Pre-Show Writing

[Burter]

You can use this thread for pre-show hype. If you're bored and arn't doing anything with your character, you can try to get some early brownie points from me having your character make a public appearance on a talk show, or an autograph signing, or really anything you want that relates to Dante's Abyss.

You CANNOT fluid time here.

[Tobias]

"Where's my water, my throat clamping up on me." From out of the throng of people an assistant handed him a bottle. "Oh god," he sputtered between gulps. "I'm going to die out there. I know it. One of these maniacs is going to straight up kill me."

"You'll be fine Zip." the producer assured him with a grin. "They still need to apply, and I don't know if murdering two time Lemmy winning talk show host Zip Noxi's going to help them get in. Eh?" Zip was unimpressed. He examined his too-white teeth in a mirror and ran a finger over his jaw.

"Look at my bone structure. Its too perfect to be punched." The producer gave it up as useless and wandered off to make sure everything was prepared. Zip was the undisputed master of talk shows, a veritable blackbelt in inane banter. But if there was one thing he did better than that it was bitch and moan. His assistants tried to think of something else to drown it out as they fit his pink blazer on. Not too far away Tobias lounged lazily in the guestroom munching on cookies and waiting to be called out. Sitting in a chair across from him was a very animated man... thing. He looked human, but his eerily wide grin revealed rows of glimmering pointed teeth.

"I..." his voiced cracked slightly, with what Tobias could only assume was excitement "I'm going to fucking destroy you in the Abyss. You know that right. I am... you are a light weight. Look at me," He displayed the well toned muscles under his spandex shirt with pride, "and look at you." Tobias gently brushed cookie crumbs off the front of his suit as he sat up.

"So what are you?" Tobias said earnestly. His eyes shimmered with interest behind his spectacles. "Human hybrid? Demon spawn?" The abyss hopeful twitched slightly and bared his fangs.

"What the hell does that mean fairy boy? I am freaking Kua Kane the sickest killer this side of anywhere man."

"Kua, a shark god to the pacific Ka'u people. I don't think you are a god." Disappointment mingled with the curiosity in his voice. Kua seemed confused, and for the first time in the half-hour Tobias had so far spent with him, without anything to say. "Yet you didn't know that? Perhaps you chose that name instinctually. A descendant of a breed of fish people?" Kua was spared the need to answer when and assistant popped her head in.

"You are out in five Tobias." He nodded to her and stood.

"I hope we can continue this conversation afterwards," he said happily as he tugged the wrinkles from his jacket. "Really you are amazing. I'm sure all that pent up energy and physical defects come from an interesting lineage. To be honest you are the only reason I'm here tonight." And with that he left for the stage.


((TBC))

[Zangya]

OOC: This is continued from "From the Ashes".

The press conference was loud, and noisy; the pair of Odd and Zangya flew in casually, as they believed was probably expected at an event where everyone who was gathered had seen people shoot light from their palms on a regular basis. Of course, there were those who would call it ‘magic tricks,’ but the green-skinned woman who had just arrived at her first glimpse of what Dante’s Abyss 2008 would look like didn’t care for any of the humans watching right now. Nay, it was simply her goal to please her savior’s wishes. Right now, he wished for her to be at this press conference. Nodding to her concerned look, he gestured towards the welcome desk—following his silent command, the Ader strolled up to the desk, ready to get this convention on a roll.

“Hello, I’m Zangya—I competed in Dante’s Abyss last year, and I’m here to speak at the press conference.” The woman sitting behind the desk looked up. Her lanky form could barely hold up the spectacles that balanced on her nose, so she pushed them up, attempting to get a better look at the woman with a jade complexion. She nodded, noting the competitor’s name. “Is that all you need? Can I go on up to the table now?”

“No, no sweetheart,” the scrawny, raven-haired woman halted, “I need your placement from last year’s DA—your number, you know, that type of thing.” She took the piece of paper out from under the clipboard, sighing as she filled in a few more places on the form. “You know, I’m glad someone came today.” Zangya looked down at the woman—the look on her face was rather puzzled. No one came? This was one of the first Dante’s Abyss 2008 conventions, and not a single person had shown up to please the hundreds of fans that were here? “Everyone else is off saving the galaxy or something. There’s some weird crap going down on Arlia, from what I hear.” The Ader was let down. She had hoped to meet some of the more famous competitors.

