Ozell_One

[ QUOTE ]
"But, uh, I'd need a tiny favor first. It involves alchohol, the speaker system, and a canister of hallucinogenic gas. Interested?"

[/ QUOTE ]

"N-No, no, don't worry about something like that.." Ozell shook his head, kind and gullible as ever. "Things like a favor I'd always do for free. Um.. Alcohol the club has, there's speaker systems down on the dance floor... but.. a canister of hallucinogenic gas?..."

[ QUOTE ]
Emerging from a cloud of haze came Rulaag, the skull-face of a Skull still in his hands.

[/ QUOTE ]

"...We may just have one!"

Ozell waited for the two to introduce themselves before speaking again.

"R-Right.. Rulaag is teaching me the fundamentals of being a mercenary, so I guess this means I've got a third job, too. Rulaag, you wouldn't happen to have an.. um.. a canister of hallucinogenic gas, would you?.."

[ QUOTE ]
Poe sniffed at that. "Diov is still at Husk Corporation Tower."

[/ QUOTE ]

"He's still working hard on Valentine's day, too...? so's my boss. I wish people would take the day off."

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"How are things back at Equinox Labs?" He asked casually.

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"Well.. for me, it's always busy. Since I'm company property, I don't get paid for the work I do... I actually got a part-time job with my day off a while back to start getting pocket money. ...W-Well, cowl money. I don't have pockets."

He looked over the railing with a slight sigh.

"...M-Maybe it was a bad idea to come here today. I was just hoping to enjoy myself before getting to work, but everyone seems so..." He caught a couple making out under one of the stairs out of the corner of his eye. "...Far along."

"Mr. Poe! H-Hey there!" Ozell's cheerful voice called out to him in the club from a ways behind. He recognised him on sight- and while he was sure Poe probably hadn't heard his voice ever before, his oft-mocked ghostlike appearance was memorable enough. Yes, Mr. Masters had given him a job to do, but he hadn't exactly specified how Ozell was supposed to do it- and as it was when he was sent off to the goal without the ball, Ozell did what he always did: run off and hide somewhere to dick around.

"H-How are you today? ...And where's Mr. Diov and everyone else?" A pause. "...I like the music they're playing right now."

Valentine's morning was just like any other morning for the red-skinned Kosunn alien named Tomanton. He had risen before the sun, lit the candles, and was meditating on his apartment living room floor. He had already done his morning exercises, so now was the time he laid out the logistics of the day. Eyes closed in concentration, his thoughts echoed crystal-clear in his own mind.

"Valentine's day... a human holiday celebrating love and togetherness. Though unconfirmed, I believe I have heard somewhere that the man from which the holiday draws his namesake was Saint Valentine- a convicted and executed prisoner, an unlikely candidate for sainthood to be sure. How does this affect me?"

....mmmmmmmmm.....

"Greater stock will be placed today in crimes of passion than of any other, so I will be able to make more money from contract killing that I would for any other sort of criminal act. As far as money is concerned, I'm also fairly sure that Valentine's day is commercialized by way of candy and chocolate- thus, when the price falls tomorrow, I will invest in a large bundle to give to Kaloa as a gesture of appreciation for his patience and diligence while I--"

..Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..

Tomanton opened his eyes, staring down at the floor crossly as if he expected to magically see through it to the source of whatever was generating that godawful noise.


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"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."

One apartment in the otherwise filthy neighborhood of Mercy was kept almost obsessively neat and tidy- the various pieces of kitschy furniture and appliances were squeaky clean, and just about any surface in the apartment was sanitary enough to do anything you pleased with. This morning, 'anything you pleased' for the apartment's sole occupant happened to be rolling around the apartment wrapped up in a big, fluffy white blanket and humming like an idiot. The only visible clue to the person's identity was a slim red tail poking out one end of the mess.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm*bump-thud-crash*.. ...Oh, bother. Now I'm quite awake."

With a slight pout, Anarhis poked his head out from the ball of blankets to see what had brought his juvenile amusement to a premature end- in this case, it was a leg of his coffee table. Looking around to see what had knocked off, he soon found it- his "Paragon Heroes" table calendar. The hero of the day was Xenon Blue, some metal-clad shmuck he'd never heard of- and the date was February the 14th.

