Day Two: Morning

[Burter]

Day Two
6 AM - Noon

"Hello again warriors! We're here at the second quarter of the the second day, almost to the top twenty! Here are the fallen:

#15 Warako
#18 Lethe
#19 Mowgli

Now, for the new danger zones:

A-1
G-3
B-4
E-1
E-9
B-2

The new easter egg will be put out at Noon, at J-7. It will be...an unbreakable Ki-Fused Katana! Good luck!"

[Talys]

Talys was very surprised. Probably the most so since the games had started. He gripped the cold metal of the shotgun's barrel and stared down into the eyes of a creature that should not exist in the body it did. The eyes of a killer.

I've under estimated you, my not-so-innocent companion. The standing figure's face contorted again into a twisted grin. We're far more similar than I thought. . .that could be dangerous.

"Let go of the gun or you may regret it," Dos looked up, red eyes flaring in the light of the rising sun.

"Heh, I like you," Talys responded after a moment's breath. "Much better than that pansy Uno. . ."

The changed man continued to stare towards him, a small amount of confusion setting.

"Oh, that's right. You've probably been just as blind as your naive, little other-half," the fighter at the end of the barrel explained, his voice taking a menacing tone. "I'm not a goody goody like the others. I'm not afraid to kill. And above all, I am in this to win. Point your little gun at me all you want, but never. . .never tell me what to do or get in my way. You're a lot like me. . .I can tell by your eyes. This might become a problem. Don't let it. Anyway, pleasure to meet you."

Talys smiled and pulled the weapon from Dos' hand, tossing it several feet to left. Feeling that he had sufficiently made his point, the competitor turned quickly on his heel and marched back to his bench.

This could alter things a bit too much.

He collapsed onto the hard, plastic seat and muttered a choice swear or two beneath his breath.

It was supposed to be so easy, too. . .Well fuck this.

Frustrated, he looked out to the dawn breaking over the horizon and began throwing pebbles from his sitting position. A bit of a nervous habit.

Fuck this all. I'm tired of sitting backseat on this fucking ride. This entire competition I've been stuck in the shadow of these ass wipes. . .They've been making all the calls, having all the fun, wielding all the fucking weapons! I didn't even get to take a fucking hit in the last fight! God damn it!

There was a sudden shattering noise causing the seated warrior to snap his attention up. He hadn't realized the force with which he had begun throwing the stones and had wound up breaking the window of a building several hundred feet down the street.

They've got me all worked up. . .that old saiya-jin and this Dos guy. . .Fuck. I definitely cannot put up with this that much longer. . .

Out of the blue, Talys knew the answer. The young human leaped to his feet and began to walk, blank faced across the street toward an abandoned building. The plan seemed so easy to him that he wondered why it hadn't hit him earlier. As he traveled a certain tune filled his head and he could not help but to sing along under his breath, almost laughing at his mental state.

"I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was. . ."

[Burter]

Face to Face

Aero, Celipa, Reijin, Vazko

Ever since Bojack and Zangya had left on their own, the duo of Aero and Celipa was being unusually quiet. They had welcomed a quiet newcomer - Vazko - into the group, but it hadn't caused anything to be anymore active. Without the other two peices of the puzzle, things were just dull.

Some ruffling from the side came and Aero stood up, holding the weapon he had around his neck carefully. "Hear that?"

Celipa stood as well, looking towards the bushes she thought the sound came from. "What was it?"

Finally, Vazko stood up. He remained in place on his own little patch of forest as both Aero and Celipa walked forward together. A small clunk came at his feet and he looked downwards at the small object. "Uh, guys..." He said, a little nervous. The two turned around to face him. "This is bad, right?"

Both sets of eyes looked down to see a tiny round object, missing it's tip, laying at the foot of the man named Vazko. They both went wide-eyed and immediately spun around. In mid-turn, an explosion erupted at the saiyan's feet, covering him in orange flames breaking apart the scarred bones.

"Down!" Aero shouted, fucking from the debris of the small explosion, rolling forward with Celipa. The saiyaness remained standing, only bent forward slightly from the pressure of the hit. "Someone's here!"

"There!" Celipa said, pointing her utensil at the intruder.

Standing in front of them was Reijin, a scarred saiyan with the sleeve of one of his arms missing. He had red stains on his stitched up arm, though he appeared to be using it just fine thanks to his encounter with a medical pack. In one hand, he held up a pitchfork, pointed to the sky, and in the other he kept a small beam of ki hovering in his palm. "If you set those down," he used his pitchfork to point at the binoculars around Aero's neck, "I'll let you walk away."

"What kind of arrogant prick are you?" Celipa hissed past her saiyan fangs, knowing damn well what kind of blood ran through the man's veins.

Aero just smirked and twisted the binoculars so they were hanging down his back. "Look bro, I'm a lot of dumb things but a pussy ain't one of them."

Reijin watched carefully as the two warriors in front of him began to summon ki around them. He could feel the wind begin to circulate as their energy level rose, though he hardly even flinched. Aero now sported pointy ears and whiskers while his fingers curled into claws. Celipa had already looked feline, but the crimson aura around her now brought the feature to life.

"Impressive," Reijin noted, "To a doll, maybe. But if you want to play with a superpower, try this on for size!"

As if someone pressed the light switch, Reijin's black hair changed to gold, his white faded aura becoming all the more brighter and shimmering. His intensity and strategic thinking started to fall back to his natural saiyan rage. This was the power he was born to wield. This was Super Saiyan.

Reijin lept forward, spinning his pitchfork to throw Aero off as his feet left the ground, smashing into Celipa's chest. She spun around and hit a tree while Reijin landed firmly on the ground, bring his pitchfork down to miss Aero's head. The feline man jumped backwards, blasting ki forth from his palms to hit at the saiyan warrior, though not getting even close.

Celipa threw two punched at Reijin, both of them getting blocked by a single wrist. Reijin then jolted his opposite wrist forward, penetrating her shoulder with his three-pronged blade. "Cel!" Aero shouted, thinking it had been at her heart.

Thinking quick, Aero lept forward, snatching both his and her bags on his way to Reijin and Cel.

The woman looked deep into Reijin's eyes, peering into the depths of his troubled, confused soul. Person to person, warrior to warrior, saiyan to saiyan. She felt his rage, his sadness, his loneliness and his willingness to kill.

Reijin felt her warm heart despite a fierce saiyan nature. He could see her naive willingness to trust and her optimism that everyone was telling the truth. He could feel a bond to her, both in hate out of competition and in love because of their shared racial blood.

The sudden staring contest was broken as Aero snatched Celipa from the tip of the pitchfork, throwing her over his shoulder with a grunt. Using his cat-like speed, he bounded off in retreat, knowing he couldn't win and he had to make sure Celipa wasn't too hurt.

Reijin, momentarily stunned, made no move to follow. He shook off the feeling and looked to the spoils of the bag left behind.

#04 Vazko DEAD

21 Remain

Celipa has been stabbed in the shoulder/chest by two of the pitchfork prings. Major injury.

No weapons were found

[Burter]

Face to Face

Dos, Paragus, Talys

It was a hospital. Four stories. Talys made damn sure that his comrades saw him enter and then scoped out the general area of the emergency room. He saw stairs near where the entrance was, which was where he would do in the event things got messy. He intended on making a big mess. The first thing to do was get a hold of Paragus' little toy...that would give him the advantage.

