Day Three: Evening

[Burter]

Day Three
6:00 PM - Midnight

"You're all just going around in a circles, folks! You're all near people but can't actually get close! Come on, pick up the pace! Only one fell the last six hours:

#22 Sazuaa

And now, it's time to announce the new forbidden zones! These zones will be activated in six hours! If you're in one of these spots at noon...BOOM! Hehe!

C6

That's it! Good luck, all!

This is Karl, over and out!"


Notes:

-I'm going to sleep. Hence this up early. Don't post in here till midnight. Don't PM moves till midnight.

-I'd like a staff member to create the discussion thread and unsticky the last IC thread at midnight. Only a staffer.

-Good night.

[Android 17]

Super Buu had wandered off into a nearby grove in search of more materials with which to build a better crutch. The android knew he should have gone with the crippled monster, but Seventeen had to deal with some of his own situations before he could schism his concentration wit the affairs of others. With a feeble grunt, the machine-hybrid fell to his knees and glared at the tree that loomed over his matted, unkempt head of hair.

If the cyborg wanted to survive, then he would have to find some means of quelling the blood lose. Because even though quite a bit of it had stopped, Seventeen was still hemorrhaging a fatal amount of the fluid. With a childlike whimper, the android placed his mangled right hand on the trunk of the tree. Staring up at the branches and leaves suspended several feet in the air, the raven-haired warrior crafted ki saber in his left hand.

Whipping his arm around with all the might he could garner, the cybernetic warrior clenched his reddened eyes shut and tightened his grip on the energy-based weapon as he pulled it through the trunk of his target. After a few minutes, the android opened his eyes and realized that he had failed to slice through the entire width of the tree. The realization that a weapon that could easily rend flesh had been conquered by wood trigged fresh waves of misery and woe to cascade through the android?s weary form.

Letting the weapon diffuse into nothingness, the machine-hybrid retracted his hand and crafted an uncharacteristically unstable sphere of energy in his palm. Feigning a look of strength and determination, Seventeen chucked the call at the wound he had created in the tree and closed his eyes as the resulting explosion brought the entire plant to the ground.

?Yippee-ki-yay,? the cyborg mumbled as gritted his teeth together and pushed off the ground with the aid of the cane. Stumbling awkwardly, the android made his way across the fallen carcass until he arrived at the first series of branches. Falling once again to his knees, Seventeen began to fervently tear off the leaves. Once he had amassed a considerable pile, the cybernetic warrior tore the tattered remains of his stolen t-shirt off his body.

After crumpling the shirt up into a ball, the android reached into his survival bag and pulled out a leather-covered canteen. With a swift motion, Seventeen yanked off the stopper with his teeth and poured the contents onto the haphazard sphere of fabric. Once the container was empty, the machine-hybrid placed it in his mouth and bit down on the leather cover. Lifting the ball o? shirt up to his face, the corners of the android?s preoccupied mouth curled downward as he closed his eyes.

The things people do to survive? The machine-hybrid pondered as he tightened his grip on the cloth sphere. Then, the android grabbed the ball with his other hand as well and lifted it above his head. After another beat, Seventeen plunged the damp ball of fabric right into the grotesque wound in his abdomen.

The moment the shirt pushed through the hole, the android?s body shuddered, and he bit down on the canteen so hard that his teeth punctured down through the metal. Even as his teeth shattered from the pressure caused by the pain, Seventeen continued to push the shirt through the wound until it had filled the space completely.

Once the cloth was protruding out through the back of his penetrated abdomen, the android opened his eyes and spat out the ruined canteen. For a few moments, the machine-hybrid simply stared at the amalgamation of blood, spit, and teeth that had saturated the container. He then realized that there was a price to pay for survival, and he had just owned up to a little more of that cost.

Acting quickly and erratically, the android plucked up the oversized leaves and began to place them over both sides of the wound. Although the first few leaves managed to stick to his skin because of all the blood, Seventeen soon began to realize that he needed additional adhesive if he planned to have a somewhat effective bandage. Scoping out his surroundings, the android?s eyes eventually came to rest on the cane that Super Buu had forged for him.

