Day One: Afternoon

[Retane]

The emerald fiend threw himself upon the ground at the foot of a tree. His lungs heaved in and out as sweat ushered from his pores so soak and cool his body. Staring off into space, with his one good eye, the war-torn warrior scrimmaged through his bag with one hand as he hunted for one of the few canteens he had captured in the last forty-eight hours, while holding his other, the left hand, close to himself. It had been injured by the source that he was fleeing from, the behemoth of power that had called himself, 'Eightzu'.

The rogue retrieved a canteen, and removed the top as quickly as he could, pulling the container to his lips and tilting his head back as the cool fluid drifted down his throat until the flask had been emptied. Taking one last swallow, the renegade dropped the empty canteen down and gasped for air as he had halted his breathing while he drank his fill. His body mechanics slowly began to adjust themselves as Retane closed his eye and rested himself, as he let his mind wonder.

Had the Abyss actually made a reproduction of it's self and given it the form of a humanoid? How else could such a creature of such raw and unnatural power have come forth to be spawned? One simple attack had done his body so much damage, and probably would have decimated him had it not been the vest he now wore. Ironic how the Abyss had pit him against such a monstrosity and yet he had been given the item that allowed him to survive.

Was it actually, in reality, nothing more then a game, of killing and survival?

No... Retane believed it was something more. It was as if the Abyss was of some divinity, with a craving of an abundance of chaos for it's own entertainment. Why else would the Abyss have caused him so much suffering thus far? It couldn't have been by coincidence, should it? No The namek was sure of himself. It all fell together.

Retane's eye cracked, and opened as he rose to his knee's. With his fully functional, hand the renegade, grabbed a handful of dirt and forced the minerals into a few of the cuts and gashes he had received, packing them as he gritted his teeth, as a meaning to halt the bleeding, and insult the Abyss. It was his first step of telling the Abyss that he couldn't be beaten or toyed with.

Finishing his personal savagery of survival first aid, the jaded one took to his feet. He glanced down, ignoring the tears and scorch marks upon what use to be camouflaged battle dress, and focused upon the injured wrist. He had faced injuries before, to his limbs, but regeneration was impossible for him at the moment, so removing the injured arm, wouldn't be the answer today. An injured arm, is better then no arm, he figured and with his right hand, began to tap into the darkness, summoning forth the dead, and concentrating it into his crimson glowing hand.

He was the master of survival, and the Abyss had underestimated him. He now understood, that the Abyss got it's rocks off by toying with him, forcing him to feel emotions he had never felt before, and pitting him in highly dangerous situations. Retane was a master of toying with his victims, but couldn't allow himself to be toyed with. It was, disgraceful. And he was tired of being disgraced.

Retane’s lip curled back, trying to hold a straight face, as he balled the injured hand into a fist and summoned forth the claws. The crimson ignited appendage grabbed a hold of the injury and squeezed tightly, causing the jade warrior to buckle in pain, yet hold out, as he looked on into the face of the Abyss. As calmly as he could the warrior slowly discharged the Rigamortis technique, concentrating it into the wrist.

His cerebrum engulfed itself in anger, as hatred of the untouchable foe, enveloped him fully. His body began to shake as he dropped to one knee, near his sack. His vision phased in and out for a moment, as he tried to gain control of himself. The Abyss was taking its toll on him he knew, but he had to fight it and remain calm. Blind anger, like the anger that was overcoming him was not the key. Not here, not now. Retane closed his eye as his subconsiousness brought forth the ringing of Karl Jax's voice allowing it to echo throughout his head.


"High noon, everybody, hope you all have some form of comfort! Get out your maps and get ready to cross some names off, because we've lost... Number Thirteen, Raspberry... Number Seventeen, Tapion... Number Thirty, Jack Sparrow...

Now, for the danger zones ..."


The voice drowned away as the rogue opened his eye.

"Names", he whispered to himself, rising to his feet.

"NAMES!!!!!" He roared out to the Abyss. "IS THAT ALL THEY REALLY ARE TO YOU!?!? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO THEY ARE? WHO THEY WERE!?!? DO YOU!?!?"

His chest heaved in outrage as he waited, actually expecting an answer. He knew he was beginning to loose it, yet struggled to hang on. He had to hang on, for his own sake.

"Tapion", his voice calmed as he visualized the face on the Konat. "Would I be in this mess, if you were still here? I wonder..."

"And Raspberry...", The gator-jins face faded into view with his comrade, "First it was our fault, now another has claimed your innocence... Did you give them a fight again?"

Retane let out a sigh as the images faded.

Names. They weren't just names. They were Horsemen, proud warriors that fought for what they wanted. And he was a Horsemen too. Now it was on his shoulders to represent them and take on the Abyss head on.

Retane threw his pack across his shoulder and extended a single claw from his glove, bringing it up to his face. Pressing the blade beneath the swollen eye, he drew a horizontal slash, releasing the pressure upon his eye. He lowered his arm and put one foot in front of the other, allowing his blood to shed the tears for the fallen, as he readied himself for the Abyss' next victim.