"Talys?" He heard, right on time. The man looked back to see Paragus walking into the waiting room, and then turned a corner. His hands landed on a needle sitting just inside a patient room, then gripping them. "Hey, buddy, where you going?"

The saiyan man, too trusting for his own good, walked around the corner to take find his friend. What he found was a needle jabbing into his neck, sticking out obscenely and causing him to fall backwards. He grabbed the device from Paragus' pocket and grinned, setting it in his own. He then pushed the saiyan backwards.

"What the--" He sputtered, landing on two waiting room chairs and causing them to fall backwards, spilling himself onto the ground. Whatever was in the needle was keeping him down. Talys stepped in front of him so he could see around the corner again, just in time to see Dos, overshirt off and glasses pushed to his head, aiming to shotgun.

"Shame on you," Dos said, "Tsk tsk. Getting caught was a bad move."

Talys instantly ran forward so the bullet smashed into the corner of the wall instead of his face. He bucked up the stairs, dodging another shotgun blast. "You can't shoot either, just like Uno!" He was shouting, "Come and get me!"

"Lucky bastard," Dos complained, but he did follow.

Once again, Paragus was left alone. He found himself struggling to get to his feet as Dos fired on Talys all the way up the stairs. He was woozy, but not knocked out, so as a saiyan it was his duty to make sure he was there for his comrades. But which one? Who was really his comrade? Who did he really trust?

Talys kicked the door open on the roof and ran out, jumping on a generator to the left. When Dos came out, he jumped off of it and tackled his former ally, knocking him against the barrier of the roof. The shotgun landed on the ground as the thickening thud of Dos' head slamming onto the concrete was heard.

"This would have never happened!" Talys was shouting, "If you hadn't been such pussies! If you used played the game the real way instead of picking off people who arn't threats, this wouldn't be an issue!"

Dos suddenly threw an elbow up and then jabbed Talys in the face, sending him into the generator. "You're the one who's too bloodthirsty to think straight!" Dos screamed, kicking him rival in the face.

Meanwhile, Paragus was starting to pant on his way up the stairs. He felt light-headed, but he was too stubborn to give up his trek to the battlefield up above. Everytime he thought about the people he trusted and the love he had for his comrades, he began to hate himself and the people who abused it. He was an old man - he knew better! He was a battle-hardened warrior! How could a saiyan be made a fool of by someone like Talys!?

"I'll kill you!" Came a scream from the stairway.

Neither warrior heard it as Talys took the upper hand again, throwing Dos by his arm to the edge of the roof where he slid to a halt. He quickly spun around, began to get up, and then it happened.

Talys fired the shotgun and ripped Dos' chest apart, blowing a hole right near his left nipple. The man let out a grunt and landed hard against the ground, barely breathing.

Before the killing blow was released, the door blasted apart and a small, yellow energy glow started to stream out.

Paragus stepped out onto the roof, his teal eyes staring daggers through the beautiful stream of golden ki energy at Talys. The human paused to look at the majestic beauty of Paragus' power, the ultimate transformation and glory of his race. He was one of the best now. The elite. The Super.

"I have been betrayed for the last time!" The man shouted, "I'll kill you!"

He ran forward with a shocking speed, but Talys pulled the trigger just in time to blast him backwards, sending a hole from the middle of his torso, out the back. "Nice try," Talys said, legitimately nervous.

Then Paragus looked up from all fours, growling and drooling with the lust of Talys' blood to guide him. Unable to control his ridiculous battle lust, Paragus ran forward again despite the injury spilling his organs into the open air.

"Oh, shit!" Talys panicked, pulling the trigger again.

Paragus was only three feet away when his collar was blasted apart and detonated. The Super Saiyan was covered in a massive ball of fire, sending Talys off of the roof and out of the eruption, losing the shotgun along the way. He tripped on his way off, falling the four stories down into the ground below.

Dos watched in shock as the burnt boned of Paragus dropped backwards.

Some solution you were, He heard in the back of his head.

But he was hardly listening. It wasn't like Dos to mourn the passing of someone, but this was different. This was a man who thought nothing of himself. But this time, he could feel honor. Honor that he had killed the man who betrayed him.

Dos was happy that Talys was fallen to his death, until he realized there only one corpse in the area, and it belonged to a truly kind saiyan.

#20 Paragus DEAD

20 Remain

Uno has been shot in the chest. Major injury. He gets the medikit, with one heal.

Talys has been caught in a collar explosion and fallen off of a roof. Major injury. He gets the GPS.

Paragus has officially earned Super Saiyan.

[Talys]

Talys wore a wicked grin as he danced and dodged between buildings down the streets of the city. Finally the thrill he had been waiting for! Much of his body was bruised from the fall and his breath came in short, ragged bursts. The irony taste of blood pierced his tongue. Injuries made his body weak, but his mind strong. He was alive!

"I'll have to 'thank' Uno when I get the chance," he chuckled, spitting a mouthfull of blood out at the base of a tree as he broke the city limits, "and that saiya-jin too. . .But it's a little late to 'thank' him. . ."

So that was a 'Super Saiya-jin'. . .interesting. . .and I survived it! The crazed warrior laughed loudly as he continued his dash, the industrial area fading behind him.

The laughter grew to an uncontrollable point of insanity at which the odd fellow lost control and broke into a reprise of his earlier song.

"I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was! To catch them is my real test! To train them is my - Fuck!"

Talys ran face first into a tree, causing his nose to bleed.

"Ow, fuck!" He massaged his bleeding nose in pain. "Fuck. . .just a little more alive right? Fuck. . ."

The competitor collapsed at the foot of the tree. No matter how thrilling the pain was, he needed to catch his breath to survive. A quick glance around his surroundings stirred recent memories. The tree and clearing that Talys found himself seated in was quite similar to that in which he slept early the day before. The only real difference was the absence of the endless expanse of blue that signified Dante's separation from the world.

"Haha, this tournament can be almost frighteningly peaceful when no one is around," He let out a sight and gazed up towards the sky for a moment. "Oh, speaking of which. . .I wonder what all my 'friends' are up to."

Talys reached into his pouch and pulled out the prize of his most recent assault. The eager soul pushed several buttons in succession and was rewarded as many shimmering lights shone upon his face.

"One little, two little, three little victims. . .Now my fun can start."

The youth's laughter kicked back in this time. . .one could not help but feel the sinister hint on this occasion.

[Orion]

The sun dawned on the second day of Orion's stay at Dante's Abyss. Fresh, warm daylight danced on his eyelids, stirring him from the several few hours he received during the early morning. Since the fight with the vicious, claw wielding Namekian, his mind and energy were instoppable. Enthusiasm, desire and war pumped through his soul after finally feeling that adrenaline rush, that inexplicable, irreplaceable sensation. Sleep was not a priority of such a mindset. It only wanted to clash with fists, calculate strategies and slay the opponent. Orion, with a much needed smirk, was slowly rediscovering his saiyan spirit.

But then he'd look at his companion. Apart from his ridiculous outfit, which Orion still couldn't tell if it was for confusing enemies or his personal dress sense, and the unusual number for a name, the black haired human just wasn't ... normal. Now, Orion hardly considered himself under that banner either, but there was something normal about his own abnormality. This Seventeen ... was he even all there? During the time before he slept, Seventeen acted oblivious to the outrageous statement his fashion sense made, even going to the lengths of worrying about the fake plastic fruit that towered into his hat. He seemed timid, introverted, even bewildered at the very events that happened around him.