?Desperate times,? Seventeen uttered incoherently?reaching out toward the cane with outstretched fingers and staring intently as it broke down into a liquid form. With a flick of his wrist, the raven-haired warrior summoned the fluid to him, and a moment later, he began to use it as an adhesive. Fresh screams filled the forest as steam began to billow up from the android?s rapidly charring flesh.

Despite the pain, the crude ore was successful in melding with the fabric, leaves, and Seventeen's flesh to end the bleeding and cover the wound. It sure as hell wasn?t the healthiest or most professional means to deal with injuries, but when one is thrown into the mouth of hell, he has to make due or die?and Seventeen for one was not ready to end his camping trip in the abyss.

[Orion]

The sun completed its arch over the plains of Dante's Abyss for the third time, stealing away the daylight as it sunk. Through the shaded skies the stars' brilliance broke through, filling the saturated atmosphere with beautiful pin pricks of light. The prince watched as the timeframe ended for the third day in a row.

The days had been harsh to the Icer relatives, both physically and emotionally. Koola was itchy for battle, but consumed with the fatigue that went hand in hand with consistent travel over an unknown territory for three days with an injured parent. Right then he would settle for a stationary planet and a Supernova into its core rather than to meet the planet's army for melee combat. Yet he trudged on, ignoring the pounding desire for rest. Keeping a vigil and winning this tournament were the important things; there was plenty of time to sleep when he was fake-dead.

Cold wasn't looking much better. Still carrying his debilitating arm wound, his posture was slack, his eyes droopy, his motion slow and deliberate. Although far from death, the horned emperor was in a bad shape. He needed to stop, at least for a while.

"Hey," Koola said, breaking the silence of their trip, "you look like you could use a rest." Indeed he did, but the prince was also savouring a chance to recharge.

Cold blinked his eyes in quick succession, as if waking from a dream. "You know, that sounds like a good idea. My detached arm isn't exactly an energy saver."

"Over here," his son motioned, approaching a solitary tree in the middle of the field. Koola helped his father to the ground, who slouched his back against the trunk. Rummaging through the king's satchel, the changeling offspring extracted his food and water and gave it to him, allowing him to fuel himself at his own pace. The prince joined him, falling rather heavily to the earth and taking greedy sips from his flask.

"So, how do you think we're doing?" Koola asked as he lay the water bottle in his lap. "I mean, apart from the... well, you know."

Cold seemed to need to sleep, but humoured his son anyway. "Uh, well... we've spent most of our three days here wandering without an objective, save to kill anyone we run into, but we've only encountered one group. We didn't kill them, and we both walked away injured." He peered at Koola's bullet wounds before adding, "some worse than others. All up, I think we're doing pretty crap."

Just as Cold finished talking, the queen's voice returned to the airwaves.

"Another dead," Koola noted as Sazuaa's name resonated throughout the field. "That must bring the total down to around twenty." The prince's nonchalant attitude suddenly became determined. "I guess we're not doing all that bad. Sure, we haven't slayed anyone and it's going to be hard for you to play a guitar now, but we've lasted through half of the contestants. We just need to keep strong and alert. Right?"

The changeling shot a glance at his silent father. His chin was dug into his chest, his breathing far more peaceful and relaxed. Koola smirked, standing from the ground and placing his limited provisions into his bag.

"All right, dad. You sleep for now. I hope we can fix your arm in the morning."

[Super Buu]

OOC: Damn guys, sorry for the lack of posting. After I finished my last assignment I just sort of collapsed. XD Anyway, hoping to rectify that now.


The last day had been a whirlwind for Super Buu. He remembered little ? how they?d managed to drag themselves here, or why he and Seventeen has fallen back into their old camaraderie with so little resistance. It was almost like a dream. They?d encountered no-one. Though they were on the brink of death, it still felt like bliss to be on the island, where your only responsibility was to keep yourself alive.

That was why Buu was here. Maybe it was just that ? the game?s premise that had woken up his self-serving side. All he knew was that this year, he was ?playing the game?, so to speak. He?d killed and wounded more people in the last few days than he had in the entirety of the last competition

He?d changed, for sure. But was it just strength, or was there something else aiding him?

Buu?s head spun. Lying down on his back, the golem shut his eyes and tried to blank out the things that were racing through his mind.