"Valentine's day..." He said aloud with a neutral and placated look on his face. As it was with someone who'd been around for awhile, the date evoked many memories, love, reminiscense, longing... jealousy, denial, bitterness, apathy. He soon got a hold of himself, shaking his head with a smile. "Why, I shouldn't be getting into a funk like this", he exclaimed. "There's no better time to be out looking for love! I am a teenager, after all."

Anarhis was a 'teen', all right- four hundred and seventeen, to be exact. But he was never one for the details. With a smirk and a snap of his fingers, his red skintone changed to a healthy tan, his white hair turning black and a set of black leather clothes with blue trim appearing on him.

"I'll go to the Pocket Dimension and see if I can't find anyone willing to amuse me."


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With his pointed elf ears twitching and a disattisfied frown on his face, Claude Carentyl sighed as he leaned over the Pocket D railing and looked down at all the couples on the dance floor.

How long had it been now, since his last and only relationship had utterly crushed any desire to get close to someone again? And here were all these people mixing, mingling, and having a good time. Sure, relationships turned bad sometimes, but it seemed like everyone else was willing to pick themselves up and try again, no matter what the... no. None of them were put through anything remotely close to what he endured. But what if... Claude let out a long, drawn sigh. If everything in the world seemed to be coming at him, maybe it was high time he accepted that he was the one going in the wrong direc-

"Why hellllllllo there."

He turned slowly around to see Anarhis staring at him up and down with an amused smirk on his face.

"...Can I help you with something...?" Claude frowned. This one had pointy ears too, but he wasn't an elf...

"...I was just wondering if you'd like a drink."

"Are you a waiter here?"

"No, but I definitely wouldn't mind waiting on you-"

"Then no." Claude cut him off with a frown.

Anarhis was undeterred. "Oh, come on. Just a drink and a chat."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't drink."

"Do you chat?"

"Listen, you stupid-" Just as Claude was about to unleash hell on the being, his cell phone rang. "...Hold that thought." He flipped it open, taking the call. "Hello...? No.. No. No, you've got a wrong number. My last name is 'Carentyl', not.. whoever the hell you're looking for. THIS number? ...It's 555-67-Alright you can stop undressing me with your eyes now please." He shot an icy glare to Anarhis, who smirked and looked away, as he realized that he probably shouldn't have said that pretty much right into the phone. "...I didn't mean you, but you still have the wrong number. Hello?" After a pause, he flipped it closed. "They hung up." He said that to no-one in particular, but it unintentionally kept Anarhis in the conversation.

He grinned, his tail flicking from side to side amusedly. "Well aren't you polite. And here I thought -I- did a bad job of picking up..."

"How about go die in a fire. I don't have time for this." Claude stiffened up, and stormed past Anarhis down to the hero elevators. The sad truth was on a day like Valentine's day, he had all the time in the world.


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"...'555-67-Alright you can stop undressing me with your eyes now please'...?"

"I think you dialed a wrong number, sir."

"No, really. What gave you that idea?" Bryce Masters, the CEO of Equinox Laboratories' Paragon City division, didn't let holidays get in the way of his work. The rest of the staff in the building was on the lower floors, enjoying a nice catered lunch for the occasion- the only absentees from the event being himself and the company's artificial humanoid, Ozell One, who was standing before him. "Who was it, pray tell, who decided to buy those awful cinnamon hearts for everyone in the building?" Hanging up the phone, he lifted a small plastic bag filled with the little candies and tied with a white ribbon and cast Ozell an accusing glare.

The artificial being shifted nervously in his bodysuit. "I... um.. I may have.."

"You may have?"

"What? Yes."

"...Yes what?"

"..bought those cinnamon hearts for everyone in the building, yes."

"Dammit, boy!"

"W-What?"

"I hate these!"

"It could be for your laptop.. You know, as a decoration."

"What do you expect me to do, glue them to the monitor so it dosen't close properly? Company property does not need gifts, we have been through this before. ...Argh! Do you have any idea how terrible the lab is going to smell for the next few weeks?!"

"...I like cinnamon. D:"

"How much did you pay for all of these?!"

