You alive? Michael heard the voice from above him, but couldnt see anything.
I
It was all he could manage. His voice was near gone, his muscles ached and he felt like someone had run over him with a tank. The room was cold, but he was mostly numb. He could feel cold air on his toes, his fingertips, his knees. Then there was light with an audible snap.
Oh yeah, hes bad. How long did you leave him in there? The voice returned and the sounds of plastic on plastic could be heard.
I dont know, maybe twenty four hours. Man, theyre going to fire me for this, can you do something? The second voice sounded concerned, but not about him.
Dont worry, well get him up with the healing drugs then you can dump him in the arena. Itll all look like an accident. You know how those arenas are. The dampeners are turned down some to make the shows flashier, and in some places they dont work hardly at all. One more dead prisoner, no one will care. Besides, Im Jewish, Im not overly concerned about this nazi.
Great, Michael thought, then the stab in the chest with the needle. Not overly brutal, but not overly nice either. The pain was replaced with a burning. His jumper was slid onto him as he writhed around on the table in agony. He was wheeled out of the room at high speed and down a corridor where his vision started to return. He could see lights whipping by overhead.
When he stopped, he was helped off of the gurney by a guard and placed in the hands of two other guards. You have to be kidding. Ive never seen him before, theres no way hes up for this.
The guard behind him pushed him forward. He signed the waiver.
Yeah, the guard in front of him laughed, they all sign the waiver, thats not the question. This is an advanced match. He hasnt fought before, no ones going to buy this. Plus, just look at him. Hes all skin and bones, and he can barely stand. Get this child out of here.
The guard behind was just about to open his mouth to plead for a favor, when Michael made his case for him. He abruptly stopped leaning on the guards hands and stomped on the instep of the closest guard. He summoned up his strength and cut straight up with an elbow, then speared him in the throat with the webbing of his hand, knocking the guard down. The other tazed Michael in the side until he fell down.
Im not a child, Im an Archon of the Fifth Column! Michael seethed with hatred as he gasped for breath on his knees in the hallway.
The guard he struck got to his feet. He coughed a few times, then shook it off. With one, mighty grasp, Michael was on his feet. He was drug some twenty five feet by the hair on his head, until he finally made it to a set of double doors. Once inside, he could see various convicts in various stages of dress, all behind force field barriers. A huge man was busy pushing around the two who were on his side of the barrier. Youre next! Get ready!
The guard behind Michael just pushed him all the way to the giant man. No, hes next.
The big man took Michaels whole right arm in one hand. Then looked at the guard, then back to Michael. Alright
hes next.
Dr. Greene crawled off the floor of his shared cell. Apparently, his cellmate needed both beds. Oh well, he thought, it wasn't too bad. He had managed to escape with only a light beating.
But damn, he was exhausted.
After a few minutes, he heard again the noise that woke him: the clanging of a cell door being opened. This time it wasn't a guard standing in front of him, but a red and white-clad longbow patrolman.
"Get up, Greene," he spat, "You're going on a trip."
After another trip through the Zig's hellish labyrinth, they arrive at a huge circular pit, surrounded by concrete walls and chain link fences. But on the floor, was dirt.
"This is the Arena, Dr. Greene," the longbow explained with a nasty smile on his face, "And here we'll show you what we do to prisoners like you."
Dr. Greene was hardly listening. He stared at the dirt, searching out with the little power he could muster here for anything that could respond... anything...
"Ah, Dr. Greene," came a familiar mechanical voice from behind the doctor.
The Longbow standing on either side of the doctor stepped away as the Mastermind prototype moved forward and offered the man a steadying hand. A motion with the other hand ordered the two operatives to leave, which they did.
"Welcome to your first time at the Arena, Dr. Greene," the prototype said as it guided the man through a steel door and up a flight of stairs to the area above the Arena where the seats were.
The other several hundred prisoners moving to their seats were unusually quiet, the larger than average number of battle drones present giving them a feeling that something was up. The drones were stationed at the end of every row of seats and there was even a pair on the floor of the arena, watching the gates that would let the first contestants in.
The prototype led Dr. Greene to a bench next to a small hut structure that contained the controls to the dampener field around the Arena, private seats for the Warden and several others, and enough personnal shielding to turn it into a miniature fort should there be a breakout.
