Fandom A Midnight Dance with Death(IC)

[FactionParadox]

"Damn you... Damn you, Johnny Joestar!" Valentine roared as he felt himself being dragged back towards the same place, digging his fingers into the loosening Earth. He had to stop this infinite rotation, no matter what body he transferred to, it still affected his Stand Ability. It was when the blonde President noticed a figure approaching, apparently unfazed by the shifting of the lands caused by D4C Love Train that made everything approach him. He would overcome this, this fool would be a meat shield for Joestar's next bullets.

"D4C!" The man shouted, the blue leproid-eared ability attempted to chop the approaching masked figure in strange attire that reminded him of his associate Blackmore, but he wasn't strong enough to resist as he faded into unconsciousness. He woke up with some sort of collar-like device around his neck and handcuffs on his wrists in an unbearably hot room. Refusing to comment while the others argued among themselves, he was busy trying to quantify the situation. Was this the result of an enemy Stand Ability, perhaps some terrorist opposed to his mission involving the Saint's Corpse? Moreover... Why wasn't he being torn apart by the Infinite Rotation, he seemed perfectly fine and even healthy.

Before he could answer his questions, he suddenly reappeared somewhere else, much to his displeasure. Before Funny were quite the eclectic and bizzare collection of individuals. Some were visibly human, others not so. All very loud, irritating and quite possibly stupid. To fight back against their captors with such little information was suicide as he walked over to the collection of weapons, many beyond his 19th Century frame of understanding as he grabbed his revolver. If they were supposed to fight each other, so be it. He'd return home a hero, he'd survived the Civil War. Wiping out these freaks and the fools who opposed him would be a joy.

 

[darkred]

>>Marcus Wright>>

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The terminator wasn't exactly pleased with the situation he found himself in, but the more he found if he resisted against the imposing figure, the more he could end up as a mess like the man Richard turned into as a example.

Marcus picked up his weapons and frowned, still cold and angry like the terminator he was.

He simply eyed the magic portals as he frowned. Just like that, he placed two more figures from wherever in danger with them.

He grunted and shook his head, frustrated.

The thought of Blair dying made him angry,
The thought of Connor dying, even more angry but he didn't deserve this shit either because of him.

The two new figures, one looked human (Travis) and the other was strange. (Valentine)

Even though he'd killed, he never wanted to watch others die by a forced hand.

He squeezed his fist "Damnit.."

MidwayLives FactionParadox Ringrose BuggaBoo jump.​

---

 

[nocchi]

{BGM: The Young Descendant of Tepes}

A lithe frame had been levitating in scarlet twilight, wings making a circle with their edges as she sustained her weight there. This Shrine Maiden was proving to be quite a difficult challenger, albeit, impressive. A plethora of ofuda had entrapped the maiden in a ring, a circle of light blasting from its center. The aloft red fog was beginning to disperse now in pacing with her slowly but surely decreasing strength. Remilia's chest was rising and falling unrhythmically, breaths huffed through narrow nostrils as she glared at the miko before her. "The proud Remilia Scarlet can't be defeated by the likes of this Shrine Maiden....!" She assesses silently amidst her own thoughts, teeth beginning to grind now. She took her lower lip and pinned it beneath the sharp of an elongated fang.

Noting that, the vampire mistress was certain the stops she'd have to pull for the other to forfeit by means of death.

"Scarlet Meister!" Remilia cried, arms outstretching at her sides as if readied to be staked to a cross. A large decagram would halo her silhouette, plentiful, luminescent orbs wildly spinning from it in an entrancing array in a wide spiral. Such an attack proved to be exasperating for the already damaged Remilia, her eyebrows coming to knit as it continued. The light of her own summoned orbs surrounded her, the light cascading over her vision. There was exhaustion, there was numbness, and then... nothing.

{BGM end}

"Kch!" The dame grunted instinctively as she hit the solid of unknown ground; her deep red eyes darted about. That damned Shrine Maiden was nowhere to be found. She would attempt to push herself from the ground, although was quickly made aware of the metal binding them—proving the task to be a slight struggle. Once she had sat up she took in the unfamiliar setting, cryptically dim and unbearably hot. She was aware of the pressure at her neck, looking down to confirm what it was. As she had thought, it was a collar, a compliment to the handcuffs at her wrists. "Is this defilement her doing?!" She asked herself silently, looking for any sight of her. Yet her presence never made itself known.

Instead, there were others around her, people which she couldn't recognize by scent, voice, or appearance. Her wings flapped as if to insinuate both inquisitiveness about her current whereabouts, as well as impatience and entitlement to figure it out. She took in the faces of the figures around her. Judging by their scent, a fair share of them were human. The bridge of her nose crinkled a bit with disgust, although saliva pooling with stirring temptation. She gulped. "Where am I?'" Remilia would ask anyone willing to answer in a demanding, boisterous belt, the clack of her teeth alluding to an entitlement to know. She spoke in a sharp tone, although contradicted by a gentle lull that made her sound as if she was sleepy.

scarlet devil

remilia.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Funnier President]

Yoshikage Kira

The stand user did not like his current circumstances. After a brief encounter with..... well, something he presumed to be like his own Killer Queen, he was sedated, and captured. bound to the wall by his wrists, and with an uncomfortable collar placed on his neck, he was practically about to have a nervous breakdown before himself and the other captives were thrown out of the room they were kept in.

Landing uncomfortably on the solid ground, with a small girl with hands that didn't interest him the slightest onto of him, the serial killer took a few deep breaths before looking around at the individuals with a cold look in his eye. As if he was figuring out how to kill each and every one of them. The look was gone from his eye however, as the others with him started to speak. the presumably "American jackass" speaking out, wondering if they were in some sort of "survival game." Sweat began to build up on the mans brow. Oh, he hoped that wasn't the case. As the small child on his back began to speak, he didn't not answer her question, but simply asked in a cold voice

"Please get off me."

All of this wasn't good for his mental health, with was fringed enough from being a killer.

Ringrose , nocchi​

 

[MidwayLives]

"I'd love to, but I guess you aren't into the idea of mutually killing each other."

Christof lightly shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes yes, I suppose you have a point there, Mr. Touchdown! The less of you that die, the better the chances are of you all accomplishing what I ask of you."

He didn't spare a word to the rest of those who'd been dumped in alongside Travis. Instead, he merely gave a nod of the head and Unity closed the remaining portal.
​

"If I wasn't under the threat of death you'd be getting a nice close-up of my Beam Katana. But I guess I've never been thrown into a survival game before like in anime, so there is that. That is what this is, right? I'm on the money?" he asked the German.

"Scary."

Christof said with the brightest of smiles even if Travis couldn't see it.

The aura radiating off the word alone carried the sarcasm well enough.

"Ah, well I suppose the secondary goal is for you to do your best to survive, yes. But I gathered you all here because there are certain 'loose ends' that I need to be tied off. You're going to be the ones to do it." Shooting a glance at Hei and Nagant in particular, the latter of whom still seemed perturbed by Richard's sudden and grotesque death right before all of their eyes. "Some of you I'm sure are no stranger to killing when it's asked of you. Without resting too much on every detail, the powers that the doctor, Vinci, and myself possess came natural to us." Though something like Vinci was about as far from 'natural' as you could get.

"In the universe you're currently in, we refer to such powers as 'Gifts'. Mine is called 'Confidence', Nocturne's is 'Ace' and...Well." He held his hand out towards Nocturne.

Only for Hei to interject.



"These abilities of yours...The one that let you shrug off that guy's knives. You said they were 'natural.' So why would something like that-" Hei pointed sharply at Vinci who was currently resuming his position back by the staircase, seeming none worse for wear other than a sliced open throat. "-Have powers or anything like that?"

Nocturne looked over the 'spares' that he'd had Vinci capture in case the current batch weren't up to snuff.

"Perhaps you'd somehow misheard the good sir, Hei. Vinci is made up of those who came before you and your peers. Their abilities became his. A gift is tied to one's soul and when the pieces were put together, my perfect creation was born." Nocturne sneered. "It's also why Vinci has more than 'one' gift. Normally, you're stuck with the one you're born with but Vinci's soul allows him to tap into the different gifts of the....unfortunate souls that make up his being."

Vinci slowly nodded to confirm.



Hei said nothing.

But his feelings were clear enough.

That thing needed to be put down. For good.

