Day Three: Afternoon

[Burter Jr]

Day Three
Noon - 6:00 PM

OOC: I'm tired, gonna lay down, so this is going up early

"Good afternoon, everybody! I'm sure you all heard the huge explosion earlier. Turns out one of the weapons gave quite a bang, eh?

Here are the fallen warriors:

#02 Goku Jr
#04 Hasky
#13 Android 17

Now, the danger zones are changed, along with a new rule. Your maps will be switched with a new map that will hold all the new danger zones, when I finish this broadcast.

The rule is simple. If someone isn't dead every 12 hours (48 OOC hours), everyone loses. In other words, if we go, at any time, 12 hours without a death, it's over. That's a lot of people dead. So...let's make sure we keep things moving, eh?

Good luck, everyone!"

[Super Buu]

OOC: Consider this for yesterday's thing. I'll probably get up another soon with thoughts on the new rules.


Super Buu cursed, watching in concern as his younger-looking brother collapsed, a single word - ?me? - escaping his rubbery lips.

?Shit!? swore the tall majin, the added stress of his brother?s unconsciousness adding onto Seventeen?s death. Everything was going wrong, too fast for his mind to comprehend. He dropped to his knees, bashing his head against the ground. I?m not a leader ? I can?t be responsible for anyone else ? I can?t handle this, Seventeen!

A hand pulled him swiftly up, followed by a wavering voice. ?Super ? we need to move.?

?Right,? muttered the monster, standing up suddenly, abruptly. ?Move.? Picking up his brother, he began jogging back to camp, saying nothing on the way.

They arrived back at the camp, where the grim sight of Goku?s corpse still lay as if to confirm that the betrayal had happened, and that it hadn?t been just a dream. Buu looked at the corpse and felt a fresh surge of anger rush through his being. Another, lost to low-down dirty deception. He simply couldn?t understand why anyone would resort to something like that. Surely, the whole point of the competition was to test your fighting skills? What gratification could you get from killing someone that way? It went against the whole point of being a warrior!

He roared, anger amplifying his voice and causing it to tremble through the air. He felt only one thing: rage. Buu wanted to get his hands around that Minoshia?s throat and throttle the life out of him, but the bastard was already dead.

?Buu,? said a voice from behind. ?We should bury ? Goku?s body.?

The monster spat, his face screwed up in anger. ?There?s no time. People will be coming - they saw the explosion. We?ll have to leave it.?

?But -?

?There?s no time!? he repeated, not bothering to explain himself. Simply raising his voice was a sufficient persuasive device. He looked over at the boy?s pack and considered taking the supplies, but the water was poisoned. Hell, the food could be too. For all Buu knew, all of their water had been poisoned, and Goku had simply been the unlucky one. Once again, he cursed the cowardice of his ex-ally.

Striding over to his pack, he placed the prone body of his brother inside, hoping he was still alive, but finding his emotions so numb as not to care anymore. Without another word, he shouldered the pack and walked off.

[Burter Jr]

Click This to View the Updated Map

[Android-18]

Slap!

Eighteen had hardly paid attention to the drama that ensued. Instead she had simply watched, as well as took stock of the surroundings. Another one bites the dust, well, more like a few. She had hardly gotten any sleep, and she would likely get any now. It was afternoon and their game master wasn?t playing games anymore. If no one died in 12 hours, everyone would lose. Would she rather try to win? It was actually something she considered.

Slap!

The annoying buzz of another mosquito hummed close. She slapped at the annoying critters, evidently getting bug remains on her flesh. She wiped off the spots, but the pests persisted. She had no clue what their next move would be. Their group was getting smaller, what with Hasky dead now too. She looked toward the Saiya-Jin, but he seemed to be thinking as well.

If it came down to it she would fight them. Things were getting too slow for her liking. This was a death tournament, not a picnic. She wanted to see some action.

[Krillin]

Krillin rubbed his eyes and picked out the nasty crusty things that kept building up in there. If he had saved all of the crap from the beginning of the competition to now, he probably could have made a very large cookie, with which he could seduce an enemy, gag him with it, and either flee or kill. Probably flee. Krillin was very good at fleeing. Most would call it cowardice, while the select few with funky accents would use the same word under a different pronunciation. Krillin didn't care. Dead heroes weren't worth much. Maybe a statue.

Twenty seemed to be holding what looked like a map with scribbles upon it. Upon a closer inspection, Krillin found that Twenty was holding a map with scribbles upon it.

"What's that?" Krillin asked.

"A map with scribbles on it."

"Obviously. Scribbles equal danger zones?"

"Yeah. New ones. Karl's not liking the speed."

"That sucks. Looks like a tiny little place now."

"Seems that way."

Conversation effectively ended there. Oh, both of them continued to talk about various frivolous things that would no doubt bore anyone burdened with an attention span smaller than a medium-sized planet. For that reason, every bit of that conversation will be detailed here.

"Got those nasties in my eye," Krillin remarked.

"That crusty stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Gross. You've been doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah. Little gritty stuff. I think a bit of it got stuck in my sock."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm holding my sock, and it's got some of that crusty stuff in it."

"Oh. Well then, yeah."

"Ah, food?"

Twenty smiled. Krillin was always hungry.

"Yes. I found some berries. Scan came up clean. No poison in this batch."

"Sounds great. How do they taste?" Krillin asked.

"Very sweet. I had some myself."

Krillin bit into one. It tasted like shit.

"This tastes like shit."

"Maybe you got a bad one. Try this one."

Krillin bit into it. It tasted like shit too.

"This tastes like shit too."

Twenty shrugged. "Oh well. Guess you don't have good taste. I'm sure your provisions are still good?"