?I?M STILL HERE.?

The monster almost screamed at the voice. Why wouldn?t they leave? What had he done that was so bad?

?WHY WON?T YOU WAKE UP??

Buu kept his eyes shut tight. Would he be granted a quick death? No ? of course not.

Suddenly he felt a cold grip on his shoulders, pulling him up. This time he did scream. The monster kicked childishly, his one leg flailing around as the stump of the other bobbed uselessly. His screwed-up hands connected with whatever he was fighting, but didn?t do any damage. And everything yearned for them just to let go, to put him down and let him rot in his own mind.

?Buu!?

The construct blinked awake. ?Seventeen. Where am I??

?We?re on Dante, remember?? The cyborg smiled weakly. For some reason, he wasn?t his usual lighthearted self.

Seeing this, Buu frowned. ?There?s something different about you. What is it??

Seventeen began to laugh, but a grimace of pain cut him short. ?Well, besides having been punched through the gut by the strongest person on this island, I?m about to be a father, you?re going crazy, and I?m all out of pot.? He took a deep breath, as though he were about to springboard into a spiel, before Buu cut in:

?Hold on. You?ve been punched through the gut??

The cyborg raised an eyebrow. ?Yeah, you were there. I was with Raditzu, and then you came along and started fighting him. He blasted your leg off and gave me something of a stomach ache.?

?Hold on!? said Buu, looking around frantically. He patted himself up and down before cursing. ?Where?s my bag??

?I?ll get it,? sighed Seventeen. Heaving himself to his feet and using his metal crutch for support, the cyborg began to hobble over to a large chestnut tree. He scooped up the bag and returned, dropping it at his friend?s foot ? one could no longer aptly say ?feet?.

?Thanks,? gushed the monster, as he began to rifle through his belongings.

?What are you looking for?? questioned Seventeen, looking with a mixture of amusement and concern at his friend?s fervour.

?Bandages!? Buu proclaimed, thrusting his hand up into the sky. Sure enough, within his hand was the half-used remains of a medkit.

Seventeen?s eyes widened. ?Where did you get this??

?I ? uh ??

You got it from me, whispered a voice in the monster?s head.

Buu?s pupils dilated. Paige. How had he forgotten? He?d killed her.

He blinked and thrust the medkit at his companion. ?Use it. It?s yours.?

Seventeen blinked. ?But your wound is far worse. We should patch up your leg!?

Supes chuckled. ?Nah, what?s the point. It?s gone anyway, at least until I can regenerate the stubborn bastard. You just use that on yourself.?

?But--?

?Oh cut the hero leadership crap,? Buu sneered with his usual tone. ?I?m telling you to take this!? Then, more quietly; ?You have more right to it than me.?

Seventeen was confused by his friend?s words, but nodded. ?Thanks ? Buu,? he murmured.

?Don?t mention it,? grunted Supes, rolling over so that he faced away from his android chum. He wondered ? when he?d been dreaming, had the voice been Seventeen?s or someone else?s? He wanted to sleep, but he was afraid of finding out the answer.

[King Cold444]

"I'm not sleeping." Cold grunted, his body far more relaxed now that they'd slowed down. Naturally the lids had fallen over his eyes and he assumed a faux slumber. "I'm... I'm thinking."

It had come to this and the ultimatum was to be decided or he'd just carry on hurt and drunk from exhaustion. He stood at his fully erect height, using a single arm to hoist himself to his feet, his visage pointed to the sky. It was here that he'd sacrifice what he hadn't wished to leave behind--so with a calculated yank he was freed of his burden, reopening the floodgates of royal blood.

Screaming out in frustration more than pain, Cold upholstered his shock rifle and tossed it to Koola. "Keep it steady on the wound for two second intervals, continue as its needed to close the wound."

Koola nodded in acknowledgement and put rifle to Cold's shoulder, a sharp crackle of blinding white marked a scheme full of hurt. Cold screamed out, the pain ripping through him matching those of the fires he'd marched through to face Killian. It was colder now than before, his massive frame clammy and wobbling from enduring the two seconds of unearthly pain.