"I-I bought them in bulk. It was like thirty dollars, sir."

"And who wrapped them?"

"I-I did, sir. The ribbon only cost about five dollars. I put them together during some downtime at the Repliforce Paragon base. I left them a few bags, too."

"Robots don't eat candy, you fool!"

"W-Well... okay, you're right. My bad."

"Wasteful! Where are you getting this money to squander?"

"My part time job."

"Dammit, Ozell, we didn't give you a day off so you could -work- some more. You're our product. We want our product to look its best. You use that day to rest."

"W-Well... maybe if you actually gave me some spending money.."

A pause.

"...Forget it, I'll write off the god-damned candies as a company expense. Did you save your receipts?"

"You don't save receipts for gifts.."

Mr. Masters sighed and groaned at the same time. "You are hopeless, Ozell One."

"Don't you have anyone you could be spending Valentine's day with, sir?"

Another pause- but this one was longer, more drawn out.. and slightly painful.

"...That's a loaded question."

"Well..."

"You know I'm divorced, Ozell."

Ozell polished his silver tonuge. He'd have to word this carefully. "...You seem like a committed person, Mr. Masters. And you're obviously real rich. What could have gone wrong...?" He was met with a harsh glare. "...I just want to know, then I won't ask ever again. Instead of the rumours that fly around the building, I want it straight from you." More glare. "....Uh.. p-please?"

"...It was over a disagreement."

"A disagreement...?"

"A disagreement over the family we wanted to raise," Mr. Masters said flatly. "She didn't want children. I wanted two."

"...You couldn't reach some sort of comprom-"

"By god, Ozell, what do you think I tried to do? It took years of convincing before she'd even consider the possibility of ONE child- even then, she wanted to wait until she had firm traction in her business career, never mind the fact that I make enough to support a family ten times over. When she was thirty-five, it seemed I had finally gotten through to her, she was willing to have a child.. but she didn't seem to be able to concieve."

Ozell had been about to ask if that was when he divorced her- but seeing the downcast look on his face, he realized that both it would be a really stupid thing to say and that Mr. Masters wasn't done.

"She refused to get help or go see a doctor, claiming she was too embarassed to admit she was infertile... I trust my gut feelings, Ozell. I hired a private investigator, who soon caught her buying contraceptives."

Ozell bit his lip- that was one thing he didn't need spelled out for him.

"Are you happy now?"

"Yes. ...! I-I mean, no! No I am not happy with--"

"Get over it. ...I did." He tossed the bag of candy to Ozell, who caught it and compulsively tucked it in his cowl. "You got your story, now get back to work. The first thing I want you to do is find out the new contact number for this company. I'm looking at the registry, and I didn't dial the number wrong."

"Understood. ...What company is this, sir..?"

"Greensryche Industries. From the sounds of it, I wound up dialing Angry Elf Incorporated."

"I got it. Um... see you, Mr. Masters." Ozell pushed open the oak doors to the office, stepping out into the hallway- and, after spending a moment glancing in the direction he thought he had heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, decided it was just his imagination and went on his way.


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Tapatapatapatapatapa-- click. There, that was the last of them.. finally.

Deep inside the Greensryche Research base, Unit Lyden backed away from the data entry terminal he had been using to update the Greensryche Industries direct assosciate contact number in all files in which it was present. The process was tedious, redundant, and no doubt a bit awkward when someone inevitably called the new owner of the old number, but it was worth it: In changing his contact number frequently, Lyden's master Redd was able to maintain a good sense of privacy as well as weed out old assosciates who he didn't do business with anymore. With a few extra keystrokes, the new number was forwarded to everybody who was deemed worthy of it. Lyden shut the computer down, and sighed- there was one more thing he had left to do.

Opening up one of the lab drawers, he crouched and pulled out a plush kitten- then turned to look over at the stasis capsules where the other units currently 'slept'. Walking silenty over as if it mattered, he set the doll on top of the tank marked 'Locria'- it would fall down and land infront of it the next time that capsule opened. Lyden then turned, walking out of the room and down out of sight.

((That was a bit longer than it needed to be. >_> Edited for word wrap great justice))

2) You'll note that on-line, with the added game, some people's tastes vary greatly- while some are happy to RP in a supergroup base for hours on end, others get mad if you get off more than a couple lines in-between mobs. I'm for either. Global is @Tomanton.