Before he ended up part of the next 'Vinci.'​

~~~~

Judging by their scent, a fair share of them were human. The bridge of her nose crinkled a bit with disgust, although saliva pooling with stirring temptation. She gulped. "Where am I?'" Remilia would ask anyone willing to answer in a demanding, boisterous belt, the clack of her teeth alluding to an entitlement to know. She spoke in a sharp tone, although contradicted by a gentle lull that made her sound as if she was sleepy.

Nocturne fielded this question and couldn't help his laughter.

"Tchehehehehe, why you're right where you need to be! Don't you remember your encounter, my dear?"

Vinci moved to step over towards Remilia, the stench of rot wafting off the undead as it looked down at the vampire.

It's milky-white eyes hidden away from sight by the clouded over lenses of the gas mask stuck over it's face.

"not.....fast enough."

Nocturne clasped his hands together. "You were actually one of the first of the 'spares' that I had Vinci grab. Your capability for destruction is quite incredible! I'm certain it'll be more than enough to complete the tasks that my benefactor has for you all.~"

Speaking of that...



"Thank you, Nocturne. Now, as previously stated this isn't the first attempt I've had. You can see the remains of that right there." He meant obviously referring to Vinci. "When I saw that those from my own world simply weren't up to the task, it was a blessing that Nocturne came across this dark star in his research." Christof reached out to grab Unity by the arm and pull him up into the air, the child barely coming up to the man's waist. "Strong as an ox, durable as a tank, and capable of reaching into other worlds. A perfect fit for my needs. For why continue to waste the lives of denizens from here when I could simply pull in those from another world altogether? Whatever impact your sudden 'departure' has had means nothing! You're hopelessly condemned to follow my orders and isn't that just perfect?"



Nagant had seen and even killed her fair share of villains. But to meet one that she was not only:

-at the mercy of
-absolutely gleeful at the thought of using a child as a means to an end
-seemingly untouchable.

It made her blood boil.

"I might only get one chance to say this so I'll say it now."

Christof still hadn't let go of Unity. "Hm? Well, then by all means share with the rest of us, Nagant." Christof ran a finger over his scarf. "Unless you're planning to pull on a repeat performance of trying to kill me in some half-cooked attempt to free yourself? You...aren't are you?" Christof prodded knowing damn well what the answer was.

"You can go ahead and kill me if you want. It'd probably make enough people happy." So many skeletons in her own closet and such.

"But why isn't the boy wearing a collar? What have you done to him?"

Christof seemed....almost disappointed that had been Nagant's concern. "Done? Absolutely nothing. Unity serves me of his own free will. In this world he needs somebody that can read his spells in order to pull off the stunts you just bore witness to. I provided that resource in Nocturne and thus the boy obeys. Sometimes the stick is used but other times the carrot is just fine, Nagant." Christof said with narrowed eyes as he gently set Unity back down. The child said nothing in either response to Nagant's question or Christof's answer.

Nagant glared.

Christof put up his hands. "I see you're not convinced. That's fine. You can ask the boy yourself if you'd like. He's coming along with you all, as is Vinci." The monitor behind Christof shifted to show what looked like a frozen over an army base with soldiers patrolling the grounds outside the front gate. "Gifts are a natural phenomena where I hail from, everyone has the potential to unlock theirs but most can't do it! They lack the one thing to reach it! They lacked killer instinct! It's something I was called in to assist a special unit of the US Army known as the 'The Gifted'. All went well and those under my command and training grew to be perfect soldiers..." Christof frowned and began pulling back his scarf. "Until one of the young men and women under my command grew tired of taking orders and instead preferred to give them..." The scarf was dropped to the ground and Guzma shrieked in horror.

"UGH! FRIGGIN SICK!"

The left side of Christof's jaw was exposed revealing the bone underneath. Areas around where the flesh ended were a light blue, indicating hints of frostbite. "He called himself 'Zeke' and he took over the base with his gift: [Icy Heart]. THIS is what it did to me." He opened up his jacket and the horror show continued. A quarter of skin from his right pectoral and down to his waist was covered in deep jagged scars from what looked like attempting to peel himself free of ice. "You asked if this was a game of some kind, Mr. Touchdown? I'll tell you all that this IS no game. I want you to destroy this group once and for all!"

Hei sighed.

Superpowered soldiers turned superpowered terrorists that needed to be killed. Great.

Ringrose nocchi FactionParadox Clan Ize Fuyou-Kay darkred BuggaBoo jump. Funnier President Sleek Squad141 Stricken Steel​

 

[Ringrose]

Travis listened intently to the story of his captors. A woman named Nagant, who was SMOKING hot by the way, was getting upset over the boy being used as a pawn by this Christof guy. Internally he appreciated her morality, but it was more than likely that the boy truly was led on in some way by the mystery man. It was just another of life's injustices, something he knew somewhat well.

Travis was unfazed at Christof's physical condition. He had cut people into pieces with his beam katanas, after all. It meant nothing to him. "So you want us to be your transdimensional hit squad to get revenge against this Zeke guy that fucked with you." he was familiar with the idea. It was the plot of more than one movie he had seen over the course of his life.

He mused aloud about Christof's plan. "Well, it's not a bad idea for recruitment. We don't even exist on this Earth. So we're at your mercy." he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I hope you and the good doctor planned ahead for your A-Team as far as amenities go. We've still got to eat, shit, sleep." he was fairly resigned to the idea of being at Christof's beck and call. There was no hurry for him to have a battle against people and..things that didn't fight fair.

At least the UAA, scam that it was, gave each assassin a fair shot at victory. Then again Christof was more upfront than Sylvia ever was about what he was really doing. Both ideas were really their own kind of hell. Killers of various stripes and circumstances being used as pawns? it rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn't find the words. He had understood it at some level, but it hadn't come to the surface like this until this point.

 

[Fuyou-Kay]

Daria

A lot of things happened, but finally Daria got the information she wanted. Some things had been helpful, like learning how that "Vinci" thing worked and just what kind of humans these people were. They were nothing like the humans of her world, who could develop surprisingly high physical capabilities, but basically it seemed that each human here had a gimmick. But more than that, she finally learned what they were here to do.

Go kill some people.

It was kind of a pain, but she didn't really have anything inherently against it. Jumping from one master to the next didn't sound too bad anyway. In fact, she preferred it. Her previous master was impossible for her to kill. And though this guy sure seemed to be strong with his "believing" ability or whatever, there were some pretty obvious flaws with it. If he could just believe himself to be invincible, what would stop him from believing himself to "have the capability to destroy Zeke without contact"? Or "have the capability to cure all wounds"? Christof sure hyped himself up, but something was clearly not adding up. He could be killed, even as ridiculously silly as his gimmick appeared to be. Whether it was just the human limitation of belief or he was lying about how his gimmick worked to begin with, it didn't really matter.

Eventually she could kill him, and grasp freedom for the first time in the process.

"Telling us to 'destroy them' is good and all, but don't we need a little more info than that?" Daria asked, flipping back some of her hair. "Like, at least what they look like. Where they might be. What their little gimmicks do. I mean we're disposable and blah blah blah, but you still want us to succeed, right? Tell us how they work. Is there a weakness to these abilities of you humans?"

The humanoid module crossed her arms, a relaxed smile on her face.

"Oh, and this one you might not answer since it doesn't really matter for us to do our jobs, but after we kill these guys for you, what comes next? You just let us go back? You sure seem friendly enough, with those threats to kill us and all, but are you that friendly I wonder?" ​

 

[Stricken Steel]

Jadeline "Violetta" Vindictov

Violetta didnt remember much, other than the fact that while flying the cockpit of her jet had opened, and she felt a sharp pain in her neck. Now she was here, With others, Some human, Some not. However, The "German" sounding doctor explained everything, and reminded her of a character from one of her favorite video-games when she was younger.
She stayed silent until she actually had something "decent" to ask or say to prevent her whole body turned into mush stew.

"Doctor, So you said you had pulled us from these different worlds. What happens when we run out of our own specialized things? Like my jet, Is my jet even on this earth?"

She was ok with the whole taking orders thing, but the collars took that a bit too far. Once she received her equipment, she slid into her suit quickly, the suit tightened to a feeling point of "just-right" around her body. Violetta kept her XM8 Compact on a magnetic holder on her back, and her helmet at her side.
The man named Christof, took off his upper apparel, showing a badly scarred upper body.

"Oh man, That brings back nightmares. Im truly sorry for your pain, I know how you feel."


|Everyone in Area|​

 

[jump.]

NUMBER FIVE

mood

very much done

outfit

here

location

here

tags

proximity tags!

So, what they all had in common was the art of murder. Everyone here -with the exception of Guzma, it would seem- was a killer. Now that made things interesting, especially since there was another kid here, a little girl. And according to Christof, a dangerous little girl at that. Five leant back against the wall he'd nearly crashed into, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, posture tense and gaze wary as it pulled away from Remilia. Even if they were in the same boat as him, these people were dangerous. He'd need to exercise caution around them, keep himself closed off, be wary. As unnatural as self-preservation was to him, he needed to keep himself alive. For the sake of his family. Any mistakes could mean their demise, and he wasn't going to risk that. Not now, not ever.

Observing the conversations passively, he grit his teeth, brows knitting together. From what Christof was saying, they'd all been plucked from their individual dimensions, and taken to his dimension to carry out whatever pathetic revenge fantasy he had planned. The whole thing was ridiculous. Why couldn't he just kill these people himself? Or send Vinci and that kid out to do it instead? He was done with killing. He was done with the Commission, he was done with taking orders, he didn't fucking want to kill anyone else. But he didn't have a choice, did he?

"We're going to need more to go off than that."

He'd only raised an eyebrow at Christof's scars, seemingly unimpressed by the gore beneath his clothing. After all, he'd seen worse, done worse. And not to mention, bodily mutilation seemed to run in the family. After all, Luther existed. "You told us one guys powers. What about the others? What will we be facing?" Superpowers weren't of any concern to him, he had powers of his own, and he'd fought against others with powers. This 'mission' wouldn't be too difficult. Five was the best assassin in the space-time continuum after all. "We need details, asshole. Sending us in blind would be a suicide mission." He pulled his eyes away from Christof to stare at the monitor behind the man, mouth tugging into a frown. "Like that idiot said: We're also gonna need supplies. Food, drink, medical attention... I doubt anyone will be of use to you without that." He jerked his head towards Travis as he spoke. At least the Commission had offered him a place to stay, a warm shower, a bed. If he was going to be someone else's pet assassin, he wanted decent living conditions.

...And a first-aid kit hopefully. He wasn't in good enough form to take down anyone. Heck, his stupid shrapnel wound hadn't even fully healed up yet. Not to mention he'd had the shit beaten out of him over the course of the past few weeks. He'd had barely any time to recover.

As others spoke up, he idly nodded along to their words, glancing over at Daria as she spoke. "Lady has a point." What about the aftermath? What about his siblings? He wanted to know they were safe, that they'd stay safe if he did what this asshole asked of him. "I'd like to know your plans for what comes after as well." Sighing through his teeth, he crossed his legs over at the ankle, tipping his head back against the wall to stare blankly up at the ceiling. When the pilot woman spoke up, emphasising with their captor, he audibly scoffed shooting her a look of disbelief. Jeez, what was she trying to do? Suck up to the prick? Feeling sorry for someone who'd kidnapped them all was stupidity. Christof didn't deserve sympathy. He didn't deserve their service either. And given the opportunity, Five would happily gut the man like a fish.

Christ... He would kill for a good cup of coffee right now. Maybe with a shot of whiskey added. Or two.

coded by reveriee.

Spoiler: mobile version.

So, what they all had in common was the art of murder. Everyone here -with the exception of Guzma, it would seem- was a killer. Now that made things interesting, especially since there was another kid here, a little girl. And according to Christof, a dangerous little girl at that. Five leant back against the wall he'd nearly crashed into, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, posture tense and gaze wary as it pulled away from Remilia. Even if they were in the same boat as him, these people were dangerous. He'd need to exercise caution around them, keep himself closed off, be wary. As unnatural as self-preservation was to him, he needed to keep himself alive. For the sake of his family. Any mistakes could mean their demise, and he wasn't going to risk that. Not now, not ever.

Observing the conversations passively, he grit his teeth, brows knitting together. From what Christof was saying, they'd all been plucked from their individual dimensions, and taken to his dimension to carry out whatever pathetic revenge fantasy he had planned. The whole thing was ridiculous. Why couldn't he just kill these people himself? Or send Vinci and that kid out to do it instead? He was done with killing. He was done with the Commission, he was done with taking orders, he didn't fucking want to kill anyone else. But he didn't have a choice, did he?

"We're going to need more to go off than that."

He'd only raised an eyebrow at Christof's scars, seemingly unimpressed by the gore beneath his clothing. After all, he'd seen worse, done worse. And not to mention, bodily mutilation seemed to run in the family. After all, Luther existed. "You told us one guys powers. What about the others? What will we be facing?" Superpowers weren't of any concern to him, he had powers of his own, and he'd fought against others with powers. This 'mission' wouldn't be too difficult. Five was the best assassin in the space-time continuum after all. "We need details, asshole. Sending us in blind would be a suicide mission." He pulled his eyes away from Christof to stare at the monitor behind the man, mouth tugging into a frown. "Like that idiot said: We're also gonna need supplies. Food, drink, medical attention... I doubt anyone will be of use to you without that." He jerked his head towards Travis as he spoke. At least the Commission had offered him a place to stay, a warm shower, a bed. If he was going to be someone else's pet assassin, he wanted decent living conditions.

...And a first-aid kit hopefully. He wasn't in good enough form to take down anyone. Heck, his stupid shrapnel wound hadn't even fully healed up yet. Not to mention he'd had the shit beaten out of him over the course of the past few weeks. He'd had barely any time to recover.

As others spoke up, he idly nodded along to their words, glancing over at Daria as she spoke. "Lady has a point." What about the aftermath? What about his siblings? He wanted to know they were safe, that they'd stay safe if he did what this asshole asked of him. "I'd like to know your plans for what comes after as well." Sighing through his teeth, he crossed his legs over at the ankle, tipping his head back against the wall to stare blankly up at the ceiling. When the pilot woman spoke up, emphasising with their captor, he audibly scoffed shooting her a look of disbelief. Jeez, what was she trying to do? Suck up to the prick? Feeling sorry for someone who'd kidnapped them all was stupidity. Christof didn't deserve sympathy. He didn't deserve their service either. And given the opportunity, Five would happily gut the man like a fish.

Christ... He would kill for a good cup of coffee right now. Maybe with a shot of whiskey added. Or two.

 

[nocchi]

The lithe girl had hardly noticed the body of flesh she had been seated upon; not until it peeped up in a low bass ranged voice. She flinched with surprise, eyes flickering downwards to acknowledge the blond tousles beneath her. His request was spoken with formality and respect which she was greatly appreciative of coming from a human—anything less would have been deemed unacceptable to the entitled vampirian girl. She was quite fond of humans who recognized their place. "Because your request was fittingly reverent.." She started in another lull, speaking through a smirk which bore the sharp points of elongated fangs. Shortly thereafter, she'd plant dainty hands on the broad back, pushing herself off of it with a small, audible grunt. After doing so her gaze lingered on the human male, smirk still prevalant on her face as she took a sharp inhale through it to continue speaking. "Though, I must admit, I hadn't realized humans made for such comfortable pallets." She remarked cheekily with amusement.