As the Warden personnaly attended every Arena fight, it was little surprise to see that he was already in the box and sitting with several other men, most of whom were elite guards equipped with Crey produced power suits and the training to match. The prototype exchanged a nod with the Warden and then moved to a position just flanking the box. It was its job to isolate the combatants should things get out of hand. There had yet to be a power dampened prisoner who could break out of the detention field the prototype's twin force field generators could produce.
"All drones are in place and my generators are at 100% efficiency, Warden," the prototype said over the comm line. "The last of the prisoners are filtering in. We may begin when ever you wish."
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
Penny got up, and had a moment to look around.
She was in a tiny cell, if it could be called a cell. It was really more like a tank, with gray metal walls north and south, and glowing force walls east and west.
In front of her was an arena. It could not be called anything else. It had a dirt floor, but its walls were clear - transparisteel, though she couldn't tell much else about it. Along one end of the arena were a series of red doors. Along the other end of the area were a series of blue doors. Her own "door," if it could be called that, was blue.
It looked as if the arena was divided into sections - she could count at least three. She was in the first section. This section had a dirt floor, and there looked like there were weapons around the walls: shields, blasters, swords, spears. Everything an Arena gladiator could ever want.
What alarmed her, however, were the stands. They were clearly cells, very small ones, with prisoners subdivided so they couldn't fight among each other. But the placement of the tiny cells made the prisoners look like what they were - an audience. In fact, she could see guards still moving prisoners into some of them. She could see - sort of - the other pens down her row, and saw with some surprised that other prisoners were being herded into them too. She noted that - like herself - they had been fitted with collars, and a big red square had been attached to the back of their jumpsuits. Pulling at her jumpsuit, she tried to read her number, but she couldn't see it.
She was distracted from this by a roar from the crowd. She turned to look, and saw that one of the the red doors was opening.
Beyond it was a - thing. A mechanical thing. She couldn't recognize it at first, and squinted at it, wishing for her glasses.
Then she recognized it. It had almost certainly begun its life as one of the robotic droids in use by the Council - no, she corrected herself, by the Fifth Column. The Council had rounded off those squarish nose-cones at once. This thing was old.
But it had been heavily modified. Its legs had been removed, and it had been fitted with treads, like a tank. It also seemed to have been fitted with every type of armament that Penny could think of. She could see multiple missle racks, guns of every conceivable description, ray beam emitters, laser diodes, and what looked suspiciously like flamethrower mounts.
The Arena, it seemed, had an announcer. For no sooner had this monstrosity entered the Arena than a voice boomed from overhead. "And now the Arena champion, victor of seventy-eight straight matches - the MARK IV EXECUTIONER!"
The prisoners cheered. Penny supposed that they liked the bloodshed - and she could see dried blood everywhere. She wondered if she would learn to like it too.
The force shield in front of her abruptly dissolved. At the same time, the shield behind her was moved forwards several feet, shoving her abruptly out into the Arena. "Aaaaand the challenger!" Roared the Announcer. "PRISONER 42200179!"
Again, the crowd cheered, which alarmed Penny far more than the monstrosity now rumbling to the center of the arena. Always shy, she was terribly nervous among crowds of people. The cheering so alarmed her, in fact, that her immediate reaction was to stand and stare, overcome with stagefright.
"Yes, automated combat is the purest combat of all!" Shouted the announcer to the cheers of the crowd. "Executioner, engage!"
It rumbled forwards threateningly. Penny was so absorbed that she barely ducked the spiked balls it threw at her. It seemed that the Executioner was programmed not to kill too fast, so as to give the audience a grand show.
"Executioner, cancel!" boomed the announcer. Executioner retreated back to the center of the arena, withdrawing the weapons it had extended.
From the top of the dome somewhere floated a little silver thing. This, she recognized when it was almost on top of her, was a camera. It looked like it had a microphone.
"If you want to beg for mercy, now is the time!" Boomed the voice of the announcer.
Penny looked around at the faces, and the big lumbering hulk in the center. She didn't want to be here. But what choice did she have? "Let's do it," she shrugged, and was startled to hear her voice magnified to almost the same volume as the announcers.
"Bravado!" cried the announcer. "But Bravado won't protect you from this! Executioner, engage!"