3) Be more specific! To read them, or, you've got an idea in mind?

"What I'm doing? I'm giving you a gift because it'sACK!"

Ozell leapt lightly away from the thorns with a slight yelp. Having seen them coming (and knowing the pain they caused), he was easily able to dodge- though in doing so he spilled his hot chocolate, causing it to splash and slide down the material of his black bodysuit onto the floor. His bodysuit was fine and Ozell hadn't even felt it, but now the carpet had a stain.

"...Sorrysorrysorry!! Hang on!" Setting his cup down, Ozell dashed out of the room- returning a moment later with paper towels and a cup of water. Pouring that on the floor to dilute it, he set the towels down to then soak it up.

"...It's Hallucinogen's birthday tomorrow. Which means that if you're the same person, kinda sorta, it's also yours. ...I didn't want you to be left out if I couldn't make it." He looked away with a meek grin. "Besides, I think you'll appreciate it. And yes, I said 'if' I couldn't make it. I'm going to try to meet up with you! ...But if I don't.. yeah. You've got that gift."

And with that, he backed out of the room. He had strategy he had to discuss with Rulaag. "Enjoy the hot chocolate!"

Ozell smiled as his tray was lightened a bit. The hot chocolate was already at the perfect temperature- not only had Ozell been heavy on the mix, but he had added milk to cool it down, as well as what tasted like a bit of butter. The result was a cup of hot chocolate that tasted so good that you felt guilty to drink it lest you get fat.

"N-Nothing, really. The lab has been stepping up its PR stuff, which means I've had a bit more work than usual.. but nothing to worry about. I'm here to get the best results possible-- Maybe the pressure's on, but to me it feels like a vacation."

He smiled brightly once again. It was never visible behind his scarf, of course, but he was one of those people who had an aura to him in that regard. As he set the tray down on the table, a small box could be seen laying on it behind the kettle... it was covered in purple wrapping paper, and tied in a lime green ribbon. 'Schizophrenias' was written on it in Ozell's neat, curvy handwriting.

"Oh, and..." Ozell pointed nonchalantly to the gift on the tray. "That's for you, Schizophrenias. You don't have to open it here."

"...That's too bad about your loss! I was cheering for you the whole way, though."

Ozell beamed enthusiastically, shrugging off the unconventional way he had been greeted. In his arms was a tray that was loaded down with many cups, mixes, and a steaming electric kettle.

"And hello, Burning Brawler. I.. figured you guys would like some hot chocolate."

The thumping on the door took an annoyed pause. Ozell's mid-pitched and slightly agitated voice sounded on the other side.

"Schizophrenias, I can hear you in there! Let me in!"

"Luck alone did not doom that fight. Technique aside, severe misconceptions of approach and expecation more than likely ended our bout for us before it began...I cannot repeat the same mistakes if I want to salvage this chance.

...

Team Burning Insanity will be a more difficult fight than the last- their very nature tilts the odds against us. If they know it now or not I am unsure, but no doubt they will find out. What approach could shall we take...?"

Tomanton's thoughts were in turmoil, as he sat in a meditiative position... outside the Keep Yourself Alive room, blocking the front door. He knew so much about Scordatura so as to understand her need to keep seperate identities, and thus he would afford her her privacy if she needed to rid herself of the armor for awhile. Any comfort that could be made, he would make- he wanted his teammate to be rested for the match to come.

-----------------------

Lyden was taking up just a corner of the Ancient Darkness room, as he had before. Moonscribe had turned down the offer of a rematch, conceding their fight. Was this part of his plan? With no opponent picked yet, there were too many outcomes to calculate, so... Lyden simply lowered his eyes. Even supersoldiers needed some rest sometimes.

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Burning Brawler and Schizophrenias would here a knocking at their door- or more accurately, a light thudding- as if someone was bumping at it with their heads.

((Something along the lines of 'Show yourself you damn mystery teammate'? ))

"...'Cat and Mouse', Rulaag. We'll be up against them first." Inside the Viper Corps room, Ozell gave a rather matter-of-fact tap with his finger on the self-made chart he had studiously hand-copied from the official one first shown on the ship. "The cat is Shade Panther, and the mouse, well, I guess that's Cypherr. I've worked with both of them before, on seperate occasions. They're both competent heroes."