Scarlet irises flickered away from the man, and to the surrounding persons. The surrounding vicinity was full of clamoring humans, whose aroma greeted her nostrils as a caress. Had she not already gotten her fill—just before being taken hostage in this place—such a feat, perhaps, would have proved to be all too tempting for Remilia. However, there was little time to ponder about that, for a seemingly undead figure approached her with a walk that, somehow, made her feel discomfort; this factor only being heightened by the unsettling gas mask which it peered down at her through. Its laugh was as though a mockery, and upon hearing it, Remilia's simper was traded for a scowl which bore teeth ground with disapproval. It produced a miasma of what was unmistakably akin to that of corroding carcass, and upon [Remilia] having smelled it, she grunted as if attempting to stifle any potential attempts at her body heaving with repulse; a hand coming over her nose to shield it from any further assault.

With a teeth-revealing glower still plastered upon delicate features, Remilia's lips would twitch, eyes tapering with visible odium towards Vinci's sneering. This thing, whatever it was, was making a mockery of her... and she could hardly spit a spunky rebuttal as typical of her, not without risking taking in the stench which rolled off of the aforementioned. "Capability for destruction..?" Remilia would repeat amidst her own thoughts, lips coming to a purse with deep thoughtfulness. "Flan....!" Her eyes frantically darted about the vicinity, raking over all the figures she could see, although none resembled that of her far more destructive younger sister. Such realization brought her relief, audible in the form of a sigh being emitted through lips which had briefly parted only for the sake of releasing that breath. After which, they'd seal again, gaze returning to the fogged lenses of Vinci's mask.

"If you recognize my potential, then you must also realize that the fate of humans, youkai, and undead alike rests upon my palm," Remilia spoke at last, tone somewhat nasal from still shielding her nose with a hand. "You'll realize your mistake. You'll regret it!" Verbalizing her implied pride as a feared vampire, especially one as great as herself, her words seemed to herald a prophecy for the other. Her gaze would wander with remaining uncertainty towards her current predicament, catching the gaze of Five who seemed to have been monitoring her. Her eyes fell to look him down, and then up again, raking over his frame. Taking note of his unbound hands, she looked to her own, constricted by metal. Although hidden by her front fringe, her brows had come to a knit with distaste. It was as though her captor—seemingly the masked one which stood before her—had the purposeful intent of defiling her by means of humiliation.

Remilia's gaze would linger on Five, who she stared at intensely, as though wordlessly beckoning him forth to come free her of the shackles which laden her thin wrists. Although gaze not moving from the small boy which had caught her attention, she spoke again. "You disgust me with your mockery," Remilia spat through a grimace. "Free me from these things at once." She commanded in reference to the handcuffs and collar she adorned.

{ Funnier President , MidwayLives , jump. }​

scarlet devil

remilia.

• aaaaaaaaa
• aaaaaaaaa

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  goodbye

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Funnier President]

Yoshikage Kira

As the child moved off him, he simply said "Thank you". He was even more tense then usual, because the wild... didn't seem normal at all. Standing up, he attempted to fix his tie the best he could with his hands cuffed, while taking note off everything that was happening. His eyes quickly swept the thing Killer Queen had tussled with(and blown up. twice. Sheer heart attack also helped)

In short, he included he needed to get out of here. For now, he just listened to what everyone else had to say. When "Christof" showed off the wounds on him, the Killer suppressed a wince. How horrible.

His mind suddenly flashed to a possibility- the thing that had captured him could not see Killer Queen, nobody could. Maybe... he could fake being a killer? Just an innocent, he was. Normal Kira.

Facing Christof, he spoke lightly, trying to seem sincere and polite

"Sir, I believe you have taken the wrong person by accident. My name is Yoshikage Kira, 33, and not a killer. Is there any chance I could be dropped off at my world, and live my normal life once more? Nobody would believe this, even if I told them."

Staring at Christof, the stand user awaited his response.

MidwayLives , nocchi​

 

[BuggaBoo]

MILEENA​

---

One of her twin sais dug deep into the ground in front of her, the other held clutched tight in her other hand, shielding her face from the explosion. Mileena blinked several times before rising from her flattened position, a smile actually forming from behind her mask despite the ringing in her ears. All here finally managed to witness the excessive force of the blast that lay dormant at each and every single one of their necks. Nocturne was not bluffing about the capabilities of the collar and Lotz spared no expense to ensure loyalties it would seem. Both sais twirled in her hands before finding rest, sheathed and crossed as always on her back.

As she re-adjusted the single braid sprouting out from the top of her head, yellow eyes gauged the expression of their captors. Of course, their eyes were shiny, bloated with ego and spewing self-gratification as always, practically patting their own backs; yes, all these megalomaniacs were all the same. She stretched out once more, twisting and turning her torso, then her eyes narrowed and slid in the direction of Stinky-Vinci . The creature was still effective even with its throat cut. When Mileena had reclaimed her weapons and gear her first instinct was to slash out with a scissors motion to cut the thing's vocal cords. It seemed as if more extreme measures were necessary to null the dangerous time/space altering abilities of the rotted vessel. And now it was to babysit the lot of them here; this new misfit bunch of assassins, collected by Christof Lotz.

The other new 'player,' this non-collared child, Unity, was to join alongside Stinky-Vinci as babysitter. Mileena's gaze flickered over towards the book-powered child. Between Stinky-Vinci and this little boy, she hoped to acquaint herself with Unity. This child willingly served Lotz which meant that there may be others that also served willingly under the scarfed man's command. And that kind of intel should prove to be worthwhile-- if the little boy could speak more words and form proper sentences unlike Vinci, that was. Regardless, this child could prove to be vital to Mileena's moves and decisions out there in the field. Especially seeing how its 'Gift'
was connected to Nocturne.

Speaking of Gifts... apparently Lotz's power of belief was nothing versus the power of Zeke's popsicles-making magicks. Mileena regarded the scars lining Lotz's body and smirked behind her mask; was this a play for sympathy? Regardless, this group of misfits was collected as a hit squad to take out the feared ice-wielder and its minions just so that Lotz could rule supreme once again. A slow blink gave and a sigh she let out. Her attention then turned to her 'cohorts' here. Ears perked up as she listened to the comments and queries of the others, especially that spoken by the 'back-ups.' Whatever Lotz's response would be to their words, the bottom line remained the same; they were all deemed not only expendable but easily replaced as well. But as of right now, that is not what concerned this assassin.

LOTZ: I could simply pull in those from another world altogether? Whatever impact your sudden 'departure' has had means nothing! You're hopelessly condemned to follow my orders and isn't that just perfect?"

'Hopelessly condemned to follow orders...' Nocturne had made them consider what they held dearest. Stinky-Vinci was the example of what happens if they failed to live up to expectations. Unity showed them what became of willing 'volunteers.' Lotz claimed to hold tight the leash of their explosive collars. Just a few more words out of this scarred and scarfed male's big mouth and he would render Mileena free of her contract from her master Shang Tsung's rule over her. Vertical pupils dilated as the yellow of her irises glinted. She considered their captors definition of freedom once more and knew she just needed to be patient a little bit longer.

 

[darkred]

>>Marcus Wright>>


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Play within the rules, not by the rules... "The Devil's in the details.."

There was always a loophole somewhere within this forced deal, but Marcus would have to play it strategically. Keep playing it slowly, and only step when the time is right.

The Sergeant and killer cyborg was observing rather this time. Survival was the key here.

But the said mission they were forced on included a military base somewhat like the one he was on at Connor's base. The man the German wanted dead had "powers".

Yeah, he'd kill these strangers under forced pretenses, but then what? There was always something hidden into the details.

"This isn't the fucking execution chamber, stranger." Marcus eyed the other purple coated killer trying to "play" innocent ( Funnier President )

He just shook his head like he knew in a past life.

Funnier President MidwayLives ​

---

 

[MidwayLives]

He mused aloud about Christof's plan. "Well, it's not a bad idea for recruitment. We don't even exist on this Earth. So we're at your mercy." he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I hope you and the good doctor planned ahead for your A-Team as far as amenities go. We've still got to eat, shit, sleep." he was fairly resigned to the idea of being at Christof's beck and call. There was no hurry for him to have a battle against people and..things that didn't fight fair.

At least the UAA, scam that it was, gave each assassin a fair shot at victory. Then again Christof was more upfront than Sylvia ever was about what he was really doing. Both ideas were really their own kind of hell. Killers of various stripes and circumstances being used as pawns? it rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn't find the words. He had understood it at some level, but it hadn't come to the surface like this until this point.

Christof didn't so much as even bother trying to hide his amusement at Travis's bluntness.

"Hahaha, you're quite the one to speak your mind aren't you, Mr. Touchdown? I admire that. It's a trait worth cherishing." As for the mention of necessities, Christof waved it off. "Your bodily needs will be tended to." Was all Christof said on the matter.
​

"Doctor, So you said you had pulled us from these different worlds. What happens when we run out of our own specialized things? Like my jet, Is my jet even on this earth?"

Since the question had been directed towards Nocturne, the camera creature projecting his image turned to face Violetta. One of the lenses where it's eyes should have been looked cracked with a chip in it. A similar foul-smelling tar like substance that had been/continued to seep from where Richard had nearly decapitated the zombie oozed from the cracked glass. "ghrghrg...." The creature seemed less 'advanced' than Vinci to the point where forming any kind of coherent words was just simply out of the question. It's teeth were bared and dripping with saliva as it hunched over on all fours. As though it'd been pulled back to acting like a primal animal because of whatever experiments Nocturne had done to get it this way. The other one that'd followed and had stayed by Vinci's side hadn't been so lucky. The shockwave from Richard's collar being activated had hurled it across the room with enough force to put the poor thing out of it's misery. More of that black ooze poured from the back of it's fractured skull as the lenses grew dim. The tongue lulled out of it's mouth as it sat against one of the steel walls, it's body limp and cold.

Giving a brief look of what could have only been described as willful woe towards the deceased experiment, Nocturne then turned his attention towards Violetta.

"Ah, yes when all of you were captured I had Vinci strip you of anything on your immediate person. Anything that could have been construed or misued in any way to either free yourself from your cell and or collar or to harm myself or my creations." He didn't acknowledge the hypothetical scenario of Christof being hurt. "Bringing your jet through was quite cumbersome but it is here. Though I assure you that it'll not be necessary for the time being. Unity-as I've taken to calling him will get you all to where you need to go. As to anything else, you should all have it. If anything's misplaced or damaged, please speak up."

Unity stared at Violetta from his standing position besides Christof. The boy who just seconds earlier had shown the ability to simply...shove something away to another dimension if he so chose/had apparently been the key for Vinci reaching each and every one of the prisoners. His red eyes radiated such brightness one might have felt they were staring at a light in the darkness even though the room was fully illuminated.

He said nothing but didn't break the stare.
​

She was ok with the whole taking orders thing, but the collars took that a bit too far. Once she received her equipment, she slid into her suit quickly, the suit tightened to a feeling point of "just-right" around her body. Violetta kept her XM8 Compact on a magnetic holder on her back, and her helmet at her side.
The man named Christof, took off his upper apparel, showing a badly scarred upper body.

"Oh man, That brings back nightmares. Im truly sorry for your pain, I know how you feel."

Christof closed his mouth and chuckled.

With the bone exposed and the inches of skin around it appearing dead, one could have seen the muscles/tendons attached to that portion of his jawbone twitch and pull with each successive laugh. "Oh, you understand, do you? Why....that's absolutely exquisite to hear! Someone else who knows my pain!" With the exuberance that the German man seemed to emit, one might have found it quite the challenge to tell if he was being sarcastic or genuinely honest.

"Indeed, the process of acquiring these scars was quite....memorable. But I persevered and still stand to this day."

He laughed.

"Perhaps it's because of my gift. Or perhaps I'm just quite the 'lucky' fellow. Who's truly to say?"
​

"Oh, and this one you might not answer since it doesn't really matter for us to do our jobs, but after we kill these guys for you, what comes next? You just let us go back? You sure seem friendly enough, with those threats to kill us and all, but are you that friendly I wonder?

"Lady's got a point. I don't care if we could blast you with a beam and you'd come out without any kinda scratch. Who's to say that once this job gets done, you won't just sic your pal's lab freaks on us? What guarantee could you possibly have that'd convince any of us?!" Guzma shouted while subtly wiping away a budding tear from his eye. Just minutes before all hell had briefly broken loose in here, he'd been forced to cradle the crushed up body of one of his Pokemon. Someone who'd been a lifelong companion of his. Someone he'd raised and taken care of as though they were his own flesh and blood.

The more Guzma thought on it, he couldn't even be mad at the zombie. Even if his brain desperately wanted to see that asshole finally put six feet under for good. He-It-whatever likely didn't even have the slightest of clues rattling around in that noggin on it's stolen shoulders. It just did whatever it was told and that was that.

Christof seemed almost offended at the implication of Daria's query.

"Well, you go home. What would I stand to gain from disposing of you all once you've done what I've asked? If after you've dealt with Zeke and his followers, I were to simply have Nocturne activate the collars...Why there'd be few precious materials to salvage. There likely wouldn't even be enough of you to cobble together to make into another Vinci..." Christof explained in such a way that drew looks of disgust from both Guzma and Nagant.

"But."

Christof grit his teeth and folded his arms across his chest.

"I simply can't have you stay here either. You might try to exact some kind of revenge upon either Nocturne or myself. However futile it may be and I've dealt with enough attempts on my life that. Some amusing in the case of dear Richard, others....Not so much. A friendly bit of advice however. Do your best to avoid being killed in any ways that destroy your body. If you die while doing what I've asked of you, the least I can do is make use out of what's left.~"
​

"Telling us to 'destroy them' is good and all, but don't we need a little more info than that?" Daria asked, flipping back some of her hair. "Like, at least what they look like. Where they might be. What their little gimmicks do. I mean we're disposable and blah blah blah, but you still want us to succeed, right? Tell us how they work. Is there a weakness to these abilities of you humans?"

"I'd be more than happy to....But alas, the good doctor has passed onto me that he's discovered a method that'll do less telling and more showing you what I'm asking you to deal with for me." The projection of Nocturne, still glitching in and out of visibility, stepped forward with the camera creature slowly beginning to stand up and hold it's hands out towards those gathered.

"Thank you for the opportunity, I'm most gracious sir."

"Get on with it, Nocturne."

"Of course. Just moments ago 'Gifts' were described to you all as something of a naturally occurring phenomena. But to put it another way, think of 'Gifts' similar to that of your fingerprints. You're born with them, and they're unique. Just to you and you alone. Only a gift isn't something anyone can see or even be aware of unless they put forth the effort to activate it. This could take weeks, months, perhaps even years. Some might go their whole lives without activating their gift. Whether out of stubbornness or ignorance or just poor luck. There are certain demographics of the American population who don't even believe in Gifts/Gifted, instead believing it to be some form of hoax thrown about by the government."

Christof let out a snort of derision.

"Almost as silly as believing the planet we live on is flat....Some people...."

"Gifts are not so easily extracted either. The creature that's been a great asset in keeping many eyes looking out for me used to look much more handsome. He also happened to drool quite a bit less. He'd been killed by one of Zeke's colleagues and upon retrieving his body I thought it'd be such a waste to simply let his gift go to waste. Said gift being known as [Pictures of You] that allowed the man to both view/record and project things. Though not officially employed by the military as part of their 'Gifted Unit.', he performed some...extracurricular activities for me incase I ever needed to work on or aid a wounded or injured gifted. To simply lose that because of a measly bullet to the head sounded utterly reasonable. So I set to work-using my own gift [Aces] and tried to reason out some kind of method of extracting one's gift or mixing it with another's. It took countless months of work but...I managed to come up with a fluid known as 'Coagulating Gel' that keeps the soul of the departed at ease/their gift useable to whomever it's been passed onto. A creature that is neither alive nor dead. A sort of troublesome in between if you will." Nocturne said with a slightly disappointed 'tut' as he looked towards Vinci.