The former Mark VII Fifth Column combat droid rumbled forwards on its treads, shooting a long stream of flame to announce its coming. This time Penny was ready, and moved. The napalm liquified the metal balls which it had shot earlier, and left long flaming puddles in its wake. A moment later she heard the rattle of the chain guns, and increased her speed - it was deliberately missing. She still had to dive out of the way of the missle it fired next.
The missle missed. The shockwave didn't, as bits of shrapnel were scattered in every direction. Penny was picked up and blown across the arena to land hard against one of the walls, sliding down rather limply to the ground.
Her ears were ringing, her head was spinning - she couldn't remember where she was, or what she was doing. But then she felt the rumble behind her, and it all came back. She looked up to see she was facing a clear wall. There were things strapped to it - a shield and heavy duty blaster were the closest. The sight of them brought back her situation with a rather sickening swoop.
Neither the blaster nor the shield would do her any good, she thought despairingly. The former Mark VII Fifth Column combat droid, in its change to the Executioner, had had such thick armor plating put on it, simply to be able to withstand the backlash from its own weapons, that there was no way a hand weapon could -
Wait. Former Mark VII Fifth Column combat droid?
And she had it suddenly, like a shooting star that flashed through her mind, leaving her blinking and coated with stardust. She realized what they had done, what they had to have done, to make the Executioner into the monster that it become - and the weakness it had to have.
She grabbed for the shield, but it stuck. She had to give it an enormous tug to free it, and when she had it free, it was much heavier than she thought it would be. She overbalanced and fell, and the shield stuck with a THUD in the dirt. A moment later it was blown back into her as the line of slugs went right across it. She was blown back into the wall, and heard a sickening CRACK. She had broken something, but she couldn't immediately tell what. There was far too much adrenaline in her system now to be able to distinguish what was hurt. That wouldn't last long, but for now it might keep her alive. She tugged at the blaster, and it came off easily in her hand. Luckily the Executioner chose to throw more spiked balls. One of these barely crossed her leg, leaving a trail of warm, wet liquid squishing in her shoe, but she didn't have time to pay attention to that either.
She planted the shield in the dirt and braced it, with her feet against the wall. The shield deflected the flamethrower nicely, and something else that made a huge BONG and another dent when it hit. More slugs followed, but this time Penny was prepared for them, and held the shield better. She could hear the Executioner rumbling closer.
She had a chance to check the blaster. As she had hoped, it was really a small-vehicle weapon, and fully charged. She held the shield grimly as more volleys bounced off of it. The Executioner was still rumbling towards her. The shield was heating up, getting hard to hold, and warping alarmingly from the beating it was taken, with bits and pieces shot off.
Finally she could wait no longer. The shield wouldn't hold. She waited until she could hear the hum of the Executioner switching weapons, and then stood and hefted the shield with all of her might. The Executioner turned briefly, blasting the shield to ribbons with a spectacular display of laser weaponry.
It was enough. While the Executioner was distracted, Penny charged it, and flung herself down under its treads. It didn't stop in time, and rolled directly over where she lay.
Not one of the big men, muscular villians, or super-strength prisoners that the Executioner had killed could have tried such a stunt and lived. But Penny was small enough to fit in the gap between the two tank treads, and when it rolled over her, she found herself looking at its belly.
The belly that had once belonged to a former Mark VII Fifth Column combat droid, and which still bore the original markings - including the maintenance panel, complete with handle. She reached up and grabbed it, holding on with all of her might.
The Executioner stopped, confused. It had learned any number of ways to kill its opponents, using slow and painful methods. But no one had taught it how to attack something which was positioned between its own treads. No one had shown it how to cut at itself, or hack at itself, or blast something it couldn't reach. Penny had found the only safe spot in the entire arena. The Executioner rumbled back and forth, confused.
They had vented the old panel, which was logical, but more than Penny had dared to hope for. It was difficult to manipulate the blaster with one hand, while being dragged around. It took several minutes to get the blaster set to overload. When it finally made its high-pitched, warning whine, she put the muzzle of the blaster against the venting holes which had been cut out of the panel, and turned her face away as much as she could.
On her left hand side, a star suddenly burst into life in a single glorious moment of brilliance. She had expected the pain from her hand, and when she looked back she saw that the barrel of the blaster was now white-hot and melting, and even the handle had reddened. She had an instant to register the image before reflexes took over and she flung it away with a cry of pain, her eyes watering. There was a hole in the panel. Not large... but large enough for her arm.