Yet, when Orion first attacked, the transvestite fought with precision, skill and power that could not be possessed by someone as mentally frail and scattered as the Seventeen he conversed with. Battle is always more than the physical, and that was an aspect of which the veteran saiyan would never lose sight. Orion, in all his decades of fighting, had never seen such a delusional person put up such defences against a surprise attack. Not to mention the eagle eye accuracy of that ki rifle shot that ignited the Namek's molotov cocktail and charred his emerald skin black.

But perhaps the most disturbing thing to the one eyed fighter, shifting his newly acquired ki vest for comfort, was the resemblence Seventeen bore to someone Orion was very close to, once upon a time. He was someone that Orion didn't miss a day thinking about what happened to him.

"Tollash!"

"“You talk of leaving Vegeta for good? Getting away from assignments?” The pitcher arrived at the table, of which the giant saiyan grabbed enthusiastically and dispensed himself another mug. “How successful do you think you would be? You leave here, not being on a mission? No clearance codes? You and Parika ...” He put down his goblet long enough to illustrate with his hands and mouth that their ship would explode. “Not to mention little Kale.”

"What more is there than this, friend?”

Without knowing it, without ever knowing it, Orion ended up upon his knees, his one eye shut tightly, brow furrowed as deeply as was possible. He clenched his blue robe in both hands upon his thighs. It was all he could do to save himself from ... himself.

"Tirak..." he whispered.

"Hmmm? Wha?"

Orion was jolted back to reality. Seventeen had awoken, obviously catching the saiyan's solemn, breathed word, but in a half asleep trance.

"Oh, Seventeen," the cycloptic fighter acknowledged, pushing his risen emotions back into the depths of his soul. "You're up."

"Mmm," the absurdly dressed human murmured. "Did you say something before?"

"I was just thinking..."

Orion caught himself. He questioned himself. Was he about to share his thoughts with someone else?

"Just thinking, huh?" Seventeen continued. "You should see what I think sometime."

Phew. He didn't want to pursue that train of thought.

"Oh," Seventeen added. "I like your headgear."

Orion narrowed his eye, looking up to see only the brightening dawn sky before realising the human referred to his halo. "Oh yes, I-"

Seventeen was on his feet, already walking from their camp site. "Come on, let's go," he motioned without consulting his companion.

The black haired saiyan shot a smirk, but it came and went so fast that anyone watching could've been forgiven if they thought it was a facial twitch.

"On my way."

[Reijin]

Continued from: http://www.cdbzrpg.com/forum/showpost.ph...ostcount=3

Just focus on the kill and win the game... Focus...

The thoughts of the Saiyan fighter were pushed away as his training helped him keep his head in the game. His arm was feeling tremendously better due to the proper medical treatment from the kit he had won, but that had done nothing to ease the pain. He would have a constant reminder for all of Dante at how close he'd come to being eliminated on the earliest parts of the tournament. The muscle was no longer shredded beyond use, as the salves and stitching had seemed to bind them back together, but the nerves were still damaged and every move of his arm brought a sharp pain to his attention.

He relished it. Physical pain was something he had taught himself to ignore and handle. Each sharp jolt sent throughout his nervous system was nothing more than an encouraging slap of a ruler designed to bring about obedience. He was here to win this game, and every punch gave him a reminder of his purpose here. Kill or be killed.

Physical pain was always something that he would prefer to endure. With it came scars that were seen by other warriors as bragging rights, experience with things that many had not encountered. Every physical scar could tell a story and was a great way to spend an evening in a bar drinking the strongest alcohols of his homeland.

The mental pains were different in every way. Jun'ai had opened them with a searing hot knife and as much as he tried to focus on his planning and strategy, she'd managed to bring out self doubts and loathing of his failures or actions to the forefront of his mind, delving into that which he wanted buried. She hadn't gone as deep as she could have, but she'd gone far deeper than he wanted. Simply entering his mind unrequested was deserving of his undying hatred and contempt. There were some things about a person you simply did not fuck with. This was a few of them.

Mental scars could not be shown to anyone, and if they somehow could they were the type of scars many a warrior wanted to hide. To the strongest of warriors, anyone would prefer a disfiguring gash down the center of their face to the top of their groin as well as a loss of a limb or five, but none wished to see themselves stripped bare mentally, their true feelings on display for all to witness. No one wished to find themselves removed of their warrior's pride. Evenings at the bar drinking alone and thinking of your mental scars did not bring the jovial entertainment that a disfiguring mark could bring.

Finally, unlike a long bound old wound, the oldest of memories could still burn and writhe with a pain that the strongest of tissue damage could hold no contest with. An old physical pain would do nothing more than hinder the weakest of fighters, causing them to limp feebly in their struggles to fulfill their definition of living. The pain of things long to be lost to time, however, could often cause the death of the strongest and physically condition brawler, uncontested by any near in terms of fighting ability while all along the true killer lay deep inside.

For all his Saiyan taunts to the walking dead before him, he could feel no true emotion within other than the overwhelming pain that came from the scars within. As his eyes flashed and his face distorted, his core did nothing more than act by a volley of instinct and training alone, quickly blocking two strikes with one arm before thrusting his devil's spear forward to lodge it deeply within the breastbone of the unknown female Saiyan warrior before him.

"Cel!"

He could hear the voice of the woman's compassionate comrade nearby, having not been disposed of according to plan. He shut the man out as he stared into her eyes, his mind a homing beacon attempting to lock its crosshairs on the true tactical focus before him and narrowly missing each time it approached. He was confused, and his confusion was interfering with what should have been a simple three man kill that the youngest of competitors could have managed.

She looked into him, struggling to draw oxygen into her damaged lung under the pressure of the fork as her facade of strength faded while still maintaining a defiance that only a Saiyan could embrace in such a situation. Her eyes seethed, but she seemed scared at the same time, having not learned yet of the horrors that the Abyss could truely bring out from a person. He was one of them.

It was amazing just how much could be revealed of a person's soul by getting lost in another's eyes.

A series of thoughts seemed to flood his mind before one truely alien thought screamed at him from within.

So go on then. You are the cold and heartless demon here for one thing, aren't you? Remember, you are only here for one thing and that's to win this tournament through any means so that you can move on with your life, devoid and meaningless as ever, blindly stepping through a fixed path that you obviously have no control over until one day sleep takes you and you are released from the burden of ever hoping to actually accomplish something within your pathetic time span of existance.

The words ripped into him, Jun'ai having chosen this exact moment to abuse her femanine ire and finding the perfect moment to return the pain that she felt herself. She was truely a Saiyan female despite her human blood, though Videl had taught him something of women of any race.

Or...

The words echoed within his mind, his own feebly grasping out as the woman before him used her free arm to grab the pitchforks knives, futily attempting to struggle from the demon's grasp during his hesitation.

You can accept the small victories you've made here today and, while still winning this tournament, set yourself on a path to a far greater goal than the one you came here hoping to reach.

As if to free the male warrior from his internal conflict, the woman's partner slammed into her from her side, blindly wrenching her from the serrated edges of the blade in a painful maneuver that left a spray of blood and tissue showering onto the trio's skin, a scream of evisceration errupting from the female before him, a mixture of pain and rage. Before Reijin's killer mind had set itself blindly into following predetermined footsteps once more, the man gave him an unreadable look before throwing his injured companion onto his shoulder, leaping away quickly into the forest and leaving Reijin standing in his predicament.