Twirling a pen marked with the Equinox Labs logo between his fingers, he frowned a bit. "Cypherr likes to use big zaps--I mean, uh.. electric attacks, at a distance. That, and she's really slippery- she'll get evasive if she gets hurt, for sure. Shade Panther... has pretty much the same powers as me, though. And she seems to be really confident... Th-There's no telling what she might do. ...In addition, they're both very independent... if we happened to get one alone, I don't think their ability would be affected one bit." Ozell sat, flustered a moment, before he shook his head. No. There's no sense getting worked up. No being a burden to your teammate. "...Rulaag, any ideas on your end?"

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Lyden remained in an at-ease position in the Ancient Darkness room, eyes staring straight ahead at the wall across from him, allowing Moonscribe to go about his business in relative privacy. Whenever Lyden kept up like this, he had found most of his clients would begin to accept him as a piece of furniture. His first matchup would be against Morgant and Lady Permafrost- two proactive heroes whom he had served once while they were undercover in the Isles. Not that that mattered now- the question raised was which set of techniques they were most likely to employ. Even without the assistance of the various bits and pieces of cybernetics implanted in his brain, Lyden could easily calculate the odds of either set of techniques being brought forth:

"Templar Morgant" probablity 92%. "Lady Permafrost" probability 100%.

It was the knockout blow. Moonscribe was comparatively fragile to Lyden- no way would they pass up the opportunity to take him out in one shot. That was Morgant. And why Lady Permafrost? Because from what he'd seen, she was still a bit clumsy wielding the Vangelis- she would do better in her own element as a complement to Morgant that could cure anything Moonscribe ailed him with.

That was the facts as he knew them- he supressed an urge to glance over to Moonscribe, to see how much thought he was giving to it. No doubt he had everything figured out.

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"Scordatura? I may be among them in the Isles, but I cannot say that I'm familiar with either of the villains we will face first. To my knowledge, however, a stalker-mastermind pairing would cause a potential rift in our ideal strategy." Tomanton closed his eyes in thought as he sat in a meditative position on his bed. "For now, all I can bring to your attention is the rather segregated bracket they've arrange this tournament in. We might do well to find an ally on the other side of the board- information is information, and sparring experience would be valuable. In most circumstances, we'll likely be able to find a team that closely matches our upcoming opponent."

After a long and laboured silence he exhaled through his nose, and leaned back onto the bed, head resting on the pillow. "...Something will have come to me in the morning. We will discuss it then."

Lyden glanced up at Moonscribe, allowing his jacket to fall off the rest of the way to show his full upper armor.

[ QUOTE ]
The robed man turned to look directly at Lyden, adjusting his glasses and causing light to flash off them for a brief second. "I have never met you before and have no idea who you are," he remarked, smiling politely at the GSR Unit. "Would you care to join forces?"

[/ QUOTE ]

For a minute, Lyden looked him squarely in the eyes. As they focused, they seemed to darken and swirl with negative energy, such as it was when he was in intense thought.. then, blinking, any traces of the stuff were gone. He nodded to Moonscribe and adjusted into an at-ease position.

"Affirmative. Unit Lyden will assist."

Tomanton, seeing the pairing, turned back away- it was no longer worth his time. As he made one last sweep of his field of vision before resigning himself to looking out at the ocean, his gaze momentarily fell on Scordatura- and stayed there.

"..."

((The Bump! Because apparently interest isn't 100% dead in it. We'll see.))

With eyes half-narrowed (or half-closed, it was hard to tell), Tomanton turned to regard Moonscribe with a snort. Being a bit under the weather as he was, he seemed a little put off by the glint on his glasses... "Hello, ...scholar." At least, that was Toman's guess as to what he was. While he wasn't overtly familar with Moonscribe himself, he was a little surprised a good deal of the participants were people he knew of... and thus had information on.

Lyden, making his way to the front of the boat as well, felt that he no longer had any reason to keep his bulky clothes on over his armor. Affixing his mask to his face and beginning to shuffle out of it, it was down around his arms when he paused to lean back against one of the ferry's walls and stare out at the ocean.