Krillin checked his bag. Thirty granola bars, a few packages of dried meat, and a handful jelly beans. Grinning, Krillin sat on a nearby rock, pulled out a jelly bean, and began to happily suck on it.

As Krillin smacked his lips around the sugary treat, all the worries of the competition seemed to melt away in the saliva blend. Jelly beans were good like that.

[Violet]

Life was a funny thing. You?re born, you grow, forming friendships and bonds as you transition into adulthood, where things deepen; relationships are formed, and trust becomes an all to rare commodity to find. Rarer, indeed, is those who will stick by your side no matter what.

When she was a little girl, there was nothing like the bond her and Neeko had. She and her pig tailed friend grew up together; the duo experiencing everything childhood had to offer.

The good times, like when they were twelve, and their fathers took them fishing out on Shady Lake; it was one of the only memories she still remembered that everything in life was going all too well for her.

Then?there was the bad; at fourteen, when high school was that fantastic dream of High School and boys, brought right into reach, she?d never forget how Neeko begged her not to join Red Ribbon.

It was only supposed to be a summer job?just carrying memo?s from one exec to another. Aiia, if she?d known then what she knew now, she would?ve listened to Neeko. But, as usual, it was too late.

The Band of Nine had been whittled to just three fanatical beings troving through the high grasses and rock that surrounded them for hundreds of acres. They had announced the new danger zones right after they left camp, and reliving their leader?s and clanmate?s deaths were nothing but unwanted memories. As long as the human had air in her lungs, she would take the images of their demise locked inside of her mind forever.

Violet sighed, feet beginning to feel heavier with each trudge through the rocky ground. ?Are we there yet??

The other majin answered with a low growl, eyes narrowing down at her; a few moments of feeling the cold glare bear daggers at her, he returned to his trek. She took that as a no, obviously. Huffing a grunt herself, she kept pace.

She knew somewhere out there, Minoshia was still breathing, still injured. A blast that tore Seventeen up, with the Konat RIGHT THERE, if anyone escaped from that alive, they would have to be seriously fucked up.

The debate now, was whether to go back herself and put him out of his misery, or leave him for the animals. Decisions, decisions?

Would she be so chastised enough that she would go back, kill the Konat herself, and skip off into the wilderness by herself? The thought rolled in her mind a few times, soaking up more of her melting will power.

No? she wouldn?t do it. He did something that was as close to blasphemy as he could get in her books. There was no forgiveness in that.

Even though his situation was akin to her own, she just couldn?t connect the two; her former leader was practically Satan himself, as compared to Seventeen, who seemed too articulate in his ways as to resort to malice against a fellow brother.

Minoshia had something to do with the child?s death, she knew it. In all the time she had known the dark prince, his internal fits had never reached the dizzying heights as it did just a few hours ago. It scared her.

Glancing back at Supes, who carried the smaller majin on his back, she managed a small smile. If she had chosen anyone to protect them, Super Buu had to be it. Underneath that exterior of pure, unadulterated asshole, was an honor, a dedication he had towards those who keep true to him.

Now, it was just him, her and Kid. Both of which could smash her outright for looking at them funny, and in the same breath, defend till the very end, that her hide be kept safe.

They neared a plateau, overlooking the valley. As their eyes scanned the horizon, a sinking feeling began in her gut.

?What?s next, captain??

[Kami]

The announcement was a dim reminder of the harsh cruelty which was Dante's Abyss. Damnit...he's trying to really pick up the pace on this. The old, hit and run strategy isn't going to cut it anymore. We won't have time to rest...it looks like we just had our last big rest. The Namek walked along in the now quieter group, as they were all trying their best to keep their wits about them in this hightened environment of tension.

The game had changed. His team was different, and he knew he would have to fight some of them eventually, but for the time being he was focused on keeping them all alive. They were all tired and most hurt. The strain of being on this god forsaken island for three days was taking it's toll.

Kami knew the worst was yet to come, for as the tournament combatants narrowed down the competition only become fiercer with stronger fighters wrestling for the top spot. There were still many fighters whom he had seen in the waiting rooms that he had not encountered on the battlefield. Some he assumed were already gone from the tournament, while others he expected to stare down in battle.

It was a good day to be an Ultra Namek.

[Minoshia]

The Konat grabbed the materials he would need to bandage up his leg as he slithered around on the dirty soil of the planet's surface. His fingers, what was left of them, dug deep into the loose grunge and dragged his body, his left leg pulling forward and helping push his body along. His right leg, along with his damaged foot, just kind of slugged along and enjoyed the ride.

Finding the material was easy; he rested the two sticks and the flexible bark next to him as he lay on his side. He slowly sat up, but kept his right leg outwards, adjacent to his body. His hands wrapped around his damaged ankle and lifted it onto an inclined rock. Lifting his palm above the foot, he shoved it down as hard as he could.

"Arrghh!!" He screamed through clenched teeth so it actually came out as a whisper, trying not to gather attention. "Fuckin' Christ..." The pain of forcing his ankle back into place was tremendous, the screwed up joint was more then a little out of place, and it almost seemed to the Konat that what he just did accomplished so little that it wasn't really worth it.

Ramming the two short thick sticks beside his ankle, he made sure the bottoms of the supports reached the body of his feet. Using one hand to hold the objects in place, he grabbed the tough and mobile bark and began to wrap it in a circular motion around his foot, transferring the wrap like a doctor onto the heel and halfway up his calf. He smiled at his handy work; he felt the added support to his foot. It still hurt to move it, but a significant amount less. As his fingers let go of the bark, it started to loosen however. The Dark prince leaned over and pulled a few green saplings from the ground, tearing off any attachments that might have been growing from them. He took the sharp rock he had found, and used to cut the sticks to the right length, and poked holes in the side of the bark, grimacing as he pushed too far and cut his leg. Then, he took the saplings and laced them through the holes, tying them together at the end and doing a make shift sewing job out of his bandage.