He barely registered that she had been taken from him as he found his pitchfork slowly lowering to the ground, a chunk of flesh still hanging from the end of the barbaric weapon. Finally, he turned and looked at the bag laying nearby of supplies and walked over to it, giving only the most casual of glances to the smoldering corpse in the bushes.

"Dammit, woman, you caused me to lose the binoculars I wasted that grenade for..." he grumbled, blaming Jun'ai for his troubles. He picked up the bag and transfered anything of use to his own before tossing the empty one back towards the corpse without a second thought, pushing his way into the underbrush.

[Hellfighter 17]

Orion heard the android go, ‘Come on, let’s go,’ which interrupted his own speech short. On impulse, the saiyan let out a sly smirk on his face, and also as though on instinct it was quickly retracted and replaced with his usual wary expression. The slight smile lasted for barely even a recordable amount of time, almost as though his brain went like this:

Orion’s brain [6:23:37]: /smirk on
Orion’s brain [6:23:37]: /smirk off

with the timestamp displaying it to the exact same second. This is why it would most likely appear as a facial twitch to anyone who was watching.

Seventeen’s body was quite complex, as one would infer when biological tissue and organs were combined with electronics and machinery. Sensors were a vital part on the electronic side, as biological ones, while quite intricate in some ways, just could not be maintained for a long time, and cyborgs were supposed to last for hundreds of years. The primary sensors were placed where the eyes appear on humanoid beings, but that did not mean they were only there—there were other places, although none of them as utilized, efficient, or high-in-quality as the eyes.

One of the sensors was Seventeen’s rearview, which was simply a camera placed on his ass. It was able to filter light from an object right up next to, that is, clothing, and piece together the light to make a fairly comprehensive view of behind him, making the asscam one of the most complicated photosensitive devices created. The asscam was able to see Orion’s face even after he had turned around, thus enabling it to capture and store Orion’s smirk-twitch.

Now, Seventeen was very stupid when it came to accessing secondary and tertiary functions on his body—he did not even know how to activate the miniguns in his arms, one of the most lethal features of his design. Coincidentally, though, his central processing unit accidentally sent a command that overrided the primary visual sensors such that the asscam would comprise his primary visuals. Immediately he caught sight of the saiyan’s face as it appeared to do a muscular spasm.

‘What did your face just do?! That was freaking insane!’ Seventeen said, flailing his arms in front of himelf, which, from Orion’s point-of-view, did not look quite right. The android noticed that, although his head was moving while his arms were, his sight remained fairly unwavering. ‘O-M-G,’ he said, very perplexed. He started to run around frantically, and he noticed that his line of vision started to change again. Stopping, he started to move his head some more, but there was still no effect. Seventeen decided to do a bit of a dry heave with his body, thinking that would help, and, sadly, it did not. Swinging his arms in anxiety, he noticed that when he felt them behind himself, he could see the edges of his hands.

The android began trying to move only the back part of his body, which proved to be quite the difficult task. All that ended up moving was his buttocks, and, consequently, his vision shifted—A-ha! he thought. To confirm this, he began wiggling his butt around, which was easiest if he was bent forward slightly; next he started to move his pelvis around in a circle; and, lastly, he thrust his groin forward and back, forward and back, Orion watching in bewildered horror.

Although the results were clear, Seventeen decided to re-do the third experiment under different circumstances. Lying down on the ground, with hands supporting him up a bit, making it look like he was doing a lazy push-up, he began thrusting, his groin going into the ground every second or two. Orion was unsure whether to find the situation sickening or hilarious, but it was soon over, for another electric pulse in the central processing unit of Seventeen made it so that his eyes were the primary visuals again.

Standing up, the android said to the saiyan, ‘Well? What are you waiting for!’

[Android 17]

“What else has changed?” Minoshia inquired, pausing for a few brief moments to rip away a chunk of meat from his portion. Once the konat had swallowed the morsel, he turned his perpetually scowling visage back to the android and tacked on an extra sentence to his question. “Still playing guardian to that herd of weaklings?” The warrior’s voice was a serpentine hiss, his mouth curling up into a malicious grin as he kept talking. “…And Violet?”

“Heh,” Seventeen grumbled, looking down at the charred piece of meat that he held loosely in his hands. With a low growl, the android ripped apart the char grilled slab of food—his eyes flaring red as thoughts of that woman and the all the other heathens swirled through the depths of his mind. From his seat a few feet away, Minoshia watched with a sort of sadistic mirth as the machine-hybrid began to glow red once more.

“Take it I struck a nerve?” The konat snickered as he tore another strip of meat from his portion and devoured it, his gleaming eyes moving away from the cyborg.

“It’s none of your business,” Seventeen growled, taking a large bite from his meal as he needed a moment and wanted to chew it over with some rabbit meat. Minoshia merely smiled, knowing all too well that he should have anticipated that response from the android. Nevertheless, the dark prince was far too intrigued at this point to just shirk such an amusing topic.

As the machine-hybrid swallowed his most recent mouthful of food, Minoshia cleared his throat and stared at the strange, vengeful man that had replaced the old Seventeen that he had abhorred, more or less, for the last two years of his life. There had to be some reasoning behind the android’s erratic behavior, and despite his loathing of awkward interactions that involved absolutely no death, the konat was somewhat interested in finding out the mystery of the man seated before him.

“What’s the matter,” Minoshia asked, his tone of voice betraying any false sympathy he had been trying to express. “Did you have to die to save those little ingrates lately?”

“Hey,” Seventeen snapped, glaring over at the snickering warrior. “Poison any children lately, Minoshia? Or did you upgrade to baby punting?” The remark caused the scowl of the dark prince to fade into a hateful frown, but before the konat had a chance to counter the insult, the android suddenly vaulted off the ground.

That’s right. The voice sighed, sounding just as irritated as Minoshia looked. Aggravate the only person in this entire competition that’s worth trusting. You make me sad sometimes, buckaroo.

“Shut your mouth,” Seventeen groaned, shaking his head as he tried to reach down and collect his bag from the ground. On the horizon, the sun was already climbing up toward its apex, and with every hour, the ambient temperature was increasing by leaps and bounds. It was best that the duo made some progress before they had to pause to cool back down. And unfortunately for the android, the headaches and the debilitating fits of numbness were beginning to worsen. If he didn’t find a resolution quickly, then he knew that the outcome wasn’t going to be the most wonderful in the world.

“What?” The konat barked, grabbing his duffel bag and vaulting off the floor. In an instant, Minoshia and Seventeen were standing face-to-face—their mouths were tight scowls as they silently glared into the depths of one another’s warped, ensanguined souls. As the two warriors vied to prove to the other their superiority, auras of red energy began to flicker around their bodies. The fiery ki danced harmlessly across their features as neither the android nor the konat refused to back down. After a minute or so, the machine-hybrid’s expression softened just a little bit, and just like that, his mouth curved up in to a sinister smirk.

“Violet is a memory,” Seventeen rasped, the heat of his voice causing Minoshia’s facial muscles to twitch subconsciously. “A bookmark in one of the less appetizing chapters of my life,” the answer caused the shorter of the two warriors to reciprocate the malefic grin of his traveling ‘partner.’ With that remark, the android and konat simply backed away from one another, collected their things, and resumed their venture across the desert.

Bravo. The voice snickered, but this time, the interjection didn’t trigger another painful migraine. Instead of reeling in pain or screaming something obscene, Seventeen simply smirked as the gruesome laughter echoed within his mind. We’ll be working together soon, you and I. The formless presence added, prompting the android to nod his head. Little by little, the whole picture was beginning to come into focus, and as his time in the Abyss continued, Seventeen continued to accept the formerly unacceptable.