The arm of the jumpsuit didn't offer much protection. Gritting her teeth, she tried to avoid the molten metal as she reached a hand through, grabbed a handful of wires, and yanked hard. The Executioner emitted an electronic scream, whipping around, but failing to dislodge her. It wasn't until the third or fourth handful that she could distinguish the voice of the announcer, barely audible over the rumble of the Executioner's treads: "Executioner, cancel! Cancel!"
The Executioner paid no heed. Much of its complicated voice-command circuitry lay on the Arena floor in bright bits of twisted yellow and red.
Penny growled, pushing her hand in further and feeling around. The wire was all very interesting, but it wasn't what she wanted, if she could only reach far enough - Ha! She had been right.
There were fluidics after all.
Even with the whirling, it didn't take her long to find the releases. Whoever had made it had replaced the time-consuming ratchet gaskets with finger-released ones, something she herself would have done, knowing the misery of trying to service a ratchet-gasket fluidic.
She worked from the top down, as high as she could reach, trying not to let any of the heated liquids get onto her skin. The first fluidic released a gush of fortunately-cool water: the second was scalding, the third almost steam. She could only release five or six before she had to withdraw her hand, crying from the pain, trying to move to shield herself from the output of the vent now. She hoped it would be enough.
The Executioner went completely mad.
As Penny had suspected, the machine produced staggering amounts of heat. In seconds, four other fluidics had burst, unable to cope with the stress placed upon them. The Executioner left long trails of bright pink fluid in its wake as it charged randomly around. It discharged every weapon it possessed - the worst thing it could have done, but then it was no longer capable of considering its actions. Missles flew into the air to burst harmlessly against the transparisteel dome of the Arena. Bullets ricocheted in every direction. Sheets of flame rose and fell, pierced by lasers, microwaves, and rays in every shade of the rainbow.
Finally the Executioner focused upon a target for its robotic wrath. The malfunctioning AI determined that the greatest threat in the arena was a section of unoffending wall. The Executioner roared off in search of vengeance, and Penny decided - correctly - that it was simply time to let go. Again the treads passed over her, as the tank thundered away, its original opponent forgotten.
The adrenaline was wearing off. She was hurting now. But she could make it - she had to make it. She had no choice.
The Mark IV Executioner, victor of seventy-eight arena matches, disappeared in the center of a truly spectacular explosion, just as Prisoner 42200179, staggered rather unsteadily to the opposite wall. The shockwave caught her hard and she lay where she fell, semiconscious, the pieces of her former opponent raining down around her ears.
Penny didn't know it yet, but she had made it to Round 2 - and won the right to fight other prisoners.
((Hmm, having a hard time making sense of gladiator fights in a modern prison...thought this'd be more of a "you two have problems? Fight it out" kinda thing. But post to come, no worries. No need to wait up for me, either.))
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Michael took the shield, sword and blaster off of the wall. He put the shield on his left arm, and held the sword, point down in his left hand, so that the shield blocked the blade from view. He powered up the blaster and prepared for combat, but when he walked out, he was surprised to see a friend instead of an enemy.
Eight eight four dash six one six! Michael was looking at the modified droid, trying to remember its access codes when he heard his number in the announcers voice. At the start command, whirling blades of death shot out of the front panel of the droid. Michael dodged right, but one of the blades imbedded itself into his shield and spun him to the earth. He landed in a cloud of dust and got up quickly.
Uh, Anhalten. Halten Sie an! Ich befehle Ihnen anzuhalten! Michael heard the announcer ask if he wished to beg for mercy as the droid postured. Michael took aim at the camera above him and let a blast fly into its shield.
Oh, theres some spunk in this kid!
Again with the kid. Michael ran toward the droid. Eingeweihtes Protokoll vier sieben sechs drei!
Then the droid did something its handlers hadnt seen before. It paused. Then it powered up a circular saw arm and came slashing at Michael.
Wartung! Wartungsprotokoll vier neun! The droids treads paused, but its arms kept swinging at him.
Michael was struck in the shield, but part of the blade cut enough into the shield to catch a bit of his bicep. He rolled away and shouted again. Archon überreiten! Pegasus! Öffnen Sie Hauptkernluke!