"Damn, it didn't even close all the way..." Koola droned, ignoring his fathers plea for a slight delay and sending shockwaves throughout his body once again. Dribble came down Cold's chin, foam beginning to form in the back of his mouth, but Koola had stopped then. Although he wouldn't mention it aloud, he'd seen a jagged path of lightning attempting to unite from the peaks of KC's horns.

"Is it," King Cold gasped, his throat dry and the potency of his weapon being held against him discovered. "Is... is it closed?"

"No, there's still--" Koola started, but Cold snatched the rifle from his grasp.

"Gimme my gun, it'll have to bleed out again." Cold declared and fell into slump against the trunk again. His arm sat nearby, so he reached for its wrist and hoisted it upwards to investigate whatever was in its grasp. It wasn't a carton of cigarettes, as he'd hoped. In fact it was of unimportance, but Cold took it anyway.

"What's that?" Koola asked, noticing how Cold was cradling whatever he'd found as if it were his young.

Blackened lips curled upwards. "This is, what I like to call, a cliffhanger. You'll have to wait til the next post to figure out what it is."

[Jeice]

The sky began to slowly drift into darkness, indicating the third night was approaching. In a way, Jeice was surprised he was still alive. He went toe to toe with people who would easily be able to kill him, and had been walking around with a hole in his torso. Without Yamu?s help he would still be wandering around, tying to ignore his wound as it got worse. He still wasn?t moving as fast as he was before the fight. Sharp pain still shot across his body every time something brushed up against his stomach, causing him to doubt his abilities.

They had walked for hours without coming in contact with another person or group. The red skinned warrior figured it to be the calm before the storm. The moment of peace and tranquility he would have before he would meet his maker, but there were no moments of peace on the island, at least not for Jeice. He took Yamu?s advice to stay on his toes at all times to heart, never letting his guard down and always ready to attack. His eyes peered down to the automatic weapon he wielded with pride. Questions began to rise in the white haired fighter?s head.

What if the gun he had been carrying with him wasn?t as mighty as he thought. His reasoning for these thoughts was the fact that the last two warriors who have wielded the gun have been killed, while wielding the gun, without letting off a shot that could make a difference in the battle. His finger slid up and down the trigger as he stared at the gun. It didn?t matter, he wasn?t about to toss his fallen friends weapon. His hand released the machine gun and wandered to his bag and pulled out his canteen. He snapped the lid off and quickly brought it to his mouth. His lips anxiously opened waiting for the cold liquid to fill his mouth. The water instantly refreshed him, relieving the dry scratchy feeling.

He spun the cap back on and placed the canteen back to his bag. His hand returned to the handle of his gun, his index finger lightly tapped against the trigger. His eyes shifted to his human friend. Yamu had been staring at his bat as he held it out in front if him. Jeice fastened his pace as he tried to catch up to his friend.

?Yamu?? He called out.

The bald warrior sharply turned and dropped the bat to side, the nails just missing his leg. He seemed fine; there was no indication of something wrong. Perhaps he had just been thinking to himself, as Jeice was.

?Yeah?? He answered.

?Where are we going?? Jeice inquired quickly.

?To be honest, Jeice?I don?t know. I was hoping to run into someone?there's always tomorrow.? Yamu answered sincerely.

Jeice?s eyes stared at the darkening sky, he knew they would have to rest for the night. It worried him, there would be nothing to insure his safety as he was in his vulnerable state. He knew that he wouldn?t get sufficient sleep for the night.

[Burter]

Face to Face

Yamu, Jeice

SAM-13

The robotic sensor in SAM's hub picked up on two life readings coming close. He had been lurking in the same area for the last 72 hours, listening well to the announcements and crossing off names as he heard who fell. Lots of fighting had gone down, but he had decided to stay out of it.

But now it was coming for him. He gripped his jar. They'd be dead before they knew what hit em.

"Looks like someone's been here," came a bulky voice. Sammy watched as a large, pale human walked into his view. He remained crouch in a bush, watching as the person he spoke to: a red, white-haired alien, appeared. "Keep an eye out, Jeice."

"No prob," the red one agreed. They both seemed to be injured from previous scuffled. As Jeice left their view, SAM focussed his efforts on jumping the big, white one.

With his scanner giving him a good idea of what to do, SAM-13 snuck out behind Yamu as he gripped his baseball bat. The robot stood up straight, holding his arm out, ready to strike.