It would only be a matter of time before he was truly free. Free from those who would seek to extinguish the fire that blazed within him. Free from the stringent fallacies of truth and justice. Soon he would rise once more as a man reborn…soon his rage would be freed upon the world. Those who dare oppress him would be immolated by those unquenchable flames.

[Minoshia]

The night had been filled with tense moments, instances which nearly crossed the invisible threshold that separated words and fists. With every close encounter, none matching the intensity and the fervor that had come with the ‘Violet’ conversation, the ironic duo managed to diffuse the situation before either exploded into a furious anger. At any point in the past two years, either of the two men would have jumped at the opportunity to do battle with the other, now both of them found themselves backing out of heated situations. It was strange how things like this happened, and being the curious Konat that he was, he couldn’t help being intrigued in Seventeen’s new personality. For once in their history together, the two seemed similar, two years ago if that thought had even crossed his mind he would have doubled over in disgust. Regardless of the past he was satisfied with his current partnership – hell, he even felt normal compared to the increasingly unstable android walking beside him. He chuckled under his breath for a moment as the thought of him being normal crossed his mind; he had come to terms with the fact that he had some serious mental problems a long time ago, but that was just fine by him.

His mind escaped its wandering escapades and allowed his eyes to focus on what lied ahead. As they continued their excursion across the island of Dante, Minoshia found himself noticing they were following an increasingly erratic path and wondered if letting Seventeen chart their course had not been a failed plan. If there is one thing that cyborg is good at, it’s finding a fight. We of all people should know that. Fear not, it will not be long before these hands are wrapped around someone’s throat. The dark voice inside the Konat’s head reassured him of the machine’s intentions. The demonic hissing spoke up again in his brain, making a strange noise at first to gather his attention. By the way, we can stop twitching our hand so violently –our ally is sure to be growing uneasy… He hadn’t even noticed his fingers pulsating against his thigh; his palm was sweating with anticipation. Energy fizzled around his hand, and had indeed caught the attention of his ebony haired accomplice. He quickly shot his hand across his body and scratched his shoulder, finding some activity for his fingers to accomplish would keep them from twitching so noticeably. After the imaginary itch had been ‘tended’ to, he grabbed the strap to his duffel bag and held it firmly – giving the appendage a full time job.

“A little antsy, aren’t we?” The hybrid raised a single brow in an inquisitive manner. “Well, you can stop that,” He pointed at the still shaking hand of the dark child. “It won’t be long now… no, not long at all I suspect…” He finished his sentence, letting his words tail off in suspense. Minoshia grunted with approval, his upper lip tightening as he did so.

“Fighting alongside you,” Minoshia snarled, not in his usual cold, disgruntled manner, but with an amused sarcasm. A short snicker escaped him immediately after he’d finishing speaking, the cackle was matched by the android. “I can’t say we’re not intrigued.”

“Agreed.” His face contorted for a moment, his mouth opening once and closing before opening once more. This time imminent words followed the movement of his lips. “’We’… you use that term in reference to yourself on occasion, why?”

“Why do you talk to yourself? Shout at yourself even?” The Dark Prince was on the defensive once more, taken aback by the question. His reply was shot back like returning cannon fire, even if the two weren’t battling with their fists, the hostility that crossed the lines of communication suggested that a new type of warfare was being waged between the old rivals – a war of words.

“That, also, is none of your concern.” Machine or not, he could become quite emotionally charged about some topics. He was, without question, the most complex and ‘human’ android the Konat had ever crossed.

“Our questions have something in common then.” Case closed, cannon fire ceased. The brief topic was opened and closed faster than a bad book. The two were still in the process of reintroducing themselves, some chapters of their intricate personalities were better not opened – not yet at least. Ignoring the warning signs that had been flown at every conversation the two had embarked on recently, Minoshia dove in on what he expected to be another touchy subject. He knew he would never trust the android, but if he was to fight beside him then there were certain things he needed to explore.
“I couldn’t help but notice your growing anger, Seventeen.” Minoshia paused and waited for the machine-hybrid to acknowledge what he had said. When his partner refused to turn his head, he continued anyway. He did what he wanted, on his own terms, and this conversation couldn’t be stopped by a resisting party. “I can help you with that, if it is indeed what you are experiencing. Anger, burning rage, blood lust… all things that have plagued me for as long as I can remember… but they are not burdens, they are gifts.” The Konat was growing increasingly uneasy, he was making an offer to his worst enemy – he was explaining himself to someone who had been a victim of the very rage he spoke of. His stomach churned as the urge to vomit stirred in the depths of his being, he suppressed his own disgust and desire to purge himself.

“A gift which you use to maim women and children?” Seventeen dismantled the idea of anger being a gift with a scoffing reply, his voice hissed with a venom that was genuinely familiar to Minoshia, except generally he was delivering the poison-laced words.

“In time, Death comes to us all…” Minoshia’s voice drifted off, his tone had become menacing and dark once more. “Who I send to their demise, and how they meet that demise, is ultimately immaterial in the grand scheme of things. The strong survive, the weak perish. That is the way of the world.”

[Aero]

“You’re gonna be okay!”

No response.

“We just have to get away from that fucker, and somewhere safe!”

No response.

Aero leapt from tree to tree, escaping deeper into the confines of the forest. His transformation, though not powerful enough to topple—or even harm, for that matter—the saiyan, proved to be fast enough to escape him. His feline ears heard nothing but the branches that he leapt from.

Celipa was carried on his shoulder, almost unconscious. Her vision blurred in and out as faint wheezes were the only sounds coming from her mouth. She was lucky to be alive. A three-pronged injury just a few inches from her heart left her in a critical, but stable state. Her lung, however, had been fucked like a Vietnamese prostitute. Blood ran from the wound and down onto Aero’s shoulder and arm.

No clearings were in sight. Only trees, upon trees, upon trees. It was perfect for their getaway and concealment. Aero jumped down onto the soil (it was moist from the dew the night before) and placed Celipa against a tree. He peaked around; making sure that the saiyan was no longer visible. The last thing that could have entirely made Aero’s day was this man to be faster than he was. No one was around.

Celipa hacked up blood, placing a hand over her wound as he shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved all that he had gathered from Vazko’s bag before Reijin ransacked it—a compass, a map, and a small container of Bourbon. Aero drank, and knew that alcohol like Bourbon could clean the wound.

“This is going to hurt like hell,” he muttered, ripping a piece of his sleeve off and soaking it with the liquor. “But hey, better to hurt like hell than be in hell, right?” He moved Celipa’s hand out of the way and placed the soaked makeshift rag over the room, applying pressure.

Celipa cringed, her face twisting into the visage of a weeping dog. It was a burning pain that she would have preferred to live without, but Aero insisted, applying more pressure. She cringed more.

“You’re doing good, baby,” Aero remarked, taking the sleeve remnant and flinging it into the forest. “You’re probably in a lot of pain, but you’ll live. We just need to report back to the rest of the group and we should be able to fix you up there.” He picked her back up—she yelped as he tossed her over his shoulder. He then cut through the forest’s trees, relying on his speed to save her.

[Android-18]

“I’m feeling so rested,” the blonde stretched as she walked into the streaming sunlight. Her companion stood drinking from his water bottle and he then looked toward her. Her white shirt seemed so tight on her now, although he’d seen her in it for a while now, he couldn’t help but stare. “I’m hungry.” She walked past him toward their packs; they were neatly set against a large boulder.