A small panel popped open on the left side of the droid, and its head looked down to see what was happening. Michael fired two blaster shots into the hatch and the resulting explosion sent him into the force field and down onto the dirt. A line of blood appeared on his right cheek and his clothes were caught on fire in places. Pieces of burning droid were lying around him. Sohn einer ****.
Michael slowly pushed himself up to his knees. Were it not for the regenerative elixir he was given prior to this arena combat, hed have succumb to his wounds before the first blow was struck. As it was, he could feel the regenerative powers wearing off, and was patting himself out and looking for the sword and blaster he dropped, knowing that it was less than likely it was over.
Although it had been ordered not to be concerned about the extravagence of the arena nor the obviously illegal sport that it condoned, the prototype still had to wonder where the funding for all this came from and who was responsible for all this.
No sooner had the remains of the first warmachine been cleared, its explosion muffled by a hefty application of shield power, then the second prisoner had been thrust out and into the arms of the Mark III Executioner. Odds that the prisoner would survive steadily decreased, in the prototype's eyes, and it took a moment to send a transmission to Gears, the guard who oversaw the modifications that most of the non-sentient robotic prisoners recieved.
It would seem that the program you concocted to change the alleigance of the 5th Column androids has worked well, said the prototype, its words appearing on the PDA Gears always carried around with a slight chime. However it would also be best to simply erase the entire program and upload the android with something harder to decieve. If you aren't yet watching the Arena, I would suggest you do so now. Your pet Executioners are having more trouble than you would think.
Turning its attention back to its duties, and ordering a drone to incapacitate prisoner 43658-90 for trying to start a fight, the prototype watched Michael fight, analyzing and compiling this example of 5th Column training applied to advanced medieval weaponry in action.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
Blind Messenger hummed lightly in his little 'cell,' smiling widely as each MK went down, one by one.
He was smacked in the side of the skull by a stick, his grin fading only slightly.
"Shut it, you pile of molded bones. If you don't, I will ensure you don't make it out of the arena alive."
"Right, and how do you plan on doing that?" the necromancer asked, a little too kindly, "Especially when I have the powers of darkness and undeath on my side? I've been in here a lot more than even you probably have, kiddo."
Another smack to the skull caused it to spin all the way in a three-sixty-degree. He sighed, glancing upward, awaiting his turn in line.
Shadowshock could hear the rumblings. The Arena. He wasn't welcome there. As a former Family thug, he was pretty much exempt. They pulled strings to keep it that way.
That wouldn't last much longer. Sooner or later, word would get around to hsi former bosses that the guards wanted to see him in action. They'd inform said guards that he wasn't udner their protection anymore.
"Too noisy," he muttered, "I'm too noisy out there... In here... Can't afford to be noisy..."
He heard the thunder of a cluster of booms. Various prisoners who weren't on the "List" grumbled about how they were missing the action.
Shadowshock had never been on the "List." You had to have been to the Arena to get on it. A few Family boys wound up on it anyway, but only so they could inform the bosses about teh bets they'd placed.
There was a loud thumping on the wall next to him.
"Hey, newbie..." he heard a muffled male voice rumble through to him, "Newbie? you hear me?"
"I'm not a newbie," he yelled back, "I've been here a long while."
"I figured they'd send a newbie into Ryuu's cell... Oh well. What's yer name?"
"Non'ya."
"Non'ya?"
"None ya God damn business!"
"Oh..." the voice seemed amused, "A funny man. Hotaka might like you. Me? I'm Power Breaker."
"Power Breaker... You're the guy who just kinda showed up, huh? No parade... No nothing."
"Maybe I'll tell ya the story... If I feel you should know, and if ya ask real nice..."
"Stories are like [censored]," Shadowshock replied as he rolled over, "Everybody's got one, and none of them are much good. I just want to get some sleep..."
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Ryuu Hotaka would not be going into a 'Round One' match - not after what he'd done to the last automaton they'd sent up against the guy.
Nobody quite knew what he'd actually done to it, as the arena's lighting system as well as every other piece of monitoring had inexplicably failed for thirteen seconds that day. Even the transparent dome had become somehow opaque (at least if one chose to believe the prisoners who'd been sitting next to it at the time; most people just said the sudden absence of light had played tricks on their eyes).