Grabbing the large, thin stick that he had also picked up during his travels, he pushed himself off the ground. Stumbling like a drunk at a bar, he finally managed to gain his balance, leaning on the makeshift crutch for support. With his body now capable of moving, he began to walk off into the forest, using the support. As he got further into the woods, he tried to wean his body off the crutch, trying to make it so eventually he could walk again without the stick for help.

[Bardock]

He?d seen it all before. It was nothing new to him.

She?d lost the will to live.

Bardock had seen it in Hasky?s eyes. She didn?t even fight back. She wasn?t fit to be in the game. She wasn?t even fit to call herself a warrior. No one seemed to understand that. To him, he was doing her a favor, putting her out of her misery and getting her out of his hair once and for all. It was mercy, not murder.

Selipa was first. The pistol was aimed dead between his eyes, but she couldn?t do it. Once eager for a fight, Bardock now saw the female to be a complete mockery of the saiya-jin race. To dare call herself one was blasphemy. She spat words of loathing while choking him. He felt no fear; he felt no pain. Bardock didn?t even resist. It was only natural for those that didn?t understand to act this way.

Bra was next. Her fist drove forth with unflinching might into his gut. Before his body even had the chance to double over, the hybrid was at it again with a follow-up to his chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him soaring through a tree. The girl was relentless, picking him back up only to beat his face in. Each punch sent his head snapping in a different direction as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.

The final kick sent him packing into the air, and he dropped unceremoniously into a heap. Bardock coughed, waiting for the next attack. But it never came. Slowly, he got to his knees, feeling the bruises swelling. When he managed to stand on his own two feet, he glanced over at Bra. Raditzu was giving her a stern talking to. Bardock grimaced.

He stood tall, pride burning in his eyes. He strode back into camp. If they were supposed to beat a lesson into him, it didn?t work. Bardock found the only person not involved in the scuffle, and stared at the android.

?What about you?? he growled at Eighteen, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva and wiping his mouth. ?You wanna take a swing at me too??

Without even waiting for a response, he looked away in disgust, glaring in Bra and Selipa?s direction. ?Go ahead and think that you?re better than me. I know you do. Go ahead and think that you?re self-righteous avengers. I don?t give a fuck. You don?t know shit about me. YOU DON?T KNOW ANYTHING!? he roared, breathing heavily. Anger masked anything else that could have been interpreted from it.

Those who weren?t strong enough to survive didn?t. It was that simple. As hard as it was to accept the deaths of Kakarotto, Gohan, and Goten?they had perished accordingly to this code. Bardock was more than willing to share into this principle. He was still strong enough, and when that strength failed, he would receive punishment?but not a moment sooner. The saiyan wasn?t giving up, was not giving in. He had done nothing wrong.

He stalked off, moving away from the general party. Not long after, Raditzu approached him.

?Did you not hear a thing I said earlier?? he asked. ?That wasn?t exactly the brightest idea, Pops.?

Bardock reached a hand out, grabbed his son?s shoulder, and squeezed, saying all he needed to say without words, and refused to give anything more.

[Banned Dana]

After a short feast, the entire team let out a short sigh of relief, though the pig wasn?t large, it was meat, something they all seemed to be craving nowadays, everyone that is, except for Kami. The elder Namekian had been standing back, sipping on his water bottle and giving disgusted looks here and there as the four men tore away at the small animal. What would normally have taken hours to eat, took mere minutes as the alliance dug their fingers into the steaming meat and forced the moist sustenance into their mouths.

Gulping down the remaining bit of his second water bottle, Thirteen smiled as he wiped his face with his arm. Taking a moment to allow the food to settle, the droid could feel that his power had almost completely returned to him, in fact, if he survive the next few hours, he would be back to one-hundred percent energy, though the pain seemed far from ending.

Laying back against the soft grass, the machine-hybrid heard a soft buzzing noise, an announcement was about to be made. Propping himself up on his elbow and looking around, the voice of Karl Jak came booming over the loud speakers.

"Good afternoon, everybody! I'm sure you all heard the huge explosion earlier. Turns out one of the weapons gave quite a bang, eh?

Thirteen allowed the announcers voice to fade from his mind, what kind of weapon could have produced such a massive blast? Some how, the droid knew that the answer lay around his butterscotch neck. A feeling of fear and resentment washed over him as he placed a finger on the hot metal. Why had he allowed them to place this thing around his neck?

?The rule is simple. If someone isn't dead every 12 hours (48 OOC hours), everyone loses. In other words, if we go, at any time, 12 hours without a death, it's over. That's a lot of people dead. So...let's make sure we keep things moving, eh?

Good luck, everyone!"

?The bastard!? shouted Thirteen, standing up from his prone position. ?That?ll give us no time to rest in between fights, meaning that someone will probably luck out and jump us from behind while we?re tired!?

?No shit.? replied Reijin. ?It?s for weaklings like you that wine and cry about no rest. If you were worth of winning this competition you wouldn?t need rest, now would you, but then again, you?re only a droid, what would you know??

The anger had begun to build within the machine-hybrid.

?You son of a...? shouted Thirteen, taking a few steps towards the Sayajin, but was cut off by Trunks, who was simply holding his hand straight outright.

?You have two choices.? Trunks softly spoke. ?You can either come with us and work with us to survive, or you can leave now and prey that no one picks you off, the choice is yours, but I would highly suggest putting your anger on check. Reijin can be a dick, but he?s a strong asset and believe you me, you?re not the only one that would like to hit him.?

Reijin chuckled as he heard Trunks? comment. Turning from the android, the Sayajin sat down on a rock and muttered something under his breath. Seething, Thirteen did his best to just back off, which wasn?t exactly easy for him.