“You said number?” Zangya asked—the woman had made her lose her train of thought with her chattering, but she nodded, confirming Zangya’s memories. “Let’s see—I think I was number nineteen last year.” The woman looked up at her from behind her spectacles. She seemed… surprised, or pleased, at least. Zangya couldn’t understand it. It was as if the woman thought that her donning the number nineteen last year meant something significant.

“You were nineteenth place last year?” she inquired, “That’s impressive, for someone who’d never entered before. Funny, I don’t remember you being nineteenth place—in fact; I don’t really remember you at all. Bah, the tricks your mind plays on you sometimes, eh?” The woman chuckled, and suddenly Zangya understood what she had meant by number. She sighed, preparing to explain the misunderstanding—regretfully, of course, since her actual placement wasn’t as impressive as the faux one that the woman believed it to be.

“Oh,” Zangya recognized, “You meant placement—as in, what our actual place was, as far as order of death. That’s a bit different. You see, I thought you meant the number we were assigned. My placement last year, you see, was actually thirty-seventh.” The woman looked back up to her, her eyes staring over the spectacles again, except this time with more of a disdain and disappointment that when Zangya had announced the number nineteen. “I was accepted into the competition nineteenth, you see… and… well… I was killed eighth, making me thirty-seventh places behind Bardock. Not as impressive as nineteen, I know, I know.”

“Wait—you were thirty-seventh?” the woman repeated, as if attempting to discern this. “This is all I get? Thirty-seventh place? I spend weeks planning this thing, and the thirty-seventh place winner is the only one to show up. This sucks,” she muttered. Zangya’s cheeks flared an angry red, but she held it in.

“Hey,” Zangya argued, “I may have gotten thirty-seventh place, but I had some memorable moments on the show. I was, by far, one of the dumbest players in the game, and I got my face shot off—so you should go ahead and make yourself far nicer, because I’m the best you’ve got. I leave, and you’ve got nothing, lady. So go ahead and take me up to the podium, or else it ain’t gonna work out very well for you, punk.” There it was: the tough girl impression! It worked, too! Zangya could hardly believe her eyes as the rather puny, frazzle haired woman led her fearfully up towards the podium. Wow, she was even more of a chicken than Garlic Junior had been.

“And now,” the announcer mused as the convention got on its merry way, “In last year’s Dante’s Abyss, she got her face shot off by a shotgun, made friends with a backstabbing little goblin, and was killed by the man who would become the Dante’s Abyss 2007 winner—everyone, it’s last year’s thirty-seventh placeholder, Zangya!”

There was no applause.

Taking her opportunity, the Ader walked gracefully up the steps, knocking the announcer aside rather violently. She took her stand at the podium, cleared her throat, and said: “Welcome, everyone, to the very first Southern City Dante’s Abyss 2008 National Pre-Show Celebration!” There were small groups of cheers that arose from the audience, but nothing too spectacular. She was, to say the least, unsatisfied as of yet. “Alright,” she commented, preparing to challenge this mellow audience, “Let’s talk about last season. Like my good man over here said, I was not the most long-lasting contestant, but I think that by far, I was entertaining for my tenure. I got my face shot off—which I’m sure must’ve been a hilarious occurrence for the lot of you—and then I had the privilege of getting shot up by Bardock, the man who would soon become the Dante’s Abyss 2007 champion! Any Bardock fans out there?” There was a large cheer from one section of the crowd. “Good! It’s always good to have someone you support when you watch a reality show, am I right? I know that I supported Bardock when I was watching the 2006 season, so it was a privilege to be killed by him.” The crowd’s energy was rising—she could tell. “Then, I had that horrible choice of alliance—trust me; it doesn’t work out well to be aligned with midget goblins. No offense to any midget goblins out there, except you Garlic, but I just don’t think I could bear to align with someone who had a similar appearance. It’d remind me too much of him.” Zangya glanced over toward Odd, who was still standing at the edge of the pack. He’d spotted some police officers who had come to ‘watch.’ “But that’s enough about last year. Let’s talk about this year. I’ve got a new strategy up my sleeve this year—I’m planning to be more deceptive this year, instead of being aggressive like I was last year. Being aggressive is what—” she glanced back at Odd again, and saw the policemen running through the crowd “—is what killed me, and now I’ve got to run, so watch Dante’s Abyss 2008 and root for Zangya!” With this, the Ader left her spot at the podium, rushing down the stairs and in the opposite direction of the police. Well, this was going to be fun.