Regardless of how it had been done, once people could see again, the robot had been literally flattened, lying pitifully on the ground in a metal pancake of amalgamated parts and plating. If people hadn't known better, it had almost looked like some giant foot had just plain-old stepped on it...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Twilit was herded into a cell with two to four people in it depending on whether or not you count multiple personalities. He had seen these matches in previous visits here, sometimes thankfull he wasn't in, sometimes just wanting to beat the living **** out of something. This was one of those days.
"The hell does a guy have to do to get in there?! (*@&@^@%!)! Just let me in there with ol' bonesy and I'll show him not to cross me..."
He knew that Corssbones was on the "List" and past few hours hadn't gone as planned. Even though the two agreed to be civil, several disputes between them had occured, one over bunks, one when Crossbones insulted Twilit's group, and one when Crossbones called Twilit a sniveling coward in reference to him leaving the Skulls.
"Hey ****head, you going to shut up so we can watch the match? The first time since that Tsoo guy got in there that we've seen anyone win so----"
The guy didn't finish that sentence before he was on the ground. Twilit caught him off guard and brought him to the floor with a haymaker to the jaw. By the time he felt a bit less stressed the guy had blood dripping from his mouth, nose, and his arm snapped at the elbow.
He knew a droid was probably coming but hopefully that was enough for a small place on the "List".
Although Penny had been the first to win her "round one" match, she was not the first to be pushed into the "round two" section of the arena. The doctors saw her first. A splint on her broken arm and a large cup of regenerative syrup was considered sufficient medical attention, and as soon as she was on her feet again, she was shoved into the new area.
It took her a moment to coalesce her thoughts. The syrup was powerful stuff, and while it would heal her broken arm in few minutes, it did tend to make one rather light headed.
When the sensation cleared, she looked around to see where she was. This was a much smaller section, but looked more lethal. The floor had been made into uneven sections, with nasty falls in awkward places, holes which looked suspiciously as if they held spikes, and other nervewracking things. Not a great place to fight.
For she was certainly here to fight: she had been given a blaster, but no shield, which was a relief as she found them large and awkward. She wondered if the suppression fields were off in this area, She suspected that they were but, having no powers herself, she had no way to tell.
There were a couple of prisoners here already. Michael was here, and an oriental gentlemen she didn't know. She nodded at both of them rather nervously.
Blind glanced out to the Round Two arena, his head jerking to the side as he spotted Penny. He grinned, eager to watch what was going to happen next... Maybe he--
He didn't get a chance to finish the thought as he was shoved forward. "Your turn for the first round, you [censored].... I can't wait to see you torn limb from limb."
"Well, technically, I--"
Blind was in the arena before he finished talking.
Glancing around, he could see nothing... No robot, no lions, as he had expected there to be before, no nothing... Were they playing games with him?
The microphone smacked into his skull, causing a ringing sensation within as he stumbled to gain his balance.
"Ah, look what we have! The necromancer Blind Messenger, as usual, covering his sordid face!" the announcer seemed to scream over the comm, causing laughter and cheering in the crowd. "Now, will you beg for mercy, scum?"
Blind lowered his face to the mic., and grinned. "Nope, and I intend to eat your face as soon as this is over."
Silence... Then howls of laughter from the prisoners. The microphone swung into his face, causing him to stumble again, and retracted.
Blind Messenger then felt the familiar feeling of a sense... The darkness inside of him grouped into his eye sockets, and a slight outline approached him from the other side of the arena... not very big, but VERY fast.
He leaped to the side, sliding and avoiding the... well, whatever it was, by only a few inches. The thing turned, and ran again. This gave Messenger a few moments to identify it.
It seemed to be an abnormally large dog, most likely part-wolf, but it had stealth capabilities. Whatever it was, it didn't look happy to see him.
He launched forward, landing on the dog-thing, and leaping in a spinning action again to avoid getting ripped apart.
"Wow, who knew such a thing like that could be so dexterous? Well, let's see if our Stealth-Wolf can bury this fiend of bones!"
That made the necromancer chuckle slightly.
The wolf turned, and ran, but this time, he was ready.
He brought his hand up, and a single zombie encased in black and brown rotting armour leaped from a darkened portal, blocking the thing with his blade. The knight pushed it away, then went for a stab as it stumbled.