[ QUOTE ]
He then cleared his throat. "COMBATANTS! Please make your way to the boat, so we can set sail to Abbot penitentiary."


[/ QUOTE ]

"Rulaag! It's good to see you made it." Ozell gave a nod, hoisting his rather hefty gym bag over his shoulder. "Come on, let's get on so we can find somewhere good to sit and plan this out."

With another nod to Hal and crew, Ozell turned and boldly stepped toward the boat.

--------------

Hearing the call, Lyden stepped out of his car- gently shutting the door, locking it, fluffing the collar of his jacket, and shuffling off toward the boat. He kept his head down, and his shoulders somewhat up- aside from his orange hair, he looked more or less like a normal person. For those that knew him, he might even be slightly hard to tell apart from his older brother Topaz.

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Tomanton, already at the bow of the boat, didn't move- only drawing another long, labored breath. This was going to be a long trip for him.

See? Why on earth was anyone skeptical about this? Not to name*coughkhellcough* names or anything..

Can't wait for the last part!

((Hey, now. Retelling a rather open-and-shut story and managing to work in everyone's character is a tall order. So far so good! ))

"Thanks again for using your lunch break to give me a ride here, Keith." Ozell stepped out of the economy car, closing the door behind him- shutting it a bit too gently, it didn't close properly so he had to open and close it again.

"It's no problem, Ozell." The young man with short black hair called through the open window. "Make us proud!"

With a forced nod, Ozell whirled on his heels to face the docks and the ferry. Faced with the crowd of unknown and quite intimidating people, he did what any nervous kid would- make a beeline for the one person they knew really well. This happened to be Hal.

"Hallucinogen! Hey there!" He turned a bit of a nervous eye toward Schizo as well, but figured he wasn't too big of a threat.. at the moment.

------------------------------

Lyden was waiting in his jet-black vintage muscle car a short distance from the boat. He would make his presence known and board only when the final call was made- right now he was making a visual appraisal of his competition, and cross-referencing what he could see with the list of people his master had given him to watch out for. If anyone came close, he'd just look like any other kid, sitting in his car- though to the observant, the outlines and bulges of his bodysuit would be visable beneath the jacket and jeans.

---------------------------

If anyone made their way to the bow of the ferry, they'd find Tomanton. Valuing punctuality above much else, he had been one of the first to arrive- though, as under the weather as he was, having waited this long probably wasn't a good idea. His scarf was wrapped a couple times around his nose and mouth for good measure- occasionally he would pull it down to wipe his nose with a tissue, then fold it up and pocket it. If he wanted his wish granted, this was the first step.

Topaz grinned, brushed some falling snow out of his orange hair, and grinned.

"In this area? I was hoping to get some information, but all I seem to be getting is cold. Know anywhere I can.. warm up?"

-------------------


Lyden blinked down at Truefeather. Who was this woman, and why was she smiling at him? Did he have something on his face, other than his mask?

He shrugged and pulled a black tarp over his gear, standing up. If he had been invited directly into this event, it would give him an opportunity to observe social behavior up close- which was better than he could hope for on the roof. Looking like he was sliding off it, he vanished into thin air- promptly appearing beside her in an at-ease position.

"...Proceeding on signal?"

*Sits with them and eats more than his share of the popcorn* Catchy title!

Little did Rosalind know, a certain party was very interested in her on this night. They were poised, ready and waiting, equipped with the best technology money could buy in order to scrutinize her every move, sound and action..

"Big Bear! Good to sKKKKKKHK--"

...

"Holy crap... That was the CKKKKkkkkkkKkKKING EVER!!"

...

"Come on and join the party! Grab some rekshhhhhhHHHHHHhhhhhthing. We're gonna have a dance in the bassssSHHhhent later, so better stKKKKKK--"

...Or maybe not.

Lyden pulled off his headset, turned off the tape recorder and unplugged the shotgun microphone. There was no way he could pick up Rosalind's voice at this distance, on another rooftop several dozen meters away... with the way she was moving around... and with how poor of an aim he was with it. At this rate, how was he ever going to learn about common holiday socialization patterns?