Sitting a few yards away from the group and slamming his fist into the ground, the android had noticed that his condition had improved drastically and with it, a slight increase in his power, perhaps these games weren?t all that bad for his health after all, but then again, maybe it was.

[Super Buu]

Gradually, Buu? anger following the aftermath of Seventeen?s death had simmered down. He was still bubbling inside, but on the surface he simply looked agitated. It didn?t reflect the rage that lay dormant within, however, ready to burst at any moment.

?Good afternoon, everybody!? came the now-familiar voice of Karl, resonating across the island. ?I'm sure you all heard the huge explosion earlier. Turns out one of the weapons gave quite a bang, eh?

Here are the fallen warriors:

#02 Goku Jr
#04 Hasky
#13 Android 17

Now, the danger zones ??

Buu didn?t hear the rest of the announcement. The pores on his head began to whistle, and just like that, steam began to pour out. He roared aloud; ?what about Minoshia!??

No answer. The speech carried on, uninterrupted. ?The rule is simple. If someone isn't dead every 12 hours ??

The rubbery monster paced, his red eyes ready to burn holes in the next person to look at him. He spoke, seemingly to himself. ?His name didn?t come up! That must mean he survived! I don?t believe it ? MINOSHIA!?

The rage had returned full force. Kid Buu, who had settled in his brother?s backpack, began to grumble weakly against the agitated movement. With only one leg, he found it difficult to jump out, and with no voice to complain with, he was stuck with shrill shrieks to get the point across. The younger-looking majin?s plight was a perfect metaphor for the disconnected mess that his taller counterpart?s mind was becoming. Super Buu should have felt sadness, remorse at the loss of his friends. Instead he only felt anger towards the one who had taken their lives. Throwing his bag to the ground - brother and all - the majin began to rifle through the contents.

?Minoshia is alive?? Violet seemed in disbelief herself. If anyone could have lived through that blast, then the state they must be in would be worse than death. Then she turned to her companion, face mingled with curiosity and concern. ?What are you doing??

?I?m going to find Minoshia, and kill him.?

The girl looked confused. ?How??

As if to answer her question, Super emerged with what seemed to be a PDA. He clicked the switch into the ?on? position and began to stare at its screen intently, twiddling with the dials on the side. Several dots seemed to be marked around a perfect replica of the map, marking all the locations of the remaining fighters. He stood up, shouldered his pack and began to walk. Words were for humans.

[Minoshia]

The words of Karl Jak?s mouth echoed in his mind, it would have been better for him if the announcer mistook him for dead. Now they all knew he had survived, and the chance that they would come back for him was better then ever. He would be ready, he wouldn?t be able to fight at the level he could have previously, mainly due to his foot, so he would get to work building numerous items, fortifying his stronghold.

Now that The Konat had the new map in hand, he knew which sides he had to cover. Luckily, he had fortified a position that wasn?t too difficult to defend. The prince began to move around, using his incredibly fortitude and determination to bulldoze his body forward, through the ridiculous injuries his body had sustained. He doubted if years ago, even months ago, he would have the mental ability to ignore the pain and push his body past the setbacks that he had been forced to experience. His brother dying, his body being demolished, his friends trying to kill him. He wanted to face them, he wanted to face them all and ask them what they would do. What that fuck would they do if their brother died and there were four men standing around his corpse, with no one else there to do the deed. They would have all done the same thing. Fuckin? Hypocrites.

It was the first time he looked at what he had done in this aspect, his face glowing with pride. He let himself bask in the glory of what he had done. Fuck them all for not seeing his reasoning, Let them come. He would be ready.

The Konat looked out at the tree formations before him. The gateway to his stronghold would definitely be the rock; any way they came they would have to get to him through the rock. There were numerous amounts of trees, very close in proximity to each other, surrounding the rock and the surrounding areas. His boundary had to be small, had to be tight enough for one man to defend. Five small energy balls charged at each finger of his right hand, and three small energy balls formed at each finder that remained on his left hand. The weak bolts shot into the basins of the eight trees in the center of what the Konat had chosen as his perimeter. The timbering oaks began to tilt, falling in every direction. Minoshia watched them, before diving behind the rock. There was no need to risk safety, especially when the attacker was a bunch of falling trees.

What was left was the rock formation in the front, and several trees wrapping in a circular perimeter, starting at the rock and creating the walls, wrapping backwards and behind Minoshia. Grabbing the fallen trees, he began to drag them, laying the first one horizontally between the stone and the first tree, and the second from the first tree to the second. Cutting most of the logs in half, stacking them on top of each other and using the saplings to hold each other in place, soon his fort was beginning to take shape.

Collapsing in pain, Minoshia grabbed his limp foot and slid his way over to the rock, leaning his back against it and looking at his handy work. He had managed to build a circular wall, around five feet in height. He could see over the wall, but not by a lot. Reaching into the bag he had left on the ground, the prince grabbed the loaf of bread and ate the rest of it, washing it down with one swig of water. He would have to find more food for dinner, more then likely something small, like a squirrel.

After resting for quite a long time, The Konat stood up and put his buttocks on the rock, slinging his legs over the side of it so he was facing the other side. Reaching back he grabbed his crutch and began walking forwards into the woods. Five feet away from his camp, he knelt softly on the ground, pressing his hand so the side of his palm was the vertical segment of a ninety-degree angle formed with the ground. The energy glowed in his hand slowly, before rocketing off, skidding across the ground in a long Ki Beam before it struck a tree. As the smoke cleared, Minoshia saw his first trench. That?ll slow ?em down.

The Prince smiled as he went off in *his* forest, walking around in close proximity to the fort, using his energy to make more trenches, and pitfalls. Covering the pitfalls with twigs and leaves, hoping his attacks would fall through and he would be able to shoot them down from his stronghold.