‘Great job distracting them, Odd. I didn’t even get to relay the message,’ she thought, and continued her rush towards the gates on the other side of the stadium. ‘Here we go,’ she signaled herself, and immediately kicked off of the ground, and using her regained ki energy shot herself into the air, darting into the clear, blue sky—she had escaped from the police. Now she just had to be ready for what Dante’s Abyss 2008 had to offer, because after this press conference, she could basically consider herself locked into competing.

There was no turning back now.

[Lethe]

Lethe got up with some displacement, stumbling a bit. He glanced around quick and jerky, reassuring himself that no one had seen that. His eyes were light blue, hungry for friends, and the idea of finding them was dismaying. As if everyone was out to be a disturbance. The air was stiffling and he craved a cigarette. Passing through crowds of people, his shoulders held up and back he noticed a few pretty girls.

Wouldn't get attached. Some of em may try to kill you, Lamerc put in.

Lethe grinned with an uncomfortable lurch of his lips. Then he noticed an attendant in a navy vest. "Can I smoke here? And can I buy smokes here?"

"No and yes. What are you, fifteen?"

". . ." The young Saiyan looked put off.

"Okay kid. But if you're training those aren't the best idea."

"It's whatever. They help with the aches."

"Sure kid. You'll find the stogie's for about ten bucks a pack that way," And he pointed east, the way Lethe'd come from. "And you'll need to smoke at the bar. Doubt they'll let you drink but they shouldn't hassle you too bad. Just givem' that asshole stare of yours."

"Whatever. Thanks." And Lethe turned on heel, back through the various crowds of fat cat observers crowded around fighters. He noticed a female in the far corner through the gaggle of gawkers demonstrating the control of chi with three lavender orbs, juggling. And then the young fighter arrived at the all stop shopping counter. "You take American cash?" He asked after waiting out a line.

"Sure. Won't trade it for zeni though. That's fighters cake. Gotta earn that." Lethe grimaced, not caring.

"Pack of," And he stopped realizing he'd need to prepare for several days. "Six packs of Camel filters. A napsack and a coke."

"Total comes to ninety-seven. Eighty-two eighty six if you're a fighter." Lethe flashed a calloused fist and nodded, the other hand fishing for a wad of cash. He brought out the money** Lamerc had confiscated for him, flipping through it to ninety. When the cashier sat the napsack up with Coke and Cigarettes Lethe remarked, "Ya'llve got everything here, huh?"

"Change is seven fourteen." The man replied.

"Thanks prick." The young saiyan took the change, clumping it with the wad and stuffed it away in the napsack. "Now.." His cobalt eyes scanned the rafters for a sign that said bar. "There. . ." He said, and headed south.


**A hunk of cash given to Lethe by the first NPC he met. Used for necessities only, so as not to interfere with rules.

OOC: Lethe headed for the bar to smoke.

[Aero]

Aero exited the teletubby with a grimacing look imprinted on his face. The machine, though impressively fast (it had transported him over 200 yards within the entirety of an inhale and exhale) failed to fascinate him.

Just a moment ago he was standing in an office room awaiting his departure to the event and now he was in a small lobby that was empty, with the exception of the pod he left from. The walls were blank and colorless; the floor naked. He walked forward. The lobby’s only opening was a hallway that extended further than Aero could see. It had a regal feel to it that reminded him of the competition he was leaping into. Its majestic undertone was almost a teasing feature that motivated him to win—maybe if he was victorious he could have a royal palace of his own.