"Vinci, however, is where I perfected the method. Imparting various gifts into one cohesive being. It hasn't been truly proven quite yet but people of different avenues of knowledge strongly suggest that the manifestation of one's gift is dependent on how that person truly perceives themselves. For example, if you were to believe that you're as hot as they come, you're on fire at the core of your soul. Nothing can stop your ascension, you're burning up inside. Your gift will likely appear as the ability to control fire. You may even become fire itself..."

*clap*

"If there are any further questions, please, do feel free to ask them. For now why don't we all take a collective peek to see just what you're up against..."

The monitor changed once again to show what appeared to be wanted posters of this 'Zeke' and his comrades.

Zeke's poster was located in the center amidst the other four. His eyes were a dark blue and looked as though you could lose yourself in them just by staring at him for too long. His black hair was slicked back with a bit of an icy tinge to it across his bangs. There was no smile or anything of the sort. Just looking straight ahead and seeing the poster alone made Guzma feel uncomfortable. As if he shouldn't be anywhere near the guy this poster was advertising. What appeared to be the remains of a military jacket decorated Zeke's frame with cuts and tears in the fabric all across from top to bottom. It hadn't been well maintained and Zeke himself looked like he'd been put through the wringer. Dark blue cargo pants matched with steel toed boots completed the rest of his attire.

"UNIT 1959. Identity given to subject: 'Zeke.' Age: 22." The monitor broadcast in a very mechanical matter of fact manner. "Gift: [Icy Heart]- elemental type Gift that allows unit to control, manifest, and manipulate ice at will. Threat level: A. Potential limit: S"

'Hey, I got a-'

Guzma's attempt at a question was cut off as the monitor illuminated another of what appeared to be those who'd gone and followed Zeke. This one appeared to be much older than the rest, a hefty guess would have likely landed around in the ballpark of mid-late fifties at best, early sixties at worst. His hair was long and ran down to the nape of his back. He wore a long brown duster and seemed to have something of a piercing look in his black eyes. What looked like dark brown feathers ran along the sides of his neck and seemingly continued under the collar of his grey sweater. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks and a cigarette hung loosely from his mouth. His shoes looked about as retro as they could seeming like they walked straight out of the 60s.

"Unit 1939. Identify given to subject: 'Nighthawk' Age: Approximately 55. Gift: [Flight of Icarus]-a rare physical/elemental gift. Unit was born with traits akin to that of a bird of prey and can even transform into a Red-tailed hawk and teleport across vast distances using the power of darkness by sensing the location of shadows and jumping directly to them. A great deal of focus is required for this ability however. [Flight of Icarus] also allows the unit to coat their arm feathers with energy in order to deliver attacks with strikes reported to cleanly slice through steel. Gift may have dulled over years due to Unit's age. More research needed."

"I SAID, I got a-"

Once again, Guzma was cut off by the monitor continuing.

"Oh for crying out-"

The next on this roster of apparently superpowered terrorists had....Well, through no fault of his own a face that suggested he might not have been used for his intelligence and quick wit. With a shaved head and a scar running down over his left eye, this man wore nothing other than a red flannel jacket and a pair of blue jeans with brown combat boots to bring the whole look home.

"Unit 1929. Identity given to subject: Butch. Age: 25. Gift: [Megadeth]-a elemental gift. Unit can create vibrations and lash out creating miniature earthquakes/tremors. Vibrations can also be condensed and focused solely on any individual object or item rendering them under the force of would feel like an earthquake pressed against their body. Threat level: B. Potential Limit: A(potential to reach S exists but is considered unlikely at this point in time due to unit's lack of intelligence."

All that were left were what appeared to be a young man, who didn't appear to be that much older than Five. Dirty blonde hair poked out through cracks in the helmet of what by all means looked like whatever passed for special forces armor in this world's United States. The youth was decked out from head to two in it with a rifle strapped across his back. To the right and left of his image were a blank box and one with a man who seemed like early-mid 20s at just a guess with half of his head shaved and the rest of his hair dyed red and a bright blue denim jacket slung over his shoulders and a 'DEAD END' t-shirt with black skinny jeans bringing the whole look him.

"Unit 1990. Identity given to subject: 'Multi.' Age: 13. Gift: [One is the Loneliest number]-a physical gift. Unit can create adult clones of himself that are little more than mute drones who only follow the unit's orders either telepathically or vocally. Research done has suggested the connection of a hive mind among the clones and unit. If a clone is damaged, unless killed instantly it will continue to move forward until permanently disposed of. Suggestions include striking the brain or removing the head. Although the unit is young, this gift should be considered extremely dangerous as if left unchecked and falling into the wrong hands, the limits of just how many clones the unit can make are currently unknown. Unit's clones will turn docile if unit is killed and go berserk if Unit falls asleep. Threat level: C. Potential Limit: S"

"Unit 1976. Identity given to subject: 'Rostov' Age:26 Gift: [Blitzkrieg Bop]-A physical gift. Unit can cover themselves in a thick layer of metal and shift it to form differing weapons from spikes, blades, and even cannons. However, the user's body remains as it is behind the armor and can still be damaged. Speed is also an issue as adding on too many weapons can decrease the unit's overall effectiveness in a one on one fight.

Then as the monitor indicated the box which seemed blank aside from the question mark in it, Nocturne took over.

"Ah, that's a recent addition to Zeke's little band of miscreants that we haven't able to properly identify. My camera creatures keep being struck down before we can get a read on them though we know they exist. Things might have been easier with a touch more funding but due to Zeke's group growing influence these past four years, it's proved difficult-"

Guzma had already had 'enough.' He'd had enough the second he got accosted in broad daylight by some walking bag of pus and rot in a trenchcoat. He'd had enough when one of his beloved Pokemon was crushed like a fruit and tossed aside like yesterday's garbage right in front of him. He'd had enough when he saw a man literally explode into bloody pieces that were then magically whisked away.

Still, he had a little more 'enough' to get it seemed.

"OKAY! So, before you go on any further. I DO have questions. One: I thought you said the guy with this 'projection' gift was dead. You turned him into one of these things. So then how is it that there's multiple of them running around? Question TWO, that computer kept mentioning threat levels, limits, what's all THAT mean and THREE? What the HELL happened to the last guys you sent that these five were allowed to just run around? Nobody tried stopping them???"

Christof chuckled at Guzma's brash interruption. Nocturne was a touch less amused at he'd obviously taken great care in this demonstration of his. "Well, Guzma was it? I believe I have the answer to all your questions...The first one is quite simple actually. Zeke, 'Nighthawk', Butch, and Multi were all brought into my care through differing means-at different points in time of course-: parents abandoning them/willingly giving them be it out of disgust or fear of their child's gift or the money the government offered. Why I believe acquiring Zeke required Uncle Sam to pay out quite the amount of cash. When brought into the program, blood samples were taken. In the attack that lead to Zeke and his compatriots starting an insurrection, the lab containing the samples was heavily damaged. Only Multi's blood samples remained. Which given how destructive Zeke's gift could be if left unchecked might have proven useful but...alas the samples were simply too damaged by the cold to be of any major use. Thus I salvaged what I could and kept it in storage until my assistant was killed. Not wanting to lose a powerful surveillance gift like his, I mixed in some of the samples of Multi's blood in with the coagulating gel I extracted from his corpse....Essentially giving in a half-baked copy of Multi's gift into the cadaver. A normal person likely would go mad attempting to struggle to control more than one gift in their body. When spread across numerous bodies....Well the soul, the innate core of the original one's gift grows strained and in the end all you have is what you see." The camera creature sneered and drooled. The weight of having it's soul yanked and copied and pulled around rendering into into a mental state no better than a feral dog.

View attachment 903164

To have your soul strewn about and copied over and over. Each one growing more and more strained. Until all that's left is a babbling, drooling, abomination using a mimicry of your original ability. Whoever this person was, Nocturne's assistant, Nagant could only hope that they'd simply ceased to be after they were initially killed. Continuing on like this....Was a fate even worse than being turned into something like Vinci.

"As for the second question....Gifts are broken up into different types and rankings accordingly. There's: support/physical/elemental/mental type abilities. My own ability [Aces High] is a support gift. If you'd asked of me to learn a foreign language with no foreknowledge, I'd understand it 99% quicker than anybody lacking my gift. But even if I were to understand a certain combat style, my own physical weakness would make that knowledge pointless. Thus, I tend to server more....from behind the scenes as it were, tchehehehe. Physical typically revolve around strength enhancement gifts or ones that don't grotesquely mutate the body. Butch's allows him to control vibrations. If he were to grip onto....let's say a basketball and throw it with enough vibrations rattling it, it could hit with the force of a cannonball. He also need only place his hand upon the ground to crack it and send shockwaves tearing through the surface. Mental revolves around abilities that affect our sights and senses. One I've heard of is called [AC/DC] and allows the gifted within a limited aoe to briefly 'turn off' one's sight or sound. Hypnosis, telekinesis, psychokinesis, and such also usually end up here. Elemental ones like Zeke's are in high demand/sought after due to just how dangerous they can be. If given enough time to master [Icy Heart], he could potentially cause damage that could effect the climate on a grand scale. Hence why it's highly recommended you lot kill him and his friends before he gets to that point." Nocturne added with a bit of mocking laughter slipping out at the end. The monitor behind him and Christof changed to show what apparently qualified as the 'ranking' for gifts.

F-Haven't unlocked or have any knowledge of their gift.

D-Gift is completely harmless. Useless in any kind of combat setting.

C-Decent with room to grow. Those with difficulty understanding their gifts/the ability's limits or have just activated it are often slotted here.

B-Moderately dangerous. Most gifted in this ranking have either reached a plateau and don't wish to go further/have felt that any further development would be minimal.(Nocturne's gift would be slotted here as there's not much more he can do to 'improve' [Aces High]

A-Great-extremely dangerous. The highest level of caution should be used when confronting those with gifts of this ranking. (Vinci falls into this ranking)

S-WARNING. Do not approach under any circumstances. Elemental and extremely strong/skilled physical and mental gifted usually end up in this category. They can cause damage on a scale that spans across an entire city and likely even behind.

"There you have it. All easily understood I'd say. Well, take as much time as you'd like to look it over, Guzma. We're in no hurry." Guzma's face got as red as the top half of the strange looking devices he kept his companions in but he said nothing. Why say anything more and continue to let this scumbag make an ass out of him. "For your final question, well...."

"It's been four years since Zeke and the others rebelled and ran off. There was certainly an incident that occurred the day they did. But there was no mention of any gifted, any military training. Gasline was ruptured, big explosion, and so forth. Nobody even knows who any of these four even look like aside of those who survived what happened that day." Christof explained and Nagant spit on the floor in clear disgust. "So, five individuals with extremely dangerous powers break free and they're just running wild? Even if it's being covered up for the public, this isn't being pursued behind closed doors? Nothing?"

"Ah, therein lies the beauty of the bureaucratic system of American democracy, Nagant! With entities like Zeke and Butch able to cause utter calamities if they were allowed to train their gifts to a certain threshold and the sheer utility of someone with Multi's, it'd be a complete horror show to let them just run wild. But after the last attempt at arresting them, well, you can see how far that went." Christof gestured over to Vinci.

"My own superiors weren't exactly pleased at my recent history. From letting a band of rogue Gifted to drive out the US Army out of their own base and run wild, destroying thousands of dollars worth of government funded equipment to being the face of the failed attempt to bringing Zeke in and tying this whole thing up, I was....removed from my position and as far as I know? The government is just biding their time, stuck in a bit of a bind because if they were to say a super dangerous elemental gifted was running around. The panic would be immense...So, they're waiting for Zeke to make his next big move. I, unfortunately lack such a sense of patience as those old fogeys in power, mind you, and thus dipping into my own personal finances, I've created this whole mission. Off the record of course. "



"So, to cut to the chase, we're cleaning up your mess."

Christof for the first time since the prisoners had been brought before him seemed to twitch ever so slightly at Hei's bold word choice. "In a manner of speaking....yes, I suppose so."

Looking back over his shoulder at the monitor, Christof stuck his gloved hands in the pockets of his jacket. "While the good doctor's creations have given us some clues as to the group's current whereabouts, taking advantage of said information proved quite difficult without either the US Army behind you or even any bounty hunters. Enter-all of you! Although we've not been able to track down any of the group's current wherabouts, something has popped up that's piqued my interest. In the old campgrounds we used as a cover for training the Gifted that were to be transferred over to the military's jurisdiction, although since closed and barred off from the public after the incident, reports have been coming in of strange activity. A masked figure skulking in the woods nearby....Whether someone else has decided to for whatever reason take up sanctuary there, that was where all of this....bothersome trouble first started. Camp Amnesty" Christof spoke of this place-an apparent military base where gifted children were either brought to after being coldly sold or abandoned or in some cases even stolen by the federals government itself, in such nostalgic terms it almost made Nagant want to wretch.

"I believe investigating there should be the first of your concerns. Camp Amnesty is located around a small suburb in Lexington, Massachusetts. Quaint little town and all. The locals will likely have their own thoughts on what happened going down that trail and through the woods that day but I won't imagine you'll have any issues with them. I've already reserved food and board at a local inn. So, rest up, relax, walk around a bit if you'd like. But don't lose sight of why you're really there..." He tapped his neck. "By the by, when you reach the campgrounds, if this stranger of ours has somehow managed to get a hand on some of the base's older equipment, such as the speakers, radios and the like. I'd suggest you do well to avoid or neutralize those as you see them. Despite Nocturne's best efforts, certain frequenicies mess with the signal that's transmitted to your collars. Stay in the range or fail to find the offending speaker in time....Well, you saw what happened to poor Richard didn't you?"

Guzma grew pallid at just the thought.

"Now, if there aren't anymore questions-"

"Actually, I do have one." Nagant started. Nocturne sighed and gestured for the former heroine to go on. "Alright, I'll indulge you Ms. Nagant. What could you possibly have else to ask me?" It wasn't until it was too late to do anything that everyone in the room noticed what Nagant was doing. Having raised her rifle arm upwards, she looked through the scope and fired. The shot tore through the upper right half ot the camera creature's skull, spilling a strange and absolutely horrendous smelling fusion of that Coalgulation Gel and blood. It shrieked and howled in pain in a manner that for a second or two almost seemed human.

"I don't know who this 'thing' used to be. But being kept in a state like that....I just couldn't stomach it."

Nocturne wasn't happy. Even as his image faded in and out, growing bleaker by the second, he finally lost his temper. "You wretched BITCH! You're damaging a scientific achievement! A wonderous combination of the human soul as we know it and SCIENCE! I'll-"

"Hahaha! Good shot!" Christof complimented. "Nocturne, your creature still twitches. Show them."

"But, sir, she-"

"I don't. Care. Show them. Before it keels over."

Whatever threat Nocturne had been about to spit at Nagant was left stillborn. "....As you ask of me, sir." The creature weakly raised it's hands and for the first time, it spoke in what sounded like perfect human English. "[Pictures of You."] There was a white flash and everything went black for the prisoners.