After his traps were built, the Dark Prince simply crutched back to his fort, hopping over the rock he landed on the other side. He muffled his screams with his mouth, landing on his foot and watching it wiggle in tremendous pain, the bandage held strong however, and he didn?t collapse. It was the first sign of victory he had seen in this battle against his body. He was renewed with confidence.

?Let those fuckers come, let ?em all come.? His eyes glowed with more hate then he had felt in a long time, his rage had fully awakened. He felt like it was time for a kill. Images of his brother flashed in his find, imagining all the different ways those awful people could have killed him, slicing his throat. They called him a coward because he poisoned a member; they slit his brother?s throat! They were the Fuckin? cowards. Minoshia growled, turning to face the rock, peering out into the forest and watching.

[Orion]

Geez, it feels weird with just one earring on, Trunks thought to himself. A single Pottara earring hung from his left ear, making his right lobe feel bare.

*Bang!*

A single bolt of energy rocketed through the sky, taking off into the silky clouds with no target in mind. Again, another orb flew aimlessly upwards. Kami looked behind him to see what was causing it. He saw Trunks, ki rifle in hand. The halfling was crouching on the ground, performing barrel rolls and side steps while targeting an invisible army surrounding him.

"Trunks," Kami said near laugh, gaining the prince's attention, "what are you doing?"

Trunks stood upright and continued to walk. "I'm getting a feel for this thing." He pushed the weapon upwards slightly, referring to it. "If I can avoid using Super Saiyan, at least for a little while, I will. Feeling that tired after using it won't help our long term survival chances. I'd rather shoot an enemy down with this--" Trunks aimed at a nearby tree, pressing the trigger and removing it from its trunk, "--than have to transform."

The elder Namekian chuckled. "Whatever floats your boat, kid."

Reijin walked besides his king, a distasteful countenance watching the saiyan prince begin his 'training exercises' behind them.

"Can you see what your son is doing?" Reijin questioned. "He's acting like a damn fool."

Vegeta murmured. "Leave him be."

"He's supposed to be a fighter, not a gun toting amateur. You should disapprove of his battle preparation."

"No need," Vegeta replied, still facing front. "Trunks is a well rounded fighter. You may view him as a child, but in reality," the king looked at Reijin, smirking, "I'm sure he'd give you a run for your money." Vegeta ended his facial gesture. "At any rate, I don't want to hear any more on the subject."

Suddenly, a ki blast whizzed by Vegeta's head, causing his eyes to bulge outwards. He spun around, facing his embarrassed son holding a rifle with a smoking barrel.

"Heh, sorry," Trunks apologised, standing to his feet. "I'll stop."

Reijin gave his king a cheeky look, but neither said anything.

"He can still fight," Vegeta replied, reinforcing his unspoken position.

Trunks walked by Thirteen once again, deciding to engage in their earlier conversation for the time being.

"So, how's your gut feeling?" Trunks asked eloquently, motioning to the wound with his rifle.

[Violet]

She could smell the death before her eyes could make sense of the large lump in the path ahead. It was a body, a large, white body, blood caking around the wound that used to be his neck. That heavy feeling yanked on her harder, eyes scanning over the fallen warrior, bits and pieces of memories came rushing back.

Kneeling next to the dead man, her fingers flittered over his pallid face. The rubbery skin was cold, and for some reason, he hadn?t even begun to decompose. Fresh kill, she thought. The blood was dried for the most part, but a body in this state, it wasn?t no more than a day, perhaps, since he had been killed.

?What are you doing, fleshbag?? Super Buu growled from behind her, irritated. It seemed like the human was becoming more and more like the rest of her species every day. He?d been wrong before, but not that he?d admit it to anyone. ?Leave that body alone.?

She shook her head, but her gaze never left the man?s face. Recognition shown in her azure depths, as finally the name whispered through her head.

?Yamu??

She realized he was yelling up at her again and refocused on the vein draped fighter. ?Today is your lucky day, Purple. Because I like you so much, and only that, I?m going to give you a little fighting lesson.?

?You think you have something to teach me? I?ll shove your lesson down your throat!?

Yamu?s bothersome smile only grew bigger at her response, a most infuriating reply to the black-clad girl.

The bald gladiator took to the air and the two danced a deadly tango. A dizzying mix of attacks, counter attacks, punches, and kicks. The Pitch Black fighter became increasingly impressed with the spirit of the Civil Unrest combatant. Her attacks formed a seamless combination that Yamu could not seem to throw off. He blocked high, her fist veered low, his leg came from under, she hammered two fists in from above. Violet?s hyper focused awareness would have to be de-railed and Yamu was well versed in distraction.

?Today is the day you get your geography lesson. In any battle scenario the landscape is the permanent X-factor.? Despite her best efforts the purple haired vixen found herself slipping as she honed in on Yamu?s lecturing tone. A punch went to wild costing her a shot in the ribs. Her counter was too sloppy and Yamu broke through, bloodying her lip. It only grew worse as he continued. ?The best of fighters use the unique circumstances given to them as an advantage, the do not seek to battle identically in every setting but to use these variations to their advantage.? Her attention slipping, Violet could feel herself being pushed through the air as if Yamu was putting her into a certain location, but she was too focused on his words and blows and her brain could not comprehend the next step. What was in front of her was far too pressing. ?In most tournaments the ?ring out? clause keeps fighters within invisible walls but with a cage the definite walls give definite restrictions to movement.?

Clang.

Violet swiveled her head and saw in horror that she had been backed into the top corner of the cage. She spun her neck back to see a glowing palm staring back at her. ?Lesson one Violet: Always know where you are fighting.?