Undaunted, however, he took to looking at the house through a pair of high-tech binoculars- after all, body language was supposedly just as important as the spoken word, wasn't it? Lyden would learn. After all, there was someone he hoped would be impressed by this commitment.


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Kings' Row was always the last part of Paragon City to recieve snow clearing treatment. Odd, as the grid-like layout of the zone would seemingly make it easier than anywhere else to plow. Everything was covered in a neat, soft, undisturbed blanket, ruptured only by the almost rail-like indentations left by cars moving along in single file. In front of the towering Equinox Laboratories building, it seemed like nobody had come or gone for awhile.

"...I am working at this late hour, Ozell, because I am committed to my job. Any questions?"

"...Why are you so comitted to your job, Mr. Masters?"

"Any other questions?" The tall and muscular operations chairman Bryce Masters looked a little silly hunched over his desk, typing away at his laptop. Ever the hard worker, he didn't care that the e-mail he was typing out would not likely be read for a whole week- All the other employees had gone home for the holidays, leaving only the security staff, the artificial human Ozell One, and Mr. Masters himself.

"...Do I get anything for Christmas?"

"Isn't the tree in your room enough?" By 'tree', Mr. Masters meant the plastic Charlie Brown-caliber light-up electric tree someone had set on Ozell's bedside table. By 'room', Mr. Masters meant the horrid living space full of video cameras and one way mirrors meant to ensure Ozell never knew the meaning of the word 'privacy'.

"Well.." Ozell began, shakily, "I mean, I've done my best and tried hard all year.. All the other staff got to go home. Keith and Julia too, and I heard some people talking about holiday bonuses, and gifts they got for--"

"Ozell."

"Yes, Mr. Masters?"

"You are company property."

"...And?"

"This computer has done its best and tried hard all year. I am not buying it anything for Christmas. Incidentally, it is also company property."

"..........oh."

"Good, I see you've connected the dots on your own. Why don't you go back to your room and rest, take advantage of the fact that nobody is currently asking anything of you for once."

"...." Ozell, visibly crushed, knew that was not an idle suggestion- and he didn't have to be told twice. With his shoulders slumped and his head down, he trudged out of the room- down several hallways to his own. The door was open- he hadn't bothered to close it on his way out. What struck him as odd, though, was that the little tree had been turned on- he could have sworn he hadn't even so much as touched it before. His room was bathed in a soft, pulsing light.

Sitting down on the bed, he couldn't help but stare at the lights- how the colors softly faded in and out, and flickered to and fro. Real families had bigger ones of these, didn't they?.. They'd go to tree lots, and pick them out together, and take them home together and decorate them with care and really enjoy the time they spent together and-- no. There was no point in getting worked up over it. None at all. That was someone else and this was him.. whatever. Resolving to turn the thing off and stuff it somewhere he wouldn't have to look at it, he leaned forward.. and stopped.

A thumbprint was showing pretty clearly on the lit up on/off switch.. It was sort of dirty, and smudged a bit, but he recognized the simple patern of the loop to be his own. He didn't think his hands were that dirty, but.. there was that mystery solved.

Ozell smiled beneath his mask. It wasn't so bad, the tree. He'd leave it on and watch a little longer.


-----------------------


Whatever sound or silence Zealstorm heard in her lab would be broken by a sound that seemed to come from within her own head- someone had found her comm frequency. Whether the speaker had done so by sheer dumb luck or an educated guess was clarified instantly, when a familiar cocky yet serious voice came through on the airwave. With the clarity of the voice, he had to be within a mile or so.

"I told you I could find you again if I had to, Zealstorm. Don't even think of keeping quiet on me- I know I'm right."

Topaz put in a deliberate pause, to see where she would steer the conversation... if she replied.

I don't have many memorable characters, but if one of them fits.. feel free to use them. XD;

Name: Ozell One
Level: 15 (d'oh)
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Claws
Secondary: Regeneration

The artificial human named Ozell One lay sprawled out on the bed of his living quarters. Formally, the 'private' space set aside for Ozell in Equinox Laboratories was called the Estoc (Equinox Synthetics Test and Observation Chambers)- Ozell called it the doll house, because each room had a wall set aside for a huge one-way mirror along with security cameras and audio capture devices so that the scientists could observe and record his every move. Privacy, his artificial [censored]. He was a little surprised when the door to his room opened, though- a young lab technician with short, messy black hair looking to Ozell with a mix of relief and pity. Ozell sat up.