“Oh, hey, I got us something while you had your nap.” The android turned and then jumped as Raditzu tossed a rather large rabbit at her feet. She stared at it with utter horror filling her face. “Oh…” he paused, now considering that his partner may not like the sight of such a dead creature.

“I think I lost my appetite.” Eighteen turned and held her knuckles to her mouth. She knew that many animals were food, but a poor rabbit? It had probably been helpless, and Raditzu had killed it! She wanted to cry, but she took a deep breath and stopped thinking about the murder of bunnies. “I’ll just have some more bread once my appetite returns. If I’m gonna eat meat I’ll eat it when it’s…prepared.” She gave him a weak smile and picked up the sniper riffle.

“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” He apologized and she heard him move about, probably doing something with the corpse. “I’ll figure out what to do with this. Anyway, how about you check out the surroundings? Maybe we’ll head off and find some water somewhere. I could use a quick wash.” The android couldn’t agree more. He was stinky.

She left everything but the ki pistol and started to scout ahead. The scar upon the island lay ahead of them and the cave behind her. She continued along the way if they had not stopped. The withered grass and shrubs rustled lightly and the breeze was lovely against her cheeks. She smiled and hummed softly, picking a safe way along the rocky path. She knew that she also needed a wash; she had been perspiring as of late. She wiped her brow and looked upward toward the blue sky. Sunlight filled the island, and small puffy white clouds made the day wonderful. It was good to be alive, for now. She chuckled and watched as a bird took flight and circled before trailing off toward some distant location. She continued to walk again, her steps light and her soul calm. It certainly was a pleasant day for a stroll.

[Violet]

A new day dawned over the sleeping form of Violet as she stirred beneath her blanket. Wait, blanket? She bolted upright, her heart racing as said blanket fell around her waist. Where the hell did this come from? Eyes darting wildly around the camp, she spotted the dark form of her partner nestled against a tree opposite her, his eyes ever so observant of the movement. He didn’t say a word as she scrambled to her feet, but only continued to watch in his quiet, stony way. Why the hell were her clothes wet?

“Mornin’ sunshine;” she greeted the gloomy Saiyan. He only huffed in response, his fingers caressing the handle of the notched axe laying in his lap. “Fine, don’t talk to me;” she said as she folded the blanket.

“We don’t have time to talk.”

Shooting him a perplexed look, Violet shoved the blanket into her sack. Its owner would just have to deal for now. “Of course we do.”

“No, they’re close. I can smell them;” he licked his lips hungrily, the first hints of a smile cracked across his face, the tips of his dainty fangs touching the sensual curve of his lower lip. An involuntary shudder rolled up her spine as she imagined once more – damn it, she didn’t have time to think about that!

“You look a little excited over there, Bar Bar;” she grinned. “I have to admit, though, so am I.”

Forking a bushy black brow, Bardock responded. “Why is that?”

Violet stilled for a moment, her body going rigid, eyes closing as she recalled the dream. It had been like old times, her and her gun. Blood painted the vivid walls of her dream, bodies strewn in haphazard heaps across fields of emerald and ruby. When her eyes slowly drifted open, there was no mistaking the crimson hue of their irises. She turned those red tinged eyes towards her partner. “I want to feel the pulse of another body as I shove my hand into their abdomen. I want to hear them plead for mercy as my fingers wrap around their heart, each beat dancing into my palm. I want the same thing you want, Bar. I want to kill.”

That familiar voice had returned, the husky whisper of the siren as she pulled her victims towards the perilous rocks in the darkness. She was that voice, and he, the rocks that would smash their competition against their clammy, blood soaked shores. Her lips parted, revealing her own set of canines. “I want their deaths.”

[Burter]

Face to Face

Aero, Bojack, Celipa, Kirano, Zangya

Even though it wasn't the smartest idea to do, Zangya had insisted on making a fire to celebrate the huge group of people unified together. So, the five warriors all gathered around, thinking different thoughts, while Aero fed the fire and Zangya passed around water and bread.

Aero was sitting with Celipa's head in his lap, sleeping soundly. He was trying to run through the fight he had a few hours earlier, trying to come up with some kind of weakness. How does somebody beat a super saiyan when outmatched by so much power? If he wanted to win the game, it was going to have to go through Reijin, and he wasn't totally sure he could do that.

Celipa was purring a bit as Aero stroke her hair, almost lovingly. If she had the strength, she would have shouted at him for making a move, but at the end of the day she had to admit it felt good to be soothed whilst in such pain. Her chest had been pierced by a pitchfork, so she was struggling to breath even whilst laying there. It was good to have the warmth of a fire and the trust of her friends.

The quietest one, by far, was Kirano. He was like a robot, sitting there cross-legged in front of the flames. He wasn't appreciating trust, he was trying to figure ways to destroy it. In his head, he was running through strategies of how to kill each person in the group, one by one, in the quickest manner possible. He had decided the easiest target was the wounded Celipa, but it was would be tough going through Aero. He was confident he could go through Zangya, but Bojack might cause trouble.

Speaking of which, the Ader was quietly sipping his water, whistling between gulps. Nobody seemed annoyed by his constant tunes, so he continued to hum songs he had heard before, wiggling his head around as he looked from person to person. He saw Aero and Celipa curled together, then Kirano, and finally--

"Where's Zangya?" He asked, realizing someone was missing.

A shadow moved in the bushes. Everyone moved to get up. Bojack let out a grunt as something in his chest began to burn. Nobody seemed to notice as they were too focused on trying to find out where the female had gone. "You check that way," Aero told Kirano, moving in the opposite direction.

Bojack dropped to one knee, his eyes starting to bulge. Kirano stopped walking as he saw the man in clear pain. Celipa was watching from her place against the tree. "Jack?" She asked, "What's...?"

Before she could speak, Bojack opened his mouth. "Poison!" He shouted loud, enough for anyone nearby to hear. "POISON! I'm gonna fucking..."

Kirano lept backwards, dodging the spewing of filth from Bojack's mouth. The Ader released his organs and anything he had eaten in the last day, vomitting all over the ground. Two seconds after he finished throwing up his insides, he fell to the side, frozen in a shocked, pained state.

Aero ran back to the campsite and immediately threw his canteen of water on the flames. "Her bag is gone," He told Kirano. "Get Celipa. We're leaving."

"Jack..." Celipa was saying as Kirano picked her up without a word.

Zangya was already a football field away when she lept over a log and paused, looking back to see the campfire had been put out. She had been feeling good about herself until she heard something carried through the air, along with all of the anger and animosity that was born from the Abyss.

"Zangya!" The booming voice of Aero said, "Through hell or high water, you will DIE for this!"

#27 Bojack DEAD

19 Remain

Zangya has stolen Bojack's throwing stars. The Poison is gone.

[Reijin]

Continued from: http://www.cdbzrpg.com/forum/showpost.ph...ostcount=7

It wasn't working. He hadn't swiftly sliced and cut his way through the tournament, leaving a pile of corpse through which he'd climbed his way to the top. He was simply falling into the same routine and regardless of how easily he could cripple those he came across, he had yet to gain any true ground in the tournament as a whole.

He cursed the air openly, angry at a number of things for what was going through his mind. "Jun'ai, what is your problem? What will it take to be rid of you?" he growled.