For that brief battle, they had formed something, a bond of sorts. Whether it was respect or lust, she couldn?t tell, but seeing this hulk, his throat torn away, exposing things that were never meant to be seen by human eyes, she realized he must have fallen to some folly of his own. He didn?t remember.

She promised herself when she left this abomination of a game, she?d look for Yamu again, and teach him a lesson or two in return. That is, if he survived. His body may be here on the battlefield, but her understanding was that the defeated were taken back to base, and released. At least, she hoped so. Perhaps Seventeen and that kid would be there, too, waiting for them.

?What are you ragging about now?? Buu whined.

She closed the warriors half opened eyes, and said a few words of respect over the body before getting back to her feet to face her new problem: the Buus.

When would they turn on her? All it would take is for one of them to distract her while the other slit her throat, or some other clever vice. Would she be ready to take them down if it came to it? Perhaps. Not all at once, though. She doubted she would be capable of taking down the bigger of the two majins, but if push came to shove, she?d go down in flaming glory. No sneaky ploys, no diversions. Straight up fighting.

It suddenly became her aspiration to have the final battle between herself and the Buu?s. Yes, when the rest of the remaining fighters have been eliminated, it would just be them, and the fight of a lifetime.

?I just realized something, Buu;? she began, a sly smirk lifting the corners of her mouth.

His head cocked to the side, scrutinizing her. ?Oh? And what is that??

?How much longer will it be until you finally decide to kill me??

[Banned Dana]

"So, how's your gut feeling?" Trunks asked eloquently, motioning to the wound with his rifle.

Placing his finger tip on the barrel of the rifle and aiming it away from his abdomen, Thirteen smiled.

?It?s better, much better.? the droid stretched to prove his words. ?Just a little bit longer and I?ll be fully recovered, with a dull pain of course, I don?t think anything could fully rid me of this pain.

Trunks gave a subtle laugh, he could sympathize with the droid, he too had a minor wound. Glancing over at his Sayajin ally, Thirteen noticed that something was on his mind, it probably had something to do with these new rules and they were the last thing the droid wanted to think about. Finally, he stood and bent backwards, popping his back.

?Alrighty then!? shouted Thirteen, startling everyone in the group. ?Man, I feel better.?

Sitting back down, he noticed Trunks with the same look on his face. He seemed interested in his ki rifle, it?s long smooth barrel, the side-shanked trigger, the intricate details, it really was a thing of beauty. Thirteen smiled, it had been a long time since he?d seen a weapon like that, though his smile seemed duller than ever, there was just too much on his mind.

?So what?s on your mind?? asked the fused Sayajin, noticing that something was wrong with the android.

?Unless we kill someone, we?re all goners.? shot the droid. ?It?s all just a waste unless someone dies. I would love to win this game, you know? But now, it looks as if we?re going to have to end our journey soon.?

?You don?t think that we?ll survive this?? questioned the young Sayajin with a concerned look on his face.

?No no. I just find it difficult to fathom that we?ll have a chance within the next few hours to find us a group that we?ll be able to completely rid ourselves of, I?m afraid that the fighting may turn inward.?

Trunks caught on, Thirteen meant inter-alliance squalling.

?Nah.? replied the Sayajin with a smile. ?We may be hot headed, but we?re not stupid, we?ll find some others to rough up, don?t you worry.?

?Sure.? smiled Thirteen. ?I guess.?

He was beginning to sound like a little kid. Standing up and glancing around the scattered group, Thirteen realized that if someone wasn?t killed, they would probably have to fight it out to the death, to give themselves a better chance at winning this game. These games were evil and this new set of rules only darkened the depths for which they were to sink. He would have to fight, soon or die. There was no in between anymore, no more resting, he had to do what must be done to ensure his own survival, but the question that remained was, could he kill his friends?

Deep down inside, the droid knew that he wouldn?t have a problem doing it, so long as his CPU was in charge at the time, but with his newly awaken memories of his past, he was finding it difficult to believe that someone with his skills and profession would become a master of death and destruction. He was a healer, a doctor in his past life and now, he was a professor of murder, bent on one thing and one thing only, his own survival.

[Burter Jr]

Face to Face

Bardock and Selipa

Bardock causually walked through a field, taking a refreshing hike away from his group. He was hoping to find someone, anyone, to let out all that agression that had been building up. But, as usual, things were looking boring.

The saiyan was hungry, tired, and bored. Oh...and grumpy.

Dante's Abyss had really shown out his true colors. While Bardock didn't nessecarily see himself as a bad guy, he wasn't going to pussyfoot around his own morals. The strong survive, the weak die. There was no way around it. That's the way life worked and it was an honorable motto to live by.

"I told you I'd find you, old man." Bardock whirled around, shotgun in hand. He held it out with one hand, a serious look sketched on his face.

The girl who had claimed to be a saiyan stood right in front of him, only about five feet between them. Filling up the space were two guns, her outstretched pistol and his shotgun. The two barrells were touching each other.

Selipa had a fire in her eyes that made Bardock's twitch. "Good to see you show at least a little bit of saiyan attitude," the man spat, "You had me worried."

"Don't stop worrying yet," Selipa kept a good grip on the handle. "Just because I'm not a hateful bastard like you doesn't make me any less saiyan." She cocked the gun with one hand, keeping it up. "This is for Yamu and Hasky."

The pose kept up. One of them was going to have make the first move.

Selipa kicked the shotgun to the side, out of Bar's hands. The male saiyan spun around, using his elbow to knock the pistol from her grip, sending it next to the shotgun. The slender woman jabbed her wrist into Bardock's face, crushing his nose, and then chopped him on the neck.

When Bardock hit the ground, he rolled right back to his feet. Sel tried to charge, but his elbow collided with her tight belly, and then his fist shot upwards to catch her in the nose. Using his head, he knocked her backwards, onto her ass.

"Get a clue," Bar growled, "You're a disgrace to your race."