Yamu turned just in time to see the robotic hand crash down onto his chin. He spun around, grimacing. "He's here!" The man shouted just as SAM headbutted him backwards.

As Yamu hit the ground, Sammy raised up both hands, ready to slam the human again. Just as he did, an explosion of ki erupted behind him.

SAM's victory was cut short as the machine gun from Jeice shot him up from behind, tearing up his wirings and sending him down onto the ground.

#41 SAM-13 DEAD

22 Remain

Either of you can take the Ki Sand

[Android 17]

With a faint smile, the android accepted to small container from his crippled ally and began limping over the stump of the tree he had knocked over an hour or so earlier. Grunting as he moved, Seventeen plopped down on the slanted surface and placed the medical kit on his right knee. Using a swift motion, the machine-hybrid slid his finger under the box?s hatch and flipped the cover open.

Although half of the supplies had been used by Super Buu earlier in the competition, there were still enough provisions in the container to patch up the android?s abdominal wound. Rooting through the small box, the cyborg first pulled out a vial of antiseptic solution. Spinning off the plastic cap, Seventeen gritted his ruined teeth and poured the foul-smelling solution onto both sides of his wound.

Upon hitting the bandages the android had applied, the liquid sizzled and hissed for a few moments as it seeped through the leaves and into the interior of the injury. Grunting in discomfort, the android placed the emptied vial back into the kit and pulled out a few compression pads. After ripping the paper cover off the adhesive strips, Seventeen placed the large discs over both sides of his wound. Although he felt an awkward degree of discomfort, the machine-hybrid knew he would have to deal with it or go without medical attention.

Once the pads had been applied, the cybernetic warrior shifted his wearied eyes back to the remaining contents of the medkit. Moving quickly and silently, the android liberated a roll of dressing cloth from the box and began to unravel it with the utmost haste. Even though he kept the crude bandage he had applied beforehand, the android nevertheless wrapped the comforting cloth around the entire circumference of his relatively thin abdomen.

When there was no more dressing to apply, Seventeen reached back into the medkit and pulled out a number of small metal clips designed to secure the ends of the dressing to prevent it from unraveling. After insuring that the cloth would stay in place, the android tossed the cardboard center of the roll back into the bock and checked to make sure he hadn?t missed anything.

?What?s this?? The android inquired softly and to no one in particular as he pulled out a small syringe from the medkit. Upon reading the label, he realized that it was some type of painkiller to be used in tandem with the other supplies. With a grin on his face, Seventeen pulled the safety cap off the needle and plunged it into his abdomen. Clenching his eyes shut, the cybernetic warrior depressed the syringe and began to curse as the fluid burned its way into his systems.

A few moments later, Seventeen tore out the syringe and tossed it into the now empty medkit. With somewhat renewed vigor, the cyborg closed the small box and let it fall to the ground as he stood off the uncomfortable stump. Walking over to his survival bag, the android liberated his old shirt from the collection of cans, flasks, and bottles. Although he was still in a lot of pain, the drugs helped to take enough of the edge off and permit Seventeen to put the shirt on with only slight discomfort.

?Thanks again, Buu,? Seventeen muttered, picking up his survival bag and turning around to help his comrade off the ground.

?I said don?t mention it,? the bubblegum-colored monster groaned as he struggled to stand up off the earth. Once he standing on his remaining leg, the android handed him his crutch, and the two resumed their trek through the unknown wilderness that had become their living hell.

OOC: Major injury down to Minor Injury. Medkit is gone.

[Retane]

What could he do now? What would be his next move? Day three was nearing it's end and twenty-two foes were still out there hunting for him. Within the past seventy two hours, he had been in six fights, and had scored three kills. Tapion had been involved with all six of those fights and, by his count, had scored three as well. But now the mercenary was alone and injured. He had no one else to depend on excpet for himself.

His head rang out in pain as he moved on, not thinking that staying still and waiting as bait was the wisest of decisions. His hunters insticts told him to keep moving, to find another victim and feast upon his kill. Adrenaline rushed his body and forced him to ignore the pain from the wounds his battle worn figure had tooken. His visage, though distorted, no longer shown a sad face, but in it's stead was a stern look, a look that he use to wear on his missions.