~~~



When they all came to, they would have found themselves in what appeared to be a new setting altogether. There were trees as far as the eye could see. The sky looked bright blue with the sun shining down on them. In the distance there were kids playing, what appeared to be counselors telling them to relax. Was....This couldn't have been the camp ground that Christof had spoke of. How had they gotten there? Why did it look like....this? Rubbing at his eyes and holding a hand up to try and shield himself from the sunlight glaring down at them on what otherwise looked like a beautiful summer day.

...Then before she could take in the beauty of the setting before her, it hit Nagant like a ton of bricks. Everything around them looked...grainy. As if they were seeing it through old filmstock from a camera from the 70s or 80s. The colors appeared washed out the closer you looked. Everything they were seeing here was...

"A moment in the past...."

As if to further rain on the group's new problems, they could hear Nocturne speaking to them, seemingly from all around.

"Ah, I see you've all gotten your bearings. I must say it's quite astute of you to figure things out so quickly, Ms. Nagant. My assistant, Clyde, the former owner of [Pictures of You] could also do the opposite of projecting something for you all to see. It could project you into the 'scenes' he's captured. My apologies on the film grain and the shoddy quality. It seems Clyde's gift has struggled to stay cohesive as have the memories he's captured. You're not in any danger-though not through lack of trying(Nagant)-and you'll find yourselves back here in a bit. But Christof thought it might have served you all well to see the Incident....on the day it happened."



"Wait, wait, wait! This is just getting TOO hard for me to understand! This is like three layers weird! We're being projected into the memories of a dead guy?? What happened to the place we were just at??"

Nocturne chuckled. Still no sign of him beyond the everpresent voice.

"Clyde is indeed, dead. Yes. But his gift still continues to function post-mortem and your souls themselves were astral projected into this memory his gift had saved. You cannot speak to anyone, they cannot hear you nor see you. You cannot touch or physically interact with the people in this memory-myself included-but if you were to focus hard enough, you might be able to briefly touch a non-living object in the memory. But no matter what is done, the events of this day are set in stone. This is merely Clyde 'recording' it all for me. Your real bodies are just fine here at the lab. You need not worry about the collars here. Nothing here can harm you. You're all more than welcome to split up and walk where ever you'd like. But you will all eventually wind up back here as the memory draws to a close and you'll be returned back to your bodies. I hope this is...enlightening." Nocturne said, well, ominously enough in Gumza's mind.



"Still doesn't really make much damn sense to me....How does this 'gift' or whatever track the things this chump wasn't there to see in person...." Guzma mumbled under his breath and much to his surprise, he got an answer. "That IS quite the excellent question, Guzma. A first from you I believe. [Pictures of You]'s area of effect was-well, in some manner is quite immense. Everything within the campgrounds-regardless if Clyde saw it himself. Such an ability was perfect for keeping tabs on experiments and also disobedient children. Such a shame he's gone....." ​

"Sir, I believe you have taken the wrong person by accident. My name is Yoshikage Kira, 33, and not a killer. Is there any chance I could be dropped off at my world, and live my normal life once more? Nobody would believe this, even if I told them."

Staring at Christof, the stand user awaited his response.

Nocturne's disembodied voice only chuckled at Kira's expense.

Through Vinci he'd seen and heard of Kira's....tendencies.

"Oh no, I think you fit in quite nicely, Mr. Yoshikage..."
​

Remilia's gaze would linger on Five, who she stared at intensely, as though wordlessly beckoning him forth to come free her of the shackles which laden her thin wrists. Although gaze not moving from the small boy which had caught her attention, she spoke again. "You disgust me with your mockery," Remilia spat through a grimace. "Free me from these things at once." She commanded in reference to the handcuffs and collar she adorned.

"Of course, my dear. When you return to your body, the cuffs will be gone. But the collar will not be....My most sincere apologies."

Remillia got the sense that it wasn't sincere at all.

With that and one last chuckle at the prisoner's woes, the voice seemed to fade away. Leaving the group with a myriad of options. Opt to explore the camp and try to learn something about the 'who' they'd have to be fighting and killing(i.e the camp's training grounds, the pond, the docks, the mess hall just to name a few.) or....

"Ugh...." Clyde Eversteen wasn't the gift to woman he lived his life as. With a combover that looked about as try hard as you could get, a yellow and blue letterman jacket that he'd likely gotten back in highschool(which he'd left almost twenty years ago at this point.) and acne here and there pocketed across his face, he dug his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffled past the group, failing to even notice them just as Nocturne had said. It was during the time of the Incident that Clyde had been hired and brought on as Nocturne's assistant if only due to the sheer aid his gift would bring when needing to 'play back' test results or see what those children were plotting.

Clyde wasn't a big fan of kids.

In fact he was pretty sure he hated them.

He was in his late 20s(a big lie) and still had his whole life of him(a BIG lie) and here he was working for 12 bucks an hour using his gift and having to go round up some of the most superpowered young adults/teenagers that could have easily killed him.

" 'Go round up the children. What are you doing standing around? What do you think I pay you for?' Blah, blah, blah...." Clyde grumbled as he headed off towards the boy cabins. The group were more than welcome to follow and simply see where Clyde would go as he needed to round up some of the 'campers' here.

All while Nagant couldn't help but look upon the man pitiably.

Whatever he may have been in life, to see him and know what his ultimate fate ended up being.

This 'memory' felt even more haunting.

Fuyou-Kay jump. nocchi BuggaBoo Stricken Steel Funnier President Ringrose FactionParadox darkred ​

 

[Ringrose]

After being given a satisfactory response, Travis listened to Nocturne and Christof's explanations. Being called an idiot by Five he returned the man's look. Was this guy gonna have it out for him later? then he turned to listen in on Remilia's angry ranting, finding her mention of youkai to be unusual.

Peeking a look at her, she was one of the most unique things in the room, with her bat wings, dress and distinct way of speaking. Being an otaku he speculated that she was some kind of mighty vampire lord. Considering her boasting she might be their best shot at getting out of this asshole's clutches.

jump. nocchi

Travis listened to the computer rattle off the details on their "enemies". One of them was as young as thirteen years old, while others were just starting out adulthood. Barring the old guy, he grimaced at the thought of murdering a child and some young upstarts. To the uninitiated, killers didn't seem to have any morals or code of honor. "Piece of shit government.." he muttered.