"Keith! ..I thought you were in a meeting? With Mr. Masters and Julia and the rest of them.."

The man smiled weakly. "Well.. yes, Ozell. This came in the mail for you, though. Mr. Masters screened it, and.. you know how he likes things done right away. As soon as he made up his mind, he excused me to deliver it to you. You're fighting in a tournament."

He held out the invitation for Ozell to read. He skimmed it dully.. but when he reached the bottom line, his dull white eyes went wide. "......Wish??"

"Apparently." Keith grinned, setting the note down on Ozell's bedside table. "Mr. Masters expects nothing short of a win, so you'd better start thinking of one. Best of luck, Ozell. We'll be cheering for you. Make sure you make your wish count!"

Ozell looked to him gravely as he left.. didn't have to tell him twice. Trembling slightly, he knew there was something more than anything else in the world he wanted. "I wish I had my memories back."



Name: GSR-Lyden
Level: 27
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Dark Melee
Secondary: Dark..whatever

In the medical wing of Greensryche Research secret laboratory, the hissing and clicking open of a stasis capsule door signified that one of the GSR Units artificial sleep was over. The orange-haired boy who stepped out, dully opening his eyes, would be groggy for all of about half a second before a needle pricked the back of his neck in a space in the bodysuit too small to see, and various chemicals injected into his body shocked him wide awake. Greensryche Unit Lyden was ready to serve.

The lab was, as usual, cold and lonely. The other units were either out or in stasis, and everything here was in proper working order. First order of business.. do a check of the lab's computer systems. Wait, what idiot taped this piece of paper to the monitor? ..."The chance of a lifetime"...?

His mind was, of course, already made up. His master would definitely let him represent Greensryche in this tournament. But, what to wish for?

"This Unit wishes only to serve his master."

Wait, he was already doing that.

"This Unit wishes... to have the opportunity to prove himself."

Crap, that didn't work either. There really wasn't much he or his master didn't already have going. If not for them, then who? If only he had an idea... but wait, perhaps he did have one. After all, there was one other person close to him. He walked down the long, dark corridor to the teleport bay in silence. Speaking into his mask, so that no other device could pick it up:

"...This Unit wishes to always be able to assist Unit Locria."



Name: Tomanton
Level: 29
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Stalker
Primary: Ninja Blade
Secondary: Regeneration

It was a little known fact that on the red skinned race known as the Kosunn, the quality of their hair was a remarkably accurate indicator of their overall health. Hair products tended to have little to no effect on changing this- silky and thin was the picture of fitness, rough and tangled was a sign of seriously poor health. Tomanton's looked about ready to fall out.

He was collapsing under the weight of his own life. Earth was an incredible place, but the stress was overwhelming- protecting his own interests, looking after Kaloaten, being hunted by his father.. it was all too much. From the time he had gotten the invitation it had been read perhaps a hundred times- folded and unfolded almost as many, the letters were already beginning to fade out. He had to end this.

"I wish for a means to safely return home."

[ QUOTE ]
"I'm afraid I have never heard of Greensryche Industries," Dark Animator said with a sad smile.

[/ QUOTE ]

Lyden didn't find this to be too out of the ordinary. After all- Greensryche, unlike most of its competition, contracted their products on a client-to-client basis- most people wouldn't have heard of them unless they needed to. But with this person being the apparent leader of a decent-sized force, it was sort of odd..

[ QUOTE ]
"But that shouldn't matter. Why don't you assist our feathered friend along as we head a bit deeper into the woods. I sense an old magical battle there and its lingering aura will help muffle the sound of my transport scroll."

[/ QUOTE ]

Oh, the battle. He'd been there before, which meant he could help out.

"Understood. This unit has previously traversed stated area and is familiar with location. Proceeding."

How Lyden began off infront of the group couldn't quite be considered a march, but it was a very strong-looking walk, back straight, arms at his sides. If there was any time to make an impression it would be now.