Blind, meanwhile, fell to the ground, panting hard. Odd, as he had no organs, but still. That had taken a LOT out of him, and he only summoned one!
The knight struck downward, missing the wolf's head by inches, and the canine leaped forward, cutting the skeleton's armour in half. The knight recoiled, brought his blade up in defense, and backed up.
The wolf attempted to leap over him to the necromancer, but his blade was faster, striking the creature in the stomach. Blood poured over the undead as the wolf whined in pain, spinning to land on his feet. It quickly struck, causing the unprepared knight to fall back. That gave the wolf the opening to destroy its skull, thereby killing it.
The creature turned, and Messenger grinned. He raised an arm, began levitating in the air...
...And screams emenated through the arena.
Purple and yellow bolts of energy left his skeletal arms, gripping the creature tightly as the souls began leeching the thing's life force away. One of the souls got inside the wound that the knight had created, and the canine whined and writhed.
The thing's eyes bulged largely, then, greusomely, the head exploded in a rain of brain, cartilage, and soul energy.
Blind grinned again, then fell to the ground, moaning.
"...Well, he didn't have to be so violent... But the Necro-noob wins!"
Blind glanced over at the announcer's box, scowled, and stood, walking out to his waiting cell again.
"Ah, is is you." Hotaka commented with a wry smirk to Penny, "I see they were successful in removing the unremovable armor. A shame..."
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Michael was relieved of his sword and shield as he passed into the danger room setting that they were using as the next staging area.
He began to look around at the other two contestants and powered up his blaster. His brain began to pick through the various obstacles between himself and the asian man, whom he did not know. He never looked at Penny, he just stared at the unknown factor. He had a suspicion that they would either be fighting each other, or some outside force.
Either way, it didnt make sense to move toward Penny. If he were going to protect her, the best thing he could do is not draw fire to her location. Michael began to become obsessed with what knowledge could be stored within the girl, and how that knowledge would benefit the Fifth Column.
The guards started to hustle Dr. Greene down towards the area where the fighters were lined up. One of the guards leaned over and whispered nastily into his ear, "The warden wants to see if your blood really is blue."
Dr. Greene just looked towards the control box with an image of pure arrogant contempt on his face. Truth be told, he was looking foreward to getting into the arena. It had been a long time since he had felt the earth under him, and it's children pulsing and flowing with him... He was ready to fight.
[ QUOTE ]
"Ah, is is you." Hotaka commented with a wry smirk to Penny, "I see they were successful in removing the unremovable armor. A shame..."
[/ QUOTE ]
She shuddered a little at the remark - she was not yet ready to discuss how the armor had been removed.
A shame? She thought about this. "I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "That doctor - Blade - " She shuddered a bit at the name, but went on, " - he's already dead, and I am not sorry for that. I suppose," her face was almost meditative in its thoughtfulness, "That that means I belong here."
She was not afraid in this place, not for herself at any rate. It was as if his comment had contained an underlying meaning for her, and she was musing on its consequences.
Ms. Marrow watched the various prisoners fight their way past the first round- a little disappointed in the lack of blood. Robots were so unreliable... She was in the stands, along with countless other inmates. She hadn't been chosen for an arena match, though that was sure to change soon. Marrow concentrated, blocking out the screams of the crowd. The lockdown fields were weaker in this place, she could feel it. How much power she could access was difficult to determine, and she wasn't about to try summoning something in front of so many gaurds and witnesses. Marrow looked down into the pit as the second rounds started. Three prisoners were preparing for battle; two of which she could recognize as sharing the holding cell with her previously. All three were obviously skilled... perhapes if Marrow was lucky, one of them would be killed. If she had a fresh corpse, she could easily determine how much of her power was still useable. Now with a purpose, she leaned forward eagerly to await the outcome.
[ QUOTE ]
"That that means I belong here."
[/ QUOTE ]
Hotaka smiled generously. Now all the little pieces came together. Things so minute a normal human would never even notice them. But then, Ryuu wasn't.
And now he knew what to teach.
She had an energy pulse gun. The Archon had one too. Not much of a threat there. The arena floor itself was the only dangerous thing right now.
The threat had been assessed. It was minimal.
"Then let us begin." Hotaka declared, his smile becoming a slight grin as he cracked his knuckles...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
[ QUOTE ]
Hotaka smiled generously. Now all the little pieces came together. Things so minute a normal human would never even notice them. But then, Ryuu wasn't.