The look of a heartless assassin.

Retane moved noisily, dragging his only booted foot along the ground, attempting to attract attention. He wanted to be found, wanted to be attacked. It was all part of his plan. Let a fox see what he thinks is an injured rodent from afar, only to find that his eyes had deceived him as said fox stumbles across a vicsious wolf. The renegade was cautious as he moved though, knowing all to well his trap could backfire, that someone could be more intellegent and attack him from afar. He truly wished he stumbled across someone with pure arogance though.

He felt his insides burning, yearning to release the strange power he had unleashed back in the huge battle. He was anxious, he wanted to see if he could do it again, wanted to try it out and see what he could possibly do with such powers. His mind raced, wondering if they were the innate powers of legend of the Nameks. Had he acheiched a higher level of power? Did his disgraceful race, once again, aid him in his biddings that they so despised?

Regeneration, and now this recently tapped power?

Or perhaps it was something from within himself that had done it, or some other unknown force?

In the end it didin't matter, if he had truely jumped in power, then perhaps he would pay another visit to his dearly wretched planet. After, that is, he was done here on the Abyss.

He was fixated on tearing his victims apart limb by limb. Minoshia and now Tapion had fell to this hell of a place. It was about damned time that the Abyss fall to the savage brutality of the assassin.

[Yamu]

?Son of a BITCH!? Yamu rubbed his jaw where the metal fingers of the strange red fighter had dug into his skin. He kicked the pile of crimson metal sending a cascade of sparks out the other side, ?That is what you GET!? The Arlian Guardian looked up to see Jeice frozen in place, gun still pointed at the robot that now more closely resembled Swiss cheese more then a complex automaton. ?Hey?Jeice?? The white haired fighter did not respond, his eyes boring holes through the sparking robot. Yamu walked forward slowly at a slight crouch trying to get his ally?s attention ?You ok, man??

?YES!? The sudden response made Yamu to jump back and almost dropping Kari. ?FUCK YES! You said this gun was cursed!? Jeice laughed, firing another volley from the gun into the air in celebration. Yamu breathed a sigh of relief then joined in the laughter as his friend celebrated not only his first kill but the first kill with the Ki Machine Gun that had rotated through their group. Jeice danced, using the weapon like a pimp staff, digging the butt into the ground and taking exaggerated steps. ?That was for you, Bulma.? He said pointing in one direction, then spinning with more exaggerated steps pointed the other way, ?And that was for you, Paragus.?

Yamu kept laughing as he dug through the machine?s bags, ?An android doesn?t need food or water?? He tossed the bread and canteen into his own bag and found a funny looking jar under the food. Jeice was still strutting, drunk in celebration over surpassing where those who had gone before him had failed. ?Hey, Red, c?mere.?

Jeice stopped mid-jump and walked over, ?Finally decided on a nickname for me, Yamu??

?I?m trying it out?seeing if it fits. What do you make of this?? He tossed the cork plugged jar to his companion.

The white haired warrior set his firearm in the crook of his arm and popped the top off, a glowing sputter flew from top and settled over his blood stained gloves in an eerie green glow. Jeice smiled, ?Luckily for you, I studied the records. Ki Sand, just added this year.? Focusing his own energy through the sand the fighter floated the sand back into the jar and corked it. He flipped it back to Yamu. ?I?ve broken the curse of the Machine Gun, I?m keeping it. This baby is going to take me far.? He patted the rugged metal appreciatively. ?Maybe the sand will help you out.?

Yamu slid the jar into his sash for easy access. ?Y?know, it?s funny. What you said earlier, you were right.?

?About what??

?I need my friends around me. That?s why I used the medkit on ya. You saved my ass, man.? Yamu?s mind had been reflecting on it since Jeice had said it. The more he thought on it, the truer it seemed.

?You would have done the same. C?mon?I have adrenaline running to my fingernails. No way am I going to sleep, let?s use the dark to our advantage.? The fighter?s white hair was already disappearing into the dark abyss of the forest before Yamu could respond.

Going to get me killed? But the Arlian Guardian had to admit?winning was no longer enough?he wanted to be feared.