Just worry about yourself. If there is anything I'm learning from you, here, its that if I want to accomplish anything then I should throw myself blindly at the problem and hope that I kill it before it kills me. I came here after having helped you a number of times, this time lowering myself to asking you for a request of my own, and you've clearly made it obvious that you have no intentions to do so. If you wish, you could just detonate your collar for both our sakes so that I can return to my own time and begin working on a new plan, if there is still time.

Yeah, he realized. She was still extremely angry and spiteful. "You act as if you knew nothing of my character before having contacted me in the first place. You knew that I had destroyed your father in my time and you knew that I'm one of the damned. I have nothing in this world and nothing in any other. I have no reason to care what you think."

Then maybe you should start. If you ever thought of someone else in your life then maybe you wouldn't have such a bad strand of luck.

"I don't need your bitching. I'd rather be in hell than to suffer your banshee's wail any longer." He slammed his pitchfork down into the grass as a walking staff as he trudged along, debating taking the fork to his own throat to escape the woman.

[Android 17]

“Heh,” Seventeen muttered, his line of sight falling down to his muddied combat boots. After a short beat, he flashed a quick glance at the warrior with whom he had developed a bizarre, tense camaraderie with over the course of the last few hours. The konat’s declaration swirled within the twisted instabilities of the android’s mind, and just like that, the wall that had been existed there to bottle away Seventeen’s subconscious splintered.

You can’t argue the logic. The voice spoke up, sounding just as calm and complacent as it had since the arrival of Minoshia. The sickening glee in its words only solidified the machine-hybrid’s previously fledgling belief that the dark prince was some sort of catalyst in the plans that the voice had seemingly been plotting and planning for years. And despite the horror and gravity of the presence’s scheming, the android was powerless to stop it, and from time to time, he began to realize that he was slowly become acclimated to the insanity of it all.

“I…agree,” Seventeen whispered under his breath, his words a callow, sinister murmur that caused the konat to glance over his shoulder at the android. Although the android didn’t bother to return to look, part of him already knew what the expression of the mohawked warrior would convey to him. It would be that same sensation of confusion and satisfaction that Seventeen found himself overwhelmed by at times. It was the same strange stirring of emotions that accompanied the vengeful thoughts that swirled about the bleak madness of the android’s mind.

“That’s promising,” the konat snickered, a malign grin stretching across his sweat-stained face as the two continued their trek. It had been roughly a few hours and they had yet to stop for water or shade. After all, neither of them wanted to show any signs of weakness in front of the other, lest they would somehow come off as inferior in the eyes of the other. The smirk quickly faded into a characteristic frown, and with a faint sigh, Minoshia lifted his arm up to his head and wiped the sweat from his hairline.

“Yea,” Seventeen grumbled, placing a sweaty palm to his temple as he tried to ignore the mild ringing in his head. “…thanks, I guess,” he added as the duo’s march came to a halt in front of a small oasis. The android’s mouth dropped open into a small o as the two overheated warriors inched closer to the pond of spring water. Due to their nihilistic natures, neither of them wanted to believe that they weren’t just seeing things, and even worse, neither of them wanted to look like a moron in front of the other.

“Is it real?” Minoshia rasped softly, turning his fiery eyes to his cybernetic traveling partner. The android turned to face the konat and simply shrugged his shoulders—unable to discern a confident answer. With a faint growl, the dark prince lifted his palm and fire a small burst of ki at the sand that surrounded the small pool of water. As the two rivals watched, the ground exploded upward in a plume of smoke, sand, and dirt. Dropping his outstretched hand back to his side, Minoshia turned to the android and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Well if it burns,” Seventeen muttered, smirking faintly as he wiped the sweat from his pale forehead. “I guess that means it’s real,” needing no further prodding, the two warriors jogged forward and calmly dropped to the ground in front of the diminutive pool of spring water. Beneath the cool shade of a pair of palm trees, the pair of rivals silently rehydrated themselves as the sun veered toward its apex.

[Bardock]

Bardock’s lips formed into an even wider smile, but it was not that of joy, or amusement. It was to mask his confusion. Her sudden alteration had been…unexpected. As he stared darkly into her eyes, he was surprised to find nothing but pure truth in their scarlet depths. His nose lightly sniffed the air. Even her scent had changed. Not more than a handful of hours ago, she had been angry with him over his inconsideration. Now, she had transformed into some bloodthirsty fiend, anxious to kill by his side. Bardock hadn’t even believed this was possible, and he still didn’t quite believe, even with all the proof right in front of him. Humans had never demonstrated the capability of completely letting themselves go to the thrill of it all. Bardock, a saiya-jin, was killer-born, not killer-made. Had he somehow provoked this perverse metamorphosis? It didn’t seem right. This wasn’t the Violet he knew…

And why the hell did any of that really matter?

It was exactly what he’d been asking for, all wrapped up in a beautiful, deadly little package. Although he was disturbed, he was excited by the prospect. Moments ago, he’d been prepared to be completely silent for the duration of the tournament. After but those few seconds, they could finally see eye-to-eye. The fighter’s grin grew—this time out of pure indulgence. The sun was rising on what was going to be a very bloody day. The leash was coming off the chain.

“Then let’s get some,” he finally answered, his face a mirror of pleasure. Breakfast was eaten, supplies were packed, and camp dismantled quicker than it had ever been done before. Within minutes, they were off and running. She matched his pace much more easily and efficiently. It was as if everything he had perceived about her had melted away, revealing something truly horrifying hidden deep within. He liked it. He couldn’t wait to see it in action. Violet acted different, moved different, smelled different…Bardock wondered if she even tasted different. But that was going to have to be saved for later.

Finally, after all that had happened, some good-old fashioned fun was to be had.

[Zangya]

She was alone.

Her heart was racing. She rushed through the streets, attempting to find some place of refuge—she could find nothing that offered her even the slightest hint of safety, and she was sure that by now, they were already catching up to her. She could not understand why she had done what she did, but she did understand why she was running now. The fighters behind her were much stronger than she, and even if it was a fake death, Zangya’s memory recalled intense pain—however brief it was—upon being sent to oblivion in Dante’s Abyss.

The Ader-jin’s feet trampled the pavement below as she rushed through the city, her mind telling her this and that—thankfully, she had stolen Bojack’s survival bag upon his untimely demise, and left the others with nothing—well, perhaps Kirano still had his supplies—and with that, the jade-skinned woman had taken off, not taking a second thought to explain her actions to her friends… Heck, she couldn’t even explain her actions to herself! Now, her mind was riddled with wonderings of ‘why’; why had she done this? She couldn’t form an answer in her mind or with her voice. She simply told herself to keep on running, because right now, there was only one thing important to her: herself.

The empty vial in her hand had taunted her for thirty hours, and finally, she had spilled it gracefully into the lips of another, and killed them. She had tasted victory, she had tasted the art of the kill—and now, it seemed, she had gained a thirst for more bloodshed. She couldn’t tell you why, but she had felt herself giving into the temptation of laziness while traveling in that large group—and she had to admit, being alone, while entrancing her with fear, already seemed far more enticing than traveling with a group ever did. She remembered last year, remembering how her partner had been the reason she died.

Her feet carried her through the streets, trying to find a building she thought they might not look in. She couldn’t find a single thing, and as she quickly made her way towards a large fountain. She raced up to it, halting herself suddenly on the edge and dipping her head down inside it. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Her face felt relieved, suddenly, as the water coasted along it, cleaning it for what seemed like the first time in too long. She looked upon herself as she raised her skull from the water, and pushed her wet hair back, tying it in a pigtail that extended from the side of her head. It was an unnatural look for the princess of war and fear, but it was one that she had enjoyed in her youth. In her happy youth. She had never felt any of the darkness that she felt now back then.