Selipa stumbled up. When she looked up, she revealed blood pouring from her face just like Bardock's. She appeared to be having trouble seeing after being punched in the eye. "You have no idea," she clenched her fists, eyes burning with rage. "the things I have done for the saiyan race!"

"Wha--?" Was all Bardock could manage.

His worst nightmare was coming true. Gold was surrounding Selipa's body. Her hair was starting to brighten and float, while her eyes froze into an icy tone. He could handle it when his sons surpassed him, and even his grandchildren. But to watch this woman, blinded by her own emotions, turning into what was supposed to be a sacred saiyan transformation...well, he lost it.

"NO!" Bardock lept forward. He scooped up the pistol she had dropped and ran, full speed at her. "Not you! Anyone but you!"

It was too late. Selipa was breathing deeper as her true form showed itself. She was a Super Saiyan, proving once and for all she was worthy of bearing that blood with pride.

"HA!" Bardock's fist shot at her, but she easily turned her head to dodge it.

She raised a knee, catapulting it right above Bardock's crotch area. "Never let it be said, ever again," she whispered as her lips her so close to his ear. "That I don't love the saiyan race."

It was a strange feeling. Bardock flew backwards, the shots he was firing on the pistol missing completely. For a moment, even if he absolutely hated the way Selipa handled herself, he had to respect her. Not as a person, but as a saiyan.

You see, Bardock was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. He didn't fool himself into thinking he was better then someone, or that someone else was a pushover. He saw it first hand. He saw Selipa's rage. The saiyan rage that he had personally unleashed.

With that in mind, it clicked. His heard beat faster. His eyes narrow.

"I was wrong about you, Selipa," he spoke. But Sel was focused on his body, like the way his hair began to float. "You are saiyan, without a doubt. It's in your blood. You crave this fight just like I do. But regardless, Selipa...you are still, to me, just another girl who's in over her head. Just...like...Hasky."

It was the first time he had actually spoken the human girl's name. Selipa crouched, realizing what was happening.

Super Saiyan Selipa lept forward.

Super Saiyan Bardock fired the pistol.

Even with the ki shot blasting into one of her breasts, peircing her heart, she kept going as long as it struggled to pump blood. Bardock's golden aura meshed with her's. The two fists clashed angrily in the sunlight. This man killed her friends, and he didn't even care. How could he...?

Her mid-fight thoughts were interupted by a blast of the pistol hitting the side of her head. The left side was a clean wound, but when the shot left her right side, the head blasted open and blood flew everywhere. She fell to the side with a loud grunt.

Somehow, someway, she was still breathing. She rolled onto her back, getting one last look at him.

Bardock had the pistol pointed at her. She couldn't help but laugh. His golden hair was floating as if in a breeze that didn't exist. His teal eyes peirced her.

She wasn't looking as smooth. One of her eyes were dangling from her once-pretty face. She had a huge gaping hole in the side of her head where peices of her skull were shattered. Her brain appeared to be losing small little traces of grey liquid as it strugged to function.

"Tell me, Bardock..." her lips moved on their own. A whisper. "How can you care so much...but trust so little?"

The newly formed super saiyan didn't even have to fire again. Selipa died, right there.

His body betrayed him. He didn't want it to happen, but it did. Looking at the beautiful woman who died fighting for what she believed in. Dying for it. A true saiyan. Someone he was proud to call a fellow warrior.

Bardock shed a single tear for another saiyan dead.

#28 Selipa DEAD

15 Fighters Remaining

The medical kit and the ki pistol are there for Bardock to take.

Bardock has a broken nose.

Bardock has earned Super Saiyan, and will be tired for 24 OOC hours

[Belle Hibiki]

Exhausted, Buu's sleep was thankfully dreamless, deep, and all encompassing. He was not bothered by the occasional jostlings of Super Buu as he was carted around, although his anger at his older counterpart simmered just below ths urface, reawakened in the aftermath of... Of whatever had happened to him.

"What's next, captain?" Violet asked, her voice muffled.

He could only guess that his old self, his true self, had risen to the task. Minoshia's betrayal had demanded murder, and only the majin in Buu could dole it out as swiftly as he needed. It was also possible that the power inside of him had overloaded the comparatively weak bonds inside him, the ones that kept the director attached to his chakras and his brain.

He didn't get much time for reflection in the sleepy state between dreaming and waking before Supes' roar broke through his grogginess like a bomb going off.

?His name didn?t come up! That must mean he survived! I don?t believe it ? MINOSHIA!?

All of a sudden Buu felt himself being lifted up and then, just as abruptly, hurled to the ground with the pack. He landed again on his injured stump as he rolled out from the impact point, and he let out a short yelp of pain as he gripped it, seething in pain and fury as he looked up at the unfolding scene before him.

Super Buu stood against the backdrop of the fading afternoon light, the powerful rays of a dying sun painting him in violent shades of fire and darkness. His head hung bowed over the small electronic device, his eyes intent like the child had never seen before, with Violet standing near him. They had started out as so many...

The shadows seemed to stretch before his eyes, and the pain in his injury faded slowly away. Lonely, stretched thin, their shades mourned their losses even if they did not, and grew with every passing moment, matching the darkness in their hearts. The moment of clarity faded, but left it's impression on him. More than anything else, they couldn't afford to be reduced even more.

"I'm going to find Minoshia, and kill him," Super Buu said fiercely, turning around and beginning to walk away, intent on completing his stated goal.

A small hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he growled before turning around, his eyes blazing. "What the Hell do you-?!" He was cut off as Kid Buu slammed his open palm across the taller majin's cheek with the force of a charging bull, a sharp WHOMP filling the clearing as the child's hand imprinted a deep imprint of itself on Supes' face. The older majin stumbled, surprised at the sudden violence, and opened his mouth to yell again, this time angrier. Before he could, another heavy slap slammed across his features. "What-?!" He managed to get out. "Is your problem?! I'll kill you!"