When they were given their first mission inside Clyde's memories and cut loose, Travis yelled out in triumphant fashion. "Fuckin' finally! if I got to listen to any more explaining my head is going to explode." looking around, it was a nice enough illusion. His parents had never sent him to summer camp or any other place like it. Santa Destroy was hot as balls as it was, being near the border to Mexico.

Being a dead man, Travis wasn't very interested in Clyde or his problems. At least Nagant had the decency to put him out of his misery, which was another point to her in his book. More keen on getting some privacy, he set about to split from the group. "Well, later!" he decided to head off towards the training grounds to investigate alone. There was no accounting for someone deciding to follow after him, however.

 

[BuggaBoo]

MILEENA​

---

NAGANT: Having raised her rifle arm upwards, she looked through the scope and fired.

The report from the rifle echoed out and Mileena steeled her nerves to finally make a fool of herself. While the stomach-churning smell of the splattered goo still permeated the air, she was going to teleport to just behind Nagant's location the moment the beeping at the shooter's neck started its ascending alarm. Noting that the little boy of their group did not blow up when it used its powers gave her an approximated window with just enough time for her to teleport to Nagant cut off its head so as to take the collar, teleport to Cristof hopefully before he believed he was immune to catastrophic concussive force, then to back to the cells just before the explosion went off. She was confident to bargain with Nocturne in the aftermath. But first... Yellow eyes narrowed as both hands reached up to 'smooth out' loose strands of her top braid that hung behind her head.

But surprisingy there was no beeping, no punitive explosion. In fact, to her surprise the gun-armed female's mercykill actually created opportunity to learn more about this listed off Rogue's gallery of major players. They were suddenly shipped off against their wills once more, however, this time around Mileena was still aware and concious of the results. Even though detached from her body, she could sense the screaming oaths and obligations enforced upon her by master Shang Tsung fading and waning. And she knew this to be true, for her 'taste' for Dragonmarked was slowly shifting to that of the 'flavours' of this ranking system of Gifts. Once she returned back to her body she knew she had a make a crucial final decision on how to proceed in this world in hopes to get back to Outworld. Even in this state of consciousness Mileena knew the burden of the decision heavily weighed her down as she walked upon thin ice that barely holding together over pitch black deep waters.

Speaking of ice... If this Zeke was anything like the Lin Kuei grand master Sub-Zero, she was definitely out classed and out of her league. And so she decided to follow up on the leads of the lesser 2 upon the hit list. She needed to find focus first here in this strange flickering dreamlike state. After internally repeating her calming mantra several times over, the eerie feeling of missing some of her 5 senses finally became nuisance no longer as she kept pace with Clyde. But she was not watching him. No, Mileena was watching out for those who were watching Clyde. Perhaps someone here wanted this to be recollected and view later? But at any rate, after finally scanning the personnel in the immediate vicinity, she looked towards the grainy image of the lush greenery that hemmed them in for two heartbeats too long. The assassin blinked then finally piped up.

NOCTURNE: "A moment in the past...."

"Doctor Nocturne," her dual-voices spoke without contempt against the creator of Stinky-Vinci; in fact, she sounded businesslike, almost as a professional from one colleague to another, "if this truly is your failure then no doubt you have re-visited this situation time and again and collected enough data from Clyde to have details of locations of certain individuals, yes?"

While waiting for his response, Mileena watched as the spiky-headed male traipsed off. She then lifted her chin and exaggerated a nod towards Clyde, the self-pitying and job-hating sap leading them towards the young 'recruits,' "I will continue on with this fool, I would like to make note of the faces of the gathered children. I will also check their files especially to see which ones seem to be resisting and which ones are on board with their training..."

As soon as Nocturne responded she simply stated, "Very well then, Doctor, I would like to know the whereabouts of Multi and Megadeath at the moment of the explosion. Also, I would love to know your current location here 4 years ago. Please and thank you."

 

[MidwayLives]

Being a dead man, Travis wasn't very interested in Clyde or his problems. At least Nagant had the decency to put him out of his misery, which was another point to her in his book. More keen on getting some privacy, he set about to split from the group. "Well, later!" he decided to head off towards the training grounds to investigate alone. There was no accounting for someone deciding to follow after him, however.

To the untrained eye, the 'training grounds' might have seemed like a bit of a misnomer. It looked just like any big playing field that kids of usual summer camp age might have used for all kinds of recreational activities. With bleachers and benches off to the side and a huge black fences circling the area. Whether it ranged from taking up positions to play baseball or getting down and dirty in the gravel lining the field for some football, it didn't seem like anything too malicious.

That couldn't have been further from the truth. Countless sleepless nights were spent with Nocturne having the children woken up/taken to the grounds in order to show proof that they'd been working on improving a facet of their gift like they'd said. If there was anything Nocturne despised more than those who disrespected his work, it was liars. These children weren't just run of the mill orphans they'd decided to pick up off the street on a casual whim. Nocturne had seen the potential in everyone of them. They'd been raised, trained, and turned into perfect soldiers. When they succeeded, so too did Nocturne and Christof as well for that matter. Which given what this flashback represented was quite important. Today had been the time that Christof's superiors demanded to see proof of his children's capability/compatibility with the service/army. If enough of them seemed applicable/under the general's thumb, they'd be taken away from the camp and put directly under the command of the US Government.

Needless to say, some of the kids who'd been 'left behind' and refused to act like good obedient slaves didn't get to just leave.

If there wasn't any use for them, they were simply 'left in the background' so to speak. An euphemism that only Nocturne and Clyde knew the meaning of and one was dead and the other wasn't telling. Then there were others like the man who took the name 'Nighthawk' from a comic series his chosen counselor/instructor had given him when he was but a boy with a gift and without a name. Nighthawk had been at Camp Amnesty since the 1960s at least. When the time came for him to be 'shown off' to Christof's peers, he didn't perform up to their standards and was refused. His punishment as it were was to be left here in this camp with seemingly no hope at any future. Just existing as a living example of 'failure' to the other children. Standing near the entrance to the grounds in what could have only been described as the kind of sleazy outfit you'd see a gangster wearing with an untied red tie lazily slung over Nighthawk's shoulders and a matching black jacket and slacks, he quietly lifted a cigarette up and away from his lips. "Why don't you pack it in, Butch? The rate you're goin, you're likely to bust a blood vessel than move that pebble."

'Butch' stood in the center of the field and his t-shirt-which appeared to be emboldened with all kinds of punk/hard rock graffiti/symbols-lay tossed off to the side revealing the beads of sweat rolling down the youth's chest. [Megadeath] allowed the boy who called himself 'Butch' to control vibrations. This basically ranged from letting him rattle someone's insides if he got a good punch or prolonged contact with them or causing an earthquake if he got pissed off enough. It also meant that he along with Zeke were two of the most dangerous gifted on the camp grounds. If both of them reached the peak of maturity with their gifts and they were on the wrong side of the law? It was a nightmare scenario as far as the govt was concerned: A physical and an elemental on the loose with abilities like that? They could wreck the world!

"Yeah? Why don't I go pack it in your mother, Nighthawk? Leave me alone!" Butch shot back as he clutched at his right arm and held up two fingers on his right hand. Before him on the ground was a quarter sized pebble. "If....I can....localize [Megadeath] to specific targets.....It'd be so much more useful...." The various cracks along the ground-some of which stretched under the fencing and to where Travis was standing were decent examples of just how well this self-proclaimed training on Butch's part was going. With Nighthawk chiming in as needed. "Any particular reason why you're doin this, Butch? The other kids making fun of you for not being able to control [Megadeath] again?"

"Makin fun of....They made fun of me???" Butch asked, looking up at Nighthawk with an incredulous look. The 'mentor' figure to the children simply shrugged. "Whoops. Guess I let the cat out of the bag on that one."

"GRRRRR!!!" Butch slammed his palm against the ground. "[Megadeath]!!!" The ground ruptured as though it'd been ripped in half by a giant and the underside of part of the fencing was sheared by the vibrations as they headed right for the bleachers where Nighthawk was standing. The shockwave tore through the bleachers and simply seemed to stop around where Nighthawk was. If Travis looked close enough, he'd see the light flaring of a red energy around Nighthawk's body even though he hadn't so much as moved after teasing the boy. Just flexing his power was enough to dissipate Butch's temper tantrum. "Hey Butch."

]"What?!"

"Look."

Butch looked down and saw he'd managed to split the pebble in half with his latest shockwave. Clean splice right down the middle. "Aha...Ahahaha! I did it! I did it!!! Yeah, I showed you Nocturne!!! I can control my gift!!!" Nighthawk was happy for his younger compatriot but the fact that Butch had brought up Nocturne left an angry scowl across his bird-like features. It wouldn't have been too out of left field to imagine that Nocturne had let it 'slip' that out of all the children, Butch seemed to have the least control over his gift or something along those lines. Anything to get the kids pushing themselves to the limit just for Nocturne's own means and ends.

"Ah, Nighthawk.....Such failed potential there. I still remember him coming to camp. Alone, afraid of his own gift granting him the ability of flight and bird like qualities. No one to look after him and he wasted all that he'd been given to simply rot away in this camp. Until he foolishly decided to throw in with Zeke's little rebellion...." Nocturne commented, doing a great job at not sounding bitter at all that'd happened. "Butch was a good one. Needed to work on his brashness but if there'd been more time, if he'd been kept away from Zeke's corrupting influence, who knows where he might have gone? He could have served on the fields of the Middle East.....Alas." Nocturne's voice grew distant and Travis didn't feel his 'presence' lingering over him for the time being.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" A familiar voice asked the assassin. If Travis looked to see who it was, he'd see Nagant swagger into view, coming to a stop beside him. "Nocturne and Christof can call them whatever they want but from all that I understand? I think these kids and the older guy-referring to Nighthawk-made the right choice. Why throw their lives away being used as tools for a system that'd raised them just for that? It's their powers and they have the right to use them how they want." Given how personally Nagant seemed to take Zeke's escape from the system that Nocturne and Christof had only perpetuated, one might have wondered if she'd gone through something similar.

She chuckled.

It was a sad one.



"....And now we're gonna have to kill them just for rebelling against a corrupt system."

Ringrose
​

"Doctor Nocturne," her dual-voices spoke without contempt against the creator of Stinky-Vinci; in fact, she sounded businesslike, almost as a professional from one colleague to another, "if this truly is your failure then no doubt you have re-visited this situation time and again and collected enough data from Clyde to have details of locations of certain individuals, yes?"

Nocturne quietly scoffed at the notion that this was 'his' failure alone.

Although he'd never openly vocalize it for a multitude of reasons-his loyalty to Christof being key among them-, he felt both the general and himself shared equal blame for letting Zeke take control of the situation/leave the camp in ruins by the day's end. It wasn't often that the US Army were driven out of their own bases but once Zeke had gotten some of the other campers into a rage, decisions had to be made and ultimately Nocturne and Christof were the ones that were left as the scapegoats for the atrocities that happened at Camp Amnesty. "As I explained to Guzma, everything that happened on this day I'm well aware of. Sadly, most of it came after the fact as Clyde didn't 'stop' recording until after the damage of this day's events had already been done. The entire camp was within 'range' of [Pictures of You] and thus everything was picked up from locations to when an individual said or did xyz."
​

While waiting for his response, Mileena watched as the spiky-headed male traipsed off. She then lifted her chin and exaggerated a nod towards Clyde, the self-pitying and job-hating sap leading them towards the young 'recruits,' "I will continue on with this fool, I would like to make note of the faces of the gathered children. I will also check their files especially to see which ones seem to be resisting and which ones are on board with their training..."

Clyde probably wouldn't have appreciated it if he'd known Mileena called him a fool.

He would have naturally been too scared to say anything about it to her face, mask on or off. On top of the fact that he'd been dead for years/only 'existed' as his gift/soul was passed around like the town bicycle among primal-minded clones of him. "With the exception of Zeke and those who chose to follow him, most of the children at camp were exceptionally well behaved. As far as checking the files go, I'm afraid you'd need to access that kind of information here. Whatever you'd see in this memory is....more than a little outdated. But worry not, you're approaching the boy's cabin right now..."