And now he knew what to teach.
She had an energy pulse gun. The Archon had one too. Not much of a threat there. The arena floor itself was the only dangerous thing right now.
The threat had been assessed. It was minimal.
"Then let us begin." Hotaka declared, his smile becoming a slight grin as he cracked his knuckles...
[/ QUOTE ]
Penny bowed to him politely.
She knew, of course, that she had little chance against him beyond, perhaps, sheer luck.
But it couldn't be helped now. She supposed it must be ridiculous, at such a time and in such a place, to subscribe to any principles of honor: but it was so deeply ingrained in her that she didn't have it in herself to leave them now.
The bow completed, she stood and waited for him to come at her.
+++++
Elsewhere in the prison, Gears had not appeared at the arena to watch the matches. He had not responded to the summons by the prototype, nor even replied to the message. Such a lack of response was absolutely uncharacteristic of him.
But perhaps it was understandable.
He had not, after all, received the message in the first place: his blackberry beeped disconsolately where it lay on the floor, some three feet from his outstretched hand. The elevator doors endlessly opened and closed on his left ankle. There wasn't a mark on him, unless you counted the vivid purple of his face, still stretched into a grotesque expression of horror.
Gears was dead.
Michael began picking through cover. He leaped on panels he suspected would give way or slide open, prepared to suddenly pull his weight off. He used pits for cover and began moving toward the center of the three, hoping to draw fire from the unknown factor.
He paused to fire off a few blasts at the Asian man. Even if he hit, he didn't particularly think it was going to do anything. More than anything, he was trying to give Penny a chance. Even at that, he thought it was hopeless. The concoction he'd been given was already starting to wear off. The pain and stiffness was returning. It wouldn't be long now, before he was rendered useless without his enemies having to fire a shot, or throw a punch.
[[I hope no one minds if I join in.]]
Anthony Ryttel, or TechClaw Assassin outside of the Zig, studied the heavy metal gauntlets on his hands, protecting th guards from his claws, he had been with the fellow inmates that had recently join the Zig, their names burned into his mind.
Around him, people chanted as the people down in the pit fought each other in a Gladiator-like match, adverting his grey eyes from his gauntlets, he stared at a man with a blaster aiming at an Asain man, Anthony shook his head solemnly as he stood up and scanned the room, examining the locations of the guards.
"Ah, we would like me to make the first move?" Hotaka chuckled, "Very well."
Hotaka ducked low in a flash, easily weaving away from Michael's blasts, lifting his left foot and driving it back onto the dirt with force.
The earth seemed to explode under his foot, a quickly propgating fissure of rock making its way to Penny in only a heartbeat with the intent of knocking her down.
This didn't seem to be the point, however, as Hotaka leaped from his position not a moment later, following the wave with almost the same speed...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
Michael spotted a pit between Penny and Hotaka as the super leaped into the air. Michael took a knee and waited until Hotaka was directly over the pit, and fired off a burst intended to knock him off course. He winced, even as he knelt, with the pain that was returning to him. It took all of his strength to put his shots on target.
Shadowshock watched them lead his new cellmate away. He had a few ideas as to where they took him. None of them were good. Still, rumor had it Hotaka had been to Hell and back, so maybe he'd be fine.
He never got a straight answer... Damn Freedom Corps... Damn guards... Crazy thing was, Shadowshock had no clue what the Path of the Dragon demanded of its followers, so he had no idea whether or not the bunk that was made was Hotaka's, or the bare one.
"Dammit... I hate paradoxes..." he rubbed his temples, "Especially these ones born of ignorance."
But he was too tired to not sleep. What a night... He briefly wondered how his mark was doing. She seemed too waifish, to small...
Small?
He tried to run her image through his mind again. It was too brief... Too filled with red...
That had been happening a lot. Losing his temper. He didn't know if it was a side effect of the drug keeping his "powers" dormant, or if it was some residue of the powers still bleeding through the barrier.
"[censored] it," he grumbled and took the unmade bunk.
Even if he was wrong, Hotaka wouldn't have to go through the trouble of remaking this bunk... Unless... He did have to... Because it was unclean?
Shodowshock grumbled again to himself. He couldn't shake this weird feeling. Something was strange... Something was in the air.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.