so he figured he might thumb through all the information he could.

It was more of an indulgance to read about past contests, seeing if his name popped up on occasion, who the former winners ended up being. He even remembered the time he rode in a car with Reijin and someone else, toting huge guns running across vast wastelands.

The books began to pile up infront of the old Namek. He almost looked like he belonged under a stack of text, gaining more wisdom with his age. He flipped through the history information some more, then decided it would be useful to read up on the various weapons.

The weapon book wasn't as big as the others, but just as useful. He reminiced about the shitty weapons he's seen, and some of the more useful ones. Ki rifles, shotguns, swords, medic kits, spoons, combs, bricks, sticks, axes, anything that could be scrounged up. The book went from silverwear to full blown chainguns, all various weapons for the deadly game. Then there was mention of the collars every combatant wore. Goddamn collars... Kami thought to himself, he had never been a fan of those things.