Sitting at the steps of the boy's cabin where Zeke and the other called home was a little boy-likely no older than 9-8- holding a ball up towards an armored figure who stood looming over the child. Utterly motionless without a sound escaping them. "Now it's your turn to take the ball." The boy instructed and the figure reached out and gently closed their palm around the baseball and lifted it up. "Great!" The boy grabbed his bright red baseball cap off the top step of the cabin and ran a few feet away from the taller figure. "Okay, clone#10 throw it over here!" The boy exclaimed as the clone reared it's arm back and threw the baseball. With a bit too much force apparently as the child barely stopped himself from toppling over as he caught it. "W-Whoa! Maybe throw it a bit nicer next time but that's ok!! You're learning!"

The clone didn't say anything. It merely resumed it's pose with it's hands at it's side.

"Multi!" Clyde called out as the boy yelped and dropped the baseball. "O-Oh, Clyde! Sorry....I was just-"

"Playing with one of your clones, again?" Clyde asked as he reached down to pick up the baseball. "Multi, you got this out of the equipment garage didn't you?" Clyde shook his head. "No, scratch that, you had Zeke get it out of there for you, didn't you?" Multi bit his bottom lip and looked away. "Doctor Nocturne said-"

"Aha, the Doc said you could play with the stuff in the garage when you got your training done. Did you get your training done?"

'....No."

"Then, no baseball for you. Sorry, them's the rules." Clyde tucked the ball away in his pocket as Multi stomped and whimpered. The clone didn't move still. "C'mon, Multi! You're nine years old now! You can't be kicking up a fuss in public everytime something bugs you. You know what they call people who do that? Crybabies. You're not a crybaby are you?" Multi sniffled and shook his head from side to side. "No? Then stop crying and tell your clone....uh, clones you got work to do, okay? Nocturne wants all of you to report to the commissary. Got stuff going on later tonight."

"...Commissary?"

"....The foodcourt, Multi."

"Oh!" Multi seemed disappointed that his funtime had been interrupted but didn't want to argue anymore about it. "....Can I at least go get Zeke?" Clyde had a feeling that was coming given how close the two were. Multi had come to the camp as a baby and Zeke/Butch/Rostov had pretty much fawned over him like three older brothers. "....Alright, alright. Go find Zeke and I'll meet you two back at the commissary. Don't be goofing off, alright, Multi? I'm the one who'll get yelled at. Not you." Multi giggled and nodded as 'Clone#10' staggered in step behind the child. Waiting until both the clone and Multi were out of earshot, Clyde grimaced. "....Freak."

"Multi never quite had the heart for this lifestyle that I'd hoped he would...."
​

As soon as Nocturne responded she simply stated, "Very well then, Doctor, I would like to know the whereabouts of Multi and Megadeath at the moment of the explosion. Also, I would love to know your current location here 4 years ago. Please and thank you."

"Multi and his clone are heading for the docks, I believe. if you follow him I believe you'll find Zeke there as well. Mr. Touchdown who went off on his own to the training grounds should be where Butch is." Nocturne explained before chuckling a little at Mileena inquiring where he was. "Ah....Never a dull moment for me while trying to keep control over all these children. You'll likely find me in the counselor's cabin. Walk in or phase in through the door and I'll be in the first room to the right. I believe I was attempting to coach another elemental like Zeke. Her name was 'Ash' and she was....something of a handful. In a different way than Zeke. He rebelled because he didn't believe in being 'controlled', Ash rebelled....Because she simply wished to see what'd happen. Quite the little firecracker that one."

If Mileena and anybody else for that matter followed up on either of those leads:

~~~

The docks looked about as untidy as one could get. Moss was growing over portions of the boards and the water seemed to have something of an unhealthy green tinge to it. Whether that was due to pollution or maybe one of the 'camper's gifts, it couldn't be confirmed just by glancing at it. Standing at the edge of the docks was a young man with bushy dark blue hair and what appeared to be icicles growing in and around the curls of said hair. '...." Narrowing his bright blue eyes, the youth reached down towards the water and almost flinched back as a layer of ice began covering over the area of water that he'd touched and started spreading outwards.

"Zeeeeeekeeeeeeee!"

"Ah."

Zeke pulled his hand back and the ice started to dissipate.

Noticing the melting ice out of the corner of his eye, Multi huffed. "You're not freezing the lake water are you, Zeke? You know the Doctor gets mad when you do that..." Nocturne wasn't stupid and didn't just see it as Zeke attempting to play with his gift. If he managed to freeze the entire lake over, it sent a bad message in the doctor's opinion: 'do what you'd like with your powers. Who's going to stop you?' and it was precisely that kind of thinking that lead to Zeke's rebellion in the first place, at least in Nocturne's opinion. "Ah, no Multi. I was just trying to catch some fish. Tried to freeze one in a block of ice." Zeke's heavily French-accented English might have come as a surprise but both he and Rostov were 'immigrant campers' though Rostov's circumstances were a touch more serious with the Russian Federation not exactly being happen at his being at the camp in the first place. "Did you come to sit with me?"

"We have fish in the lake....?" Multi pondered aloud before both he and his clone shook their heads. "Clyde said the Doctor wants us to get together! He has something important to tell us!" Zeke didn't seem too interested and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "That right? Clyde couldn't tell me this himself?"

"Don't tell anyone Zeke..." Multi looked from side to side. "I think he's scared of you."

Zeke laughed.

~~~~

If anyone had gone to the counselor cabin, they'd have seen how much better off it appeared to be compared to the rundown ramshackle cabins the children had to call home. The second anyone of the group phased through the door, they'd be comforted with a nice cool sensation from the cabin's AC-something that the children lacked in their own cabins. The interior looked much more professional however with employees in labcoats-likely working for Christof directly or as contractors-sitting at computers. The room next to the front desk where a rather bored looking receptionist chewed on a stick of hot red bubblegum looked as though the doorframe were covered in singemarks.

"Ash...." The first voice was easily recognizable as belonging to Nocturne. If one were to peer into the room, they'd see him leaning on a pitchblack cane for support as he stood across from a young girl-likely around the same age as Zeke-with fire running along her forearms.

"Ash 'what', Doc??? I'm sick of this second fiddle crap!!! The only reason I'm pissed off is because you and everyone else at this camp keep giving Zeke better treatment!!" The girl screeched. "Whenever it's time for 'special training' or whatever, you always pick Zeke or one of his stupid buddies! What makes him so good, huh?? I'm an elemental just like him!!! JUST LIKE HIM!!!!" She yelled and the fire grew brighter. Nocturne took a step back.

"Ash, my dear, I assure you there's no such favoritism going on here. Now, please... keep [Burnin down the House] under control..."

Present Nocturne's voice chimed in.

"Ash was another elemental gifted like Zeke. For better or for worse, she always seemed to feel somewhat inferior to Zeke. I don't believe it's because of anything I or the rest of the staff did. I just chalked it up to mental insecurities and childish feelings. Zeke simply didn't bother giving her the time of day. Elementals are usually drawn to eachother and Zeke....wasn't. Poor girl."

BuggaBoo Fuyou-Kay Sleek Stricken Steel nocchi jump. FactionParadox darkred Funnier President ​

 

[Stricken Steel]

Jadeline "Violetta" Vindictov

Violetta had to listen to a computer speak about some "gifted" and she took note that another was staring at her...It was...Intriguing. She closed her eyes, remembering what happened.
"...Heh. They won't see us. We're radar resistant, Combat-4. We don't mess with them, They don't mess with us." Her fellow pilot, Markus, radioed before both of their radar's began to beep. In no time, The two pilots were being chased by two Sukhoi-27s. "Oh really? This is what happens, When you ignore the-" Violetta was interrupted when her cockpit burst into spark. 30mm rounds tore into the instruments, screens, before a round grazed her right arm. She remembered screaming in pain before looking down to her arm. In just a few minutes, They got on their tails and injured both pilots pretty bad. It was bad. Flesh was torn from the bone, and the round had tore up her suit, but, the F35 was still flyable...
However, Everyone was transported into the memories of a dead person and it was really creepy. It was like seeing through a grainy film of a camera, even the Doctor gave his thoughts on this.
"Hey Doctor, Should we not be worried that Zeke and his Army have gained access to the...uhm...Multiverse thing? Like you have? I mean, If he had an army of elemental-benders or god-knows-what versus us. We wouldn't stand a chance."


|Everyone in Area|​

 

[Ringrose]

He was annoyed at Nocturne's intrusion on his investigation, but he said nothing nonetheless, ignoring the man's inflammatory comments. Overall he thought that the two lived a pretty miserable existence, just like the rest of the kids. All of a sudden he heard footsteps and talking.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" A familiar voice asked the assassin. If Travis looked to see who it was, he'd see Nagant swagger into view, coming to a stop beside him. "Nocturne and Christof can call them whatever they want but from all that I understand? I think these kids and the older guy-referring to Nighthawk-made the right choice. Why throw their lives away being used as tools for a system that'd raised them just for that? It's their powers and they have the right to use them how they want." Given how personally Nagant seemed to take Zeke's escape from the system that Nocturne and Christof had only perpetuated, one might have wondered if she'd gone through something similar.

She chuckled.

It was a sad one.[/FONT]

View attachment 905473

"....And now we're gonna have to kill them just for rebelling against a corrupt system."​

Travis turned to face Nagant after she finished. "In the assassin world, you see things like this all the time. I'm not surprised." he explained. "We don't have superpowers on my Earth or anything like that. But assassins like me are pretty common." he looked at the two, Nighthawk and Butch. "I guess you're right though. It's no way to live." he admitted with a bit of hesitance. He had never opened up this much before.

"But what are you going to do? even if this wasn't happening here, how many other Nocturnes' are out there looking to exploit people with "Gifts" on this Earth? the amount of suffering for these kids won't decrease until someone does something about it." he thought about it. "I guess there's no real answer but to try and live, no matter what. Maybe that's how you become a hero in your own right..I don't fucking know.." he trailed off.

Travis scratched the back of his head. "I'm not really good with this kind of talk." Still, it did bother him. Just in how he was used by the UAA, he did wonder if there was some way to get out of this. He didn't want to die but killing some kids didn't sound right to him either. He mulled it over, but got no real answer.

 

[nocchi]

The feeling of existence within naught but memories was a strange one, as though body was little more than an energy, and the vampiran dame momentarily questioned if her conscience in this moment was a separate entity from that of the deceased man's. The overlay of these not-yet forgotten memories was ridden with granulated flickers over its images, as though a moving picture show. It was uncomfortable for Remilia, whose movements felt sluggishly slow, even the attentive—although, displeased—purse of her plump lips. In an unbearable pace of turpor mirroring the aforementioned, Remilia used the hollow of her hand to push herself from the ground, her lithe frame standing fully now.

Having been brought to this place, she became immensely grateful for the life she had lived for half a millennium prior to the encounter with that tentacled beast, desperately but silently attempting to work out any possibilities to escape for her newfound reality.

There was notably little space to think, however, not with these moving images displayed before her.

The sun was overhead, and that sight a meek gasp was taken in through now slightly agape lips. Her eyes would widen at the light she had wordlessly yearned for. Although events unfolding before her, she could only focus on the gleaming rays above, how they danced between the parts in pale blue lashes, and that's how she was certain that her consciousness still remained, even within this enclosed space of recollection. She swore that, when she focused with all of her focus that she could muster up, she could feel the warmth dance in halos along the surface of her alabaster skin. A sensation of her larynx being constricted by barbed wire became apparent, as well as the heightening mist at the bottom of her vision. Had it not been for her pride being the very core of her existence, perhaps the mist would have cascaded down as droplets.

Allowing ego to nullify the overwhelm of sentiment, Remilia began to wander through the lethargy, all four wings having stilled as she pitter pattered along soil beneath. She watched the events of the past unfold before her, eventually finding herself anticipating the events to come. For her, that is, after all, these events have long since passed in reality. There was an uncomfortable stir at her stomach, perhaps courtesy of the catch she was unable to catch, and thus needed blood she had been denied by that thing's presence. Alternatively, it was her discomfort with her capture, and even more so the past of a stranger she had been projected into. What was being revealed unto her was nothing at all new, rather pitiful for someone of her calliber, rather. She audibly scoffed at the sight of stone being bisected from below: arms raising to her bosom as if desiring to cross there with dissatisfaction, although unable to due to the silver at their wrists.