He took his stroll down the foyer with mild annoyance (what was the point of such a long hallway, he wondered). On the left side of the hall were mounted pictures of past winners in Dante’s Abyss, incased in golden frames. They were all there—Android-18, from 2005; Raditzu, from 2006; and Bardock, from last year’s edition. One last frame was mounted next to Bardock’s image. It was empty. Aero stopped to ponder for a moment, but then simply ran a hand through his hair and continued walking.

***

Where the hallway ended another room began. This one, however, was not empty. Its walls were painted in vivid stripes of pink and yellow—an obvious decoration made by Karl Jaks himself. The carpet matched the wall’s color, minus the pink. Aero paid the colors of the room no attention. Instead he had his eyes focused on another decoration of the room. It was cluttered with beautiful women of all races and ethnicities (definitely an addition not pre-approved by Karl), simply standing around. In each of their hands was a pencil, pen, photograph, or t-shirt; in some cases all of the four. Aero licked his lips as he eyed the ladies up and down, almost with a look of hunger in his eyes.

“How’re you ladies doin?” he asked as he approached the group. “Lost? Need any help finding the restroom or perhaps even the living quarters?”

A few of the women threw a glance over their shoulder, but then proceeded to ignore him.

“You’re not Bardock!” one of them retorted from within the crowd.

Aero arched a brow. Why were these girls so interested "Bardock"? What type of name is Bardock? he asked himself. To him it sounded more like a catchy name for a tavern by the shore than it did a name. But then it came to him. Bardock—it was the name of the latest victor in Dante’s Abyss (he remembered him because his portrait was the only one done with a digital camera).

Fucking celebs take all the bitches.

[Android-18]

No one paid much attention to her, but somehow she felt no need to be surprised. She was not able to recall her past endeavors within Dante’s Abyss, which may have been for the best. However, that was why she was here. She had to have some trigger here, shouldn’t she? Someone had hurt her a year ago, and thus she had lost her memory. No matter, there was no use dwelling on it. Whatever happened here would happen, and what didn’t wouldn’t. Eighteen was beginning to confuse herself, so she shook her head and continued walking to her destination.

The teletube that had deposited was most unkind, thus giving her a hazy feeling, which was just now beginning to wear off. She now stood within the large depot where fighters of all shapes and sizes milled about going to and fro. She meandered toward the stairways that gave way to more booths, and various places to buy food, gain entertainment, or simply relax. The android cast her gaze about for anyone she may know, but none could be seen.

As she passed a vast sitting area with couches filled with waiting and bored warriors, she took sight of a television screen. It gave footage of the combatants that were to be in this tournament, and they showed their skills with much pride. She thought back to her own shoot, where she displayed her skills for the people behind this event.

“Just show us something you can do, anything flashy,” the woman said, she adjusted the camera and it fuzzed up the blonde’s picture on the viewfinder. “Smile, too, you look like a deer caught in the headlights!” the woman fiddled with the camera, getting it ready for a hopefully good display.

“Well, sorry, this is my first time.” The android confessed.

“What do you mean? Your file says this is your…” she paused and held the file up while looking down her nose, “4th year?” she looked to the timid girl.

“Never mind,” she threaded a hand through her hair and huffed. She had to do something cool, something that would make her stick out. In the end she resulted in some basic hand-to-hand skills and some ki blasts from her hands.

“Well…not the best I’ve seen.” The woman commented and zoomed in on the androids body, and then her face. “Is that it, girl?” she stepped from the camera.

“Well, I’m saving the best for the game, if I showed you my best that would spoil it.” The female boasted and stood proud, although she was pretty much faking the entire thing.

“Excellent! A real thinker, I’m glad to hear it. Now get out of here so I can tape some more fighters.” Eighteen was gestured to the teletube and whisked away. She felt upset at her display of power, but she was at a loss when it came to the limelight.

The smell of food roused her senses. The android took her direction toward the bar where food was being prepared for all of the people within the complex. She had to eat, hungry or not, because if they were to be stuck on an Island then surely there would be little to no food. She sat, she ate, and she smiled at the possible victories that could come.