He caught up to Jeice and the pair began moving swifter then they had all day. The gloved gunner was moving smoothly again, the wound had finally healed Yamu supposed. Or, the adrenalin over making a kill really was giving Jeice a simultaneous second and third wind. The veiny titan felt the same way, sleep did not matter, even hunger was subsiding as the game circled smaller and smaller into the best of the best. He wanted them, Yamu wanted his name on the lips of those who fell. One could hide along the shores, hole up in the lighthouse, or scurry away from every encounter and one could make it pretty far doing that.

Yamu refused. He rejected that path as if it was sacrilege. Big Blue had thrown down the gauntlet and the only way to reach that end was by leaving a trail of bodies. His hands involuntarily clenched around Kari?s neck, right around the thin base to the point where the wood screamed and threatened to break. He would prove himself and he would do it head on.

No one could confidently say they would be living the next day, but Yamu knew he would at least be killing. That was enough for him?for now.

OOC: Yamu has the Ki Sand.

[Burter]

Face to Face

Retane

Gray Buu

Deep in the Abyss, a warrior, bearing the burdens of multiple skirmishes and clutching sacredly onto a delicately balanced life, stumbled across the landscape. All manners of noise bounced from every element, but then, that was the plan. It was impossible to sustain this much damage and remain unhindered. But through it all, he was a warrior, and part of that meant continuing on through unbearable circumstances.

And, currently, that meant allowing himself to express how vulnerable he actually was, and then some. This was not at all a natural element of Retane?s psyche. He fought until the last, gritted his teeth through injury, and masked burdens behind muscle. His limits were high, and leaving them behind took even more strength than hiding them. In the end, it was a smart move, and it was intelligence that won these matches, not muscle.

His plan would work, one way or another. The object was to attract attention, and that was an incredibly easy venture in the Abyss. And indeed, after a short while, someone noticed.

As soon as Retane heard the approach, the masquerade was finished. Instinct guided his defense, and his assailant?s scythe remained buried in Retane?s shadow. Yet, Buu was a genius in all things fighting, and the proper follow-up was employed: a kick to the face, using the scythe as leverage. As the impact sent Retane sprawling, Buu flipped himself to his feet and pulled the scythe out of the ground.

Luckily, Retane landed behind a dip of land, and this break of eye contact was all he needed.

Buu was immediately thrown into confusion. Shadows began to blur. His vision became a dimly-lit tornado. Behind him, he heard his attacker, but it was far too late to make a response.

It was a single nail to the neck. Buu?s head kicked forward, but his body fell backwards in a convulsive fit, inches away from the barrel of Retane?s nailgun. The Namek grasped Buu?s weapon, savored the feeling of rough, splintery wood in his hands, and brought the metal blade down upon Buu?s neck. The nail was split cleanly in two, a perfect, geometric tribute to a spotless assassination.

A few drops of blood spilt from where he was kicked in the face onto his victim?s body.

Almost spotless, the assassin mused.

#43 Gray Buu DEAD

21 Remain

Retane has the scythe.

Credit to this fight goes to Krillin

[Raditzu]

"Son of a bitch that stings..."

Its funny how jabbing your finger at a giant hole in your torso could invoke new sensations of pain. It was almost beyond Rad how he had managed to survive the shotgun blast Super Buu had delivered. The saiyan looked down at his stomach and sighed.

Almost immediately after the fight, Rad had found a place to stop and take stock of the damage he had sustained. Much to his relief, the entry wound in his back had been relatively small; it was the hole in his stomach that was causing him the real trouble. With several cries of pain, Rad had managed to more or less burn the wound in his back shut with bursts of ki; it was still incredibly tender, and likely to tear open again, but it let him concentrate on doing something about his stomach. The legs of his sweatpants had been sacrificed to make several lengs of make-shift bandages. Though they did nothing to actually help heal his wound, the wrappings would keep all of Rad's internal organs, well, internal.

The most troubling injury Rad had sustained, and the one for which he was truly enraged, was the loss of his hair. The shotgun blast had torn through his hair at the half-way point, more or less. With the loss of his pant legs, and half of his hair, Rad came to realize that Dante was a lot colder than he had originally thought.