There wasn't even a sliver of satisfaction at the other's refusal to remove the demeaning binds, only a sneer which bore the points of elongated fangs, brows tensing into a knit which garnered very slight wrinkles to spawn above them. Unable to bear the secondhand humiliation from the sight any longer, it was then that Remilia turned to the other two in the same vicinity, although still at a distance. And she took it upon herself to take strides as long as her thin legs could manage, even her steps managing to possess arrogance despite each only carrying her a small distance. She wasn't that tall at all—standing but a mere 140cm—and her legs mirrored that with a stride only constituting their length, short in distance they carried, although long in how far they extended forward.

The man with the dark hair and deconstructed pompadour, she had recalled seeing him prior. They had made eye contact briefly earlier. Remilia stared him down in a manner as intense as she approached him, her demeanor unfittingly morose for an appearance such as hers. "You," She calls out, her head jutting upwards as though to confirm she had been talking to him. "In the yellow-tinted spectacles," She'd further describe him, candy red heels coming to a halt a short distance from him. She acknowledged the violet-haired woman which accompanied him with a glance, held for a moment before flickering back to catch the addressed man's.

"I see we meet again." Came Remilia's thin voice in a nasal drone, fingers neatly interlocked at her chest. "Tell me your name," She'd command shortly thereafter, nodding towards him as if to emphasize her interest on the matter. She raked over his frame up, and then down, taking note of the garments he adorned; she studied that feat with a somewhat perplexed, but inquisitive and mildly confused expression—eyebrows having settled between a knit and a furrow, lips pursing. They'd only release the pressure once she looked back to the woman. "And yours." She would do what she did with the other as she studied her appearance.

Although the dramatic difference in stature, Remilia seemed not the least intimidated by her presence, only staring up at her. Scarlet irises would sharply revert to the man as if to silently ask if he would speak quicker than his seemingly mute company. Forefinger retracted itself into an angle, the point of a scarlet nail dragging along the curve of another with wordless impatience. Despite all of this, Remilia still had a smug smirk etched into the length of her lips as she gazed upwards.

Ringrose MidwayLives

scarlet devil

remilia.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[darkred]

Marcus frowned, the man he talked to before would simply seemingly ignore him. His loss. He shrugged and walked off to try to find another capable ally in this walking madhouse. Some wouldn’t pay attention to the cyborg in the corner who was pretty quiet. His own expertise was found under another man named Connor or as he called him John Connor. Funny, he swore he would hate the man in general but he didn’t particularly like the man after he strung him up off a missile silo for all to see and used for target practice. Some man he was at first.

The Resistance back at home would have been just solely humankind if John Connor had his way, but he’d actually accepted machines like him into the fold. Oddly funny since he was just poked and prodded earlier. The United States he’d been into had been decimated by something called Judgement Day, and there were Resistance pocket cells all over the world trying to fight off terminators made by Skynet itself.

As for himself, he was a former criminal stuck into a terminator body he didn’t know he had and now stuck in a madhouse with a lot of potential allies.

Speaking of allies, he needed one or two. But what struck him was a man in the corner who seemed to be looking for someone as well.

And now? They were in some form of a dream of another, like a photograph moving.

The terminator cyborg named Marcus felt oddly out of place in this dream-like setting and he spotted Funny, who looked just about the same way.

“Who are you?!”

He looked up to see something funny floating over Funny’s shoulder. “What the heck is that?!”

Marcus had no idea what it was to be honest.

“It’s complicated, not sure what that ability but it’s something I’ve never seen before in my world.” “But yes, I’m from the United States, just a very nuked one.”

“My name is Marcus, Valentine.”

FactionParadox MidwayLives

 

[FactionParadox]

Wherever the hell they’d ended up, it was strange and his Stand Ability wasn’t working as it should. He was the President of the United States, abducting him was an act of war and by God he was ready for another war. He’d fought for the Corpse Parts, not for himself but for the prosperity and future of his country, fending off terrorists left and right. He’d fought in the damned Civil War, it nearly killed him but he emerged, alive and more powerful than ever. If they wanted him to play this game, that was fine. But he refused to be a pushover for these fools.

Those who stayed on their own for whatever reason would be taken out first, so Valentine knew he’d have to use his natural charms and way with words as a politician to gain allies and form an alliance. They had a unifying goal, escape and rebellion. There had to be a way to win and to get back at their captors, as he put the box of ammo on his belt and loaded his revolver. Nobody could do this to him and get away with it, he had men with a dark expertise in torture and interrogation. When he had every information extracted from their broken bodies, he would dispose of them like every other nuisance that stood in his way…

Some of his fellow prisoners didn’t seem quite sane or stable mentally, they would be discarded. Some weren’t even human, so clearly they weren’t trustworthy. Preferably, someone else from the country he was born to was the idea, another soldier perhaps or someone with superhuman abilities of their own. His Stand, D4C might come in useful if there were other worlds he could escape to. Unless this accursed tournament extended there too, which seemed likely since these other prisoners weren’t from his universe at all. No evidence of Stand Abilities of their own either. Still, he knew how to fight and if they got too close, he could test to see if they had alternative dimensional counterparts he could use to wipe them out.

Noticing another man with short hair, the blonde president looked over to him as D4C hovered behind him protectively, hearing him speak Valentine identified Marcus as one of his countrymen. “Oh, you can see it… Most people in my world cannot see my ability... My name is Valentine, who are you?” He asked, turning his cornflower blue gaze to Marcus with interest.

darkred MidwayLives

 

[MidwayLives]

Travis turned to face Nagant after she finished. "In the assassin world, you see things like this all the time. I'm not surprised."

It was rude to judge people by appearance. When the sheer variety of quirks often left their users looking out of the ordinary(having a head similar to an animal/feathers/scales etc) but she was perhaps understandably taken back a bit when Travis let it out that he was apparently(???) an assassin.

"Waaaaaait, you're an assassin? As in you got money to go take people out?? Sorry to say I never would have guessed." Nagant said while sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. "No offense at all though, you wouldn't be here if you didn't know your way around a fight or two." That poor loud fellow with the strange looking animals being the sole exception. "I don't really have any room to judge either. I'd fancied myself something of a 'superhero' at some point early on in my life. But it's not all glitz and glamor. I took out villains on my superior's orders. Sometimes even before they'd actually even done anything illegal yet. If there was even a whiff of them plotting to do something? It was my job to go in and eliminate them."

She rubbed the arm that Travis and the others gathered might have seen turn into a rifle. "They say 'never meet your heroes.' I'm the 'hero' in that saying. Kids would come up to me and all I'd see past their smiling faces is the blood I had to shed to get here."

​

"I guess you're right though. It's no way to live." he admitted with a bit of hesitance. He had never opened up this much before.

"But what are you going to do? even if this wasn't happening here, how many other Nocturnes' are out there looking to exploit people with "Gifts" on this Earth? the amount of suffering for these kids won't decrease until someone does something about it." he thought about it. "I guess there's no real answer but to try and live, no matter what. Maybe that's how you become a hero in your own right..I don't fucking know.." he trailed off.

"..."

It hurt to admit it-more than Nagant would ever care to openly admit-but Travis was probably right.

If it hadn't been Nocturne and Christof seeking to exploit and turn these children into soldiers, it might have been someone else.

Them rebelling and escaping their captors might have been the best choice they'd made in their lives.

It just broke her heart that it'd be the choice that'd wind up getting them killed.

Sparing a glance over towards Nighthawk and Butch, Nagant tried to smile.

"At least....they have eachother."

The 'Nighthawk' guy seemed quite a bit older than the rest. It didn't matter anymore since he was designated as the 'target' alongside Zeke and the others but she'd pondered what kind of existence he'd lead here. Had he been here when the camp first opened? Did he look after the others? Like some kind of parental figure maybe? To know these kids had somebody who'd been through what they had and whom cared for them. It made the figurative pill easier to swallow in Nagant's eyes. No matter what happens, they'll fight Nagant and the others who come after them as a group, as a family.
​

They'd only release the pressure once she looked back to the woman. "And yours." She would do what she did with the other as she studied her appearance.

Although the dramatic difference in stature, Remilia seemed not the least intimidated by her presence, only staring up at her. Scarlet irises would sharply revert to the man as if to silently ask if he would speak quicker than his seemingly mute company. Forefinger retracted itself into an angle, the point of a scarlet nail dragging along the curve of another with wordless impatience. Despite all of this, Remilia still had a smug smirk etched into the length of her lips as she gazed upwards.

Well, wasn't she a little cute one?

Nagant silently thanked whoever was watching(aside from Nocturne)for sending Remilia to come shake the former hero from her depressive thoughts. "My name's Nagant, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but..." She ran her hand along her neck. Even though she couldn't see the collar while in this memory, she could still feel her palm running over the cold steel as the device gave a warning beep as Nagant quickly removed her hand. It was still there alright. "What's your name? Nocturne seemed to speak rather highly of you. You were one of the first people he captured with that zombie of his...Which means you must be pretty powerful, huh?"

Ringrose nocchi

~~~

While the three chatted, Nighthawk made his way over to Butch and gently clapped him on the shoulder. "I think congratulations are in order, Butch, my boy. You did the impossible. You broke a pebble in half. That takes real skill." Butch didn't seem to exactly appreciate the snark as he pushed Nighthawk's hand away. "Aw, buzz off, Turkey! What I did takes PRECISION! If I wanted to be sloppy like you, I could just wave my arms! Caw! Caw!" Nighthawk narrowed his eyes before putting his knuckle to the top of Butch's head and grinding it into his hair. "Turkey, huh? Do I look like a turkey to you, eh?"

"Ow! Hehehe, no! You look like a big old chicken!"

"Yeah? Well, this chicken's gonna show you who's king of the roost."

"Pfft!"

Butch laughed and so did Nighthawk. It wasn't often that laughter was had given what the children like Butch and the others had to go through. Training made up most of their freetime. Christof had to see progress in their mastery over their gifts and slacking off was generally very much looked down upon. Nighthawk had been there done all that and saw it as his place to at least do what he could to brighten things up for the younger folk. It beat standing around and waiting to kick the bucket. All of that goodwill was quickly squandered as Clyde made his way onto the scene. Both Nighthawk and Butch glared at him.

"Heyheyhey! What's with the mean looks, fellas? I'm just here to pass on a friendly message, that's all!" Clyde proclaimed as he held his hands up. Nighthawk scoffed and turned away to take another drag on his cigarette. Butch rolled his eyes. "What the actual hell do you want, old man?"

"Old man??? I'm only 29 you-" Butch snorted causing Clyde to sputter. 'Yeah, maybe in dog years.' "OK! Look, Butch, Doc wants you and the rest of your little crew to show up at the commissary. Him and Christof got some stuff to go over with you guys." He looked towards Nighthawk. "You're invited to come along too, Nighthawk."

"Yeah? Does Nocturne and Christof need someone to stand in the corner?" Nighthawk asked, sarcasm dripping off each word. As far as he was concerned, his time to be interested in what either man had to say unless it was to tell him to pack his bags or to kill him had long since passed. Clyde sighed. "Look, Doc just thinks you being there would....I dunno, boost moral or something? Zeke and his lil band of pals seem to like you or whatever. You can come or not. Doesn't make any difference to me." Clyde tucked his hands in his pockets and turned to walk off. "Hey. Either of you seen Multi come by here with Zeke?"

"No." "Nah, I ain't seen Multi all day. If he's with Zeke, they're probably at the docks or somethin. Why?"

"Ugh, I told Multi to head back to the commissary once he found Zeke! Alright, I'll catch you two later. Again, feel free not to come if you want, Nighthawk. Might be a good way for ya to kill some time though." The implicit 'what else are you doing?' hung in the air but Clyde-perhaps wisely-didn't outright say it as he turned to head off in the direction of the docks.

"What a dork." Butch said simply. "Nocturne's lil errand boy is all, Butch. You goin to that meetin or whatever?" He asked of the youth and Butch grumbled. "Eh...I normally wouldn't give two figs what Nocturne and Christof gotta say but I know Multi would get upset if I rocked the boat. Zeke already does enough of that for all of us I think. So, yeah I'm probably going. You?"

"Maybe. If I got some time to kill. Would have to look at my schedule."

Butch chuckled and turned to walk off towards the commissary. "Heh, planning a whole lot of nothin, today?"

"You bet."

Butch smiled. "See