Kid Buu 'stood' - lower arms in the dirt - with one upper hand raised, as if waiting for his younger brother to make another move before delivering another stinging slap. He paused, lowered the limb, and pointed at Super with an accusing glare. He couldn't communicate with the fool, he thought to himself, but he could at least try. "Neh!"

"... What?"

Kibbles pointed at Super Buu again, stabbing his finger forward before turning on Violet, equally forceful in his finger-jerking with his other hand. Both hands spread out, each pointing at his allies, he brought his hands together and laced his pudgy fingers, cinching them close and balling them into a tight two-handed fist. "Heh!"

Super Buu scowled and looked at Violet, who looked just as puzzled back.

Quelling his growing irritation, he tried another tact. He lifted up nine fingers, presented them to the duo, and slowly began ticking them off, some more viciously than the others, until there were only three solitary digits left. He twisted them together. We need to stay together, he seemed to be saying. He glared at Super Buu particularly hard... Because he, more than anyone else, had the potential to reverse there terrible situation.

[Super Buu]

Responsibility. Buu hated it. The only thing you could depend on him to do was let you down. Never in his life had he been accountable for anyone but himself, and that was the way he liked it. After all, he was immortal! Until this infernal game, he had never had to worry about losing limbs, or taking injuries. If there was one ideal he?d picked up in all his years, it was that everything was reversible. He would find a way to put right the wrongs, to get what he wanted. There was always a way. Things were simple. Up until now, Buu had always agreed with his own decisions. There was no dispute.

But now, he was conflicted. Somehow, by some inexplicable chance, he had become ? responsible for his group. He hadn?t asked for that responsibility, he had simply been given it. Buu wanted, more than anything else, to discard it and become accountable only for himself. But now, another voice was in his head. What he thought he should do and what he did do were no longer one and the same.

And now, he was posed a question.

?How much longer will it be until you finally decide to kill me??

Buu snarled, his anger at breaking point. He lashed out with a hand, just barely missing the face of his companion. ?Shut the fuck up!? he snapped. ?I don?t need to justify myself to you!? His reply hadn?t even answered the question posed - it was as if he was listening to someone other than Violet. He looked away, then looked back again, adding; ?I?ve come with you this far, and I intend to carry on through to the end. If you make it that far, then I?ll kill you. Or I can do it now and finally get some peace!? He suddenly raised his voice to a shout. ?YOUR CHOICE!?

The girl just stood back in shock. She hadn?t been expecting such an angry outburst. She wanted to ask what was wrong, whether he was still upset about the deaths of his friends, but thought better of it. Knowing Buu, trying to talk to him would just fuel his anger. So she just frowned, and remained silent.

?You know,? the majin continued, ?I never joined this competition to play babysitter for anyone else. I?m only doing this because I know there are stronger fighters out there, undoubtedly banding together for protection.? He spat out the last word distastefully. ?So I?m forced into this scenario. Just know that, as soon as I can, I will get out of it.? He looked up at the sky suddenly, as if realising that they were being watched - filmed.

?Soon, you will all know my wrath.?

[Bardock]

Bardock?s body gave an involuntary shudder as he dropped to his knees, the golden aura fading to nothing. His adrenaline rush had come to an unprecedented high, and then took a frightening nosedive. The proud saiyan shook, his throat emitting quivering gasping sounds. He was so?tired. It was almost a withdrawal from the surge of power that his Super Saiyan transformation induced.

The fighter stared, almost in shock at the body that lay before him. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He had misjudged her, but she was still destined to die. Even so, she left the battlefield honorably.

Get up? his mind urged. Get up?

Bardock had to keep going. He couldn?t stop now.

The bronze bruiser forced his body to stand, and he winced as a wave of pain seized his battered mass. The wince only served to further cause discomfort, as a fresh spout of blood trickled down his face. Bar?s nose was broken.

He dragged himself over to Selipa?s lifeless corpse, stooping low to grab the medical kit he had seen her use on Hasky. It was a priceless commodity, and someone was going to need it sooner or later. The shotgun was nearby, and he slung it over his shoulder, pistol in one hand and healing supplies in the other.

Then, he performed a ritual worthy of the fallen fighter. He let the two items rest on the ground and yanked off the bandana around his forehead. With great care not to disturb her final resting position, Bardock wiped the blood from the female saiyan?s face, the crimson stain absorbing into the cloth to join that of those before her. When the deed was done, he weakly tied it back on, and picked up his spoils.

His respects were paid.

With that, Bardock hiked back to the campsite, unsure of how his allies were going to take this little bit of news. What kept him standing, what kept one foot in front of the other, he didn?t know. Sheer iron will had gotten him this far. Even though his stride was clumsy and weak, stride he did. His chin never dropped to his chest.

Time passed slowly as he trekked back, his mind still alight with the fire that burned during battle. His fists were clean, and his anger shed. The ape staggered into the group?s rest spot, holding himself high. Five was now whittled down to four, both kills under his belt.

Bar found a tree to lean against, his chest heaving. He was weak, and weakness meant vulnerability. The battler was in no condition to defend himself. It was a risk he was willing to take.

Three others looked on, glancing meaningfully at the pistol and kit, understanding what it meant.

Bardock?s bloodstained visage was chiseled from rock. A fierce glint rekindled against his black pools. He wore his wound, a testament to Selipa?s ferocity and his resilience.

He wouldn?t be downed.

After all, he was still in the game.

With a lazy swing of his arm, he tossed the medical kit in the center of the gathering, and aimed his gaze off into the distance.


OOC: The med kit belongs to whoever picks it up.