The half-assed first aid that Raditzu had performed for himself had been many hours ago. Already his "bandages" were soaked in blood and Rad was finding himself quite tired. He was thankful, though, that the "cooldown" from his previous transformation had worn off. The combination of blood loss and cooldown had made moving around the island a difficult task. To top it all off, it looked like the saiyan was just about to run out of the rations that had come in his survival bag. Between taking food from the school cafeteria and the man he had killed with a yo-yo, Rad was amazed that he had gone for so long without having to look for food.

Rummaging through his bag was a fairly depressing prospect. Having been unable to claim a new weapon, Raditzu was left with the doll of himself, his trusty yo-yo, and a variety of random things he had picked up while traveling across the island: a handful of fortune cookies from the school, an incredibly shiny rock, a leaves to use as toilet paper, and a dead scorpion. Rad gingerly took a seat and pulled the doll out of his bag.

"Well... this isn't going quite as smoothly as I was hoping it would," the saiyan said to the stuffed doll. Much to Rad's surprised, the doll blinked and replied.

"Whomp whomp whomp."

[Jinpo]

Relentless.

Cargo brought the flail down on the blue alien?s visage again and again until it was as tender as raw meat and full of holes, similar to Swiss cheese. Sazuaa?s cheeseburger face now was unrecognizable, even to his attacker. When Cargo had gotten his fill of bludgeoning Saz?s now lifeless body, he observed a moment of silence to admire his work. While the teenager knew not who else he would kill in this game of death, he knew one thing for certain.

Sazuaa was dead and he was still alive.

That was all that mattered . . . for the moment.

Cargo leaned down and removed the flail from Sazuaa?s contorted countenance. The kid stood ankle deep in a puddle of blood belonging to his two victims during Dante?s Abyss.

?Neither of those two better have had AIDS.? he muttered as his tiptoed his way out of the sticky pool of vital fluids and proceeded to hobble away from the battlefield, without turning back.

All of Cargo?s battles up to this point had left the child?s body broken and battered. In addition to all of the internal injuries he had suffered earlier, Sazuaa had nearly cut the adolescent?s ankles to shreds. Yet, the olive warrior continued on with the same fire that burned within him after his ?emotional? ordeal. The pain was muted by the constant voice inside Cargo?s head that screamed for him to kill every last one of the remaining contestants in this game.

"Tap!?

?What the hell?? Cargo wondered. Was he hearing voices? He wasn?t in enough pain to make him delirious. The kid quickly turned on his scouter to scan for any power levels of significance within attack range. Cargo pondered as his scouter refused to light up with the signs of a potential fighter. ?Nothing. Then what the fuck did I hear?? It seemed like the Namekian?s brain had a mind of its own.

Tapion! Stay alive! I can NOT do this shit without you!"

?Wait a second . . .? the youngling uttered as the puzzle pieces began to assemble themselves within his mind. ?I think that Konat with the grenades was named Tapion. This must be a flashback from that fight with him and his Namekian partner.? The sudden realization launched Cargo headlong into an out-of-body experience into the past.

"Damnit!" Retane screamed, "Don't you fucking die!"The elder Namekian held his dying partner in his arms, tears flowing like waterfalls down his cheeks.

Sadness.

Cargo stood in silence, observing the sequence of events. He saw himself along with his latest victim, unconscious against the wall of the storage facility.

?Thanks, though," Tapion managed to spit out through bloody coughs. "Seriously...thank you, Retane."

The living partner?s uproarious grieving soon evolved into loud bellowing. Why did they have to take his friend? It was supposed to be Retane and Tapion in the final two. Now, their dream was gone. Why did it have to be him?

Anger.

The Namekian assassin rose to his feet with his comrade in his arms and a stolid look on his face. People were going to fall by his hand. He would make sure of it.

Suddenly, Cargo snapped out of his daydream; he was back in reality. He had been limping along the path the entire time. Luckily for him, no one was around to capitalize on the child?s active mind.

?Retane. So that is his name.? Cargo noted, ?Those two were definitely the gayest fighters I have ever seen.? The kid held back a chortle as his thoughts shifted towards why that specific thought had surfaced at that particular time. He could come up with only one answer: Retane would have to be next to die. The teenager continued to stagger down the forest path, guided by the moonlight, searching for his prey.