Perhaps that was why she was here. Perhaps she thought that witnessing this carnage would make her revert back to her former self—it was possible—and that she may become a better person through it all. She looked at her reflection; it looked innocent. It looked betrayed, even though she had been the one who had taken the role of the betrayer. Her life was over at the beginning of this competition—suddenly, the feelings of fear flushed over her—and now, more than ever, she felt responsible for herself, for her actions. She gazed at the city around her, and collapsed. Everything was falling apart, and it could never be rebuilt. She huddled close with her only companion, Bojack’s survival bag, and let tears run like waterfalls down her cheeks. Her mind had left her, and she had been rash. Now, she had to pay.

She let out a massive scream, calling whoever was near to her location—death was what she deserved. She didn’t deserve to live inside this world called Dante any longer. This taunting planet, this conniving earth; it had never felt altogether right to her, and from now on, she knew, she would be alone in this massive display of violence. This war, this free-for-all, was hers to fight now. And suddenly, everything seemed right. She had been condemned when she had entered the competition, and just now, she had felt new, she had felt brash, spontaneous, free—she had turned into a person that took risks. She had played the game for the first time, and she had, in one small way, made a victory. This game was hers to lose. This game was hers. She gazed up at the sky, the clouds brightening with the oncoming noon. For the first time in forever, a true, genuine smile was plastered on her face.

The young woman leaned achingly up against the fountain. Her head was aching her sorely, but this injury was the least of her worries right now. Right now, she had to focus on making sure this was the only injury she maintained for the remainder of the game—perhaps that was unrealistic, but what it basically mapped out for her in her head was substantial. She had to do something, find something to protect herself… otherwise, she wouldn’t last too long. She had gone this entire time without a true weapon, the game allowing her only enough to deceive and then destroy under the cover of friendship, a weapon that forced her to betrayal…

“My beloved,” she heard him say. She turned, and there he was, standing in the water, the fountain pouring down onto his immaterial body. He was with her, like he had always been before. He stepped out of the water, and caressed his love’s cheek—she felt his warm touch, so different from the cold air that had been circulating about the island. It seemed impossible, what was occurring, and perhaps it was, but it was almost deceiving how realistic his blue hand felt. She melted as his lips met her forehead, a single kiss assuring her that he was real, whether he was actually there or not. The Ader wrapped her arms tenderly around his waist, and held herself close to him, closer than she had ever allowed herself before. He floated upwards, lifting her into the sky—she looked down and saw her body standing there, hugging nothing, and felt her spirit fly with him.

The island was beautiful. She never could have felt it from the ground, but now, as Gokua lifted her up, she saw the island in its full glory. Its plains were vast, and clear; its city a remnant of the lovely past which must have once made itself welcome here—she watched, almost betraying herself with the hope that this view from the stars would give her further satisfaction, perhaps advantage. She was disappointed as any figure that might have been a competitor disappeared from sight, and having no more reason to look out at the island, she pressed her head into her love’s chest, beckoning him to take her back down to the city. She had found her weapon—she had found something to protect herself. No longer did she feel unsafe. No longer did she feel alone. Because she wasn’t.

She was not alone.

[Uno]

Dos stumbled out of the hospital, clutching his chest with one arm and the shotgun with the other. He made his way back to the camp, flinging his weapon to the ground. He dragged out the former trio’s survival packs from their hiding place, digging through them to find the med kit. Finding it, Dos ripped off his sleeveless shirt to heal his wound. Examining the injury, he found that the small hole went straight through his body. Luckily for him, the Ki bullet barely missed his heart. The white-haired man then pulled out the all purpose medical cream from the kit, applying it in the hole in his chest. It stung for a moment, but the cream quickly took effect as he grabbed the last bit of medical supplies from the container.

“Tch. Arrogant fool.” Dos muttered, wrapping gauze around his chest. He discarded the now useless med kit and grabbed a bottle of water, pouring it over his body. The shirtless psychopath then shook his head around, his damp white hair swaying back and forth. Finding himself dry, Dos put his undershirt back on. “At least now I don’t have to worry about the others dragging me down.”

“Don’t speak about him like that!” Dos heard in his mind. “He was a dear comrade who gave his life trying to protect us!”

Dos smirked, picking up the shotgun that laid near him. “Don’t start yelling, you cowardly bastard. I respect him for fighting against that traitor, but now he’s dead. Too bad Talys didn’t die with him. Other than that, I don’t see any reason to pity his sacrifice.”

“So basically,” Uno began, “you don’t give a damn.”

“Now you are learning! Besides, that old saiyan would have just slowed us down in the long run.”

“Is that why you let him die?!”

“So you’re blaming his death on me? Ha! You heard what Talys said. He betrayed us because of your spineless tactics. That’s why the old man died. If you are going to blame anyone, then blame yourself!” He pumped the shotgun once, looking around for something to shoot.

“No…I…I was just trying to…”

“At a loss for words?” Dos remarked. Off in the distance, he noticed a bunny rabbit hoping around. He laughed. “When you first created me, you were crying, begging for help that wasn’t there. Then I came along. I offered to change you for the better, to make you immune to the effects of emotion. And what did you do?” That bunny then looked over at Dos. It turned and began hopping toward him. “You thought my methods were too cruel, that I was too egotistical. You shunned me, hide from me, you did everything in your power to get rid of me. But you can’t.” Dos lifted his gun, aiming at the rabbit, which kept hopping, closer and closer. “That’s because we are just too different. While you are weak, I am strong. While you are cowardly, I am daring fearless. That’s why I am claiming this body from you. From now on…” The red-eyed psychopath began to pull the trigger. “I am Dos!”

******

His hand froze, still aimed at the incoming rabbit. He grunted, unable to pull the trigger. “What the-!” The more he tried to fire the shotgun, the more his hand shook. Then his other arm reached around and grabbed the barrel of the gun. It yanked it away from his other hand. “What’s going on?”

“My body belongs to me!” Uno yelled.

“Like hell it does!” Dos roared, regaining control of the right arm. He grabbed the handle of the gun and began to pull it back. Uno’s arm kept holding the barrel, pulling his side as well. In a matter of moments, the single body was on the ground, wrestling with himself. Rolling on the road, Dos finally released the weapon from his other self. But Uno’s arm curled into a fist, slamming into his jaw. The shotgun was knocked aside as Dos cupped the fist with his hand. Uno then took control of the right leg, kicking the left.

“Son of a-.” Dos groaned, flopping around on the ground, trying to win the war with his own body. He wrapped the left leg around the right, keeping it in place. Then Uno’s arm pushed Dos to the side, slamming his face into the gravel road. Dos’ arm then tried reaching for the shotgun, but Uno bit him in the bicep. Now in control of both arms, Uno grabbed his face, holding it back. The legs and the torso were soon back under his control, until the only thing still struggling was Dos’ head.

“You can’t do this to me!” he roared, biting one of Uno’s fingers.

“We’ll see about that!” With that last line, Dos screamed.

******

Picking himself up from the ground, Uno dusted himself off. He had won against Dos, and displayed that he was the rightful owner of his body. He looked down at his pet Grenade and picked it up. He grabbed his weapon and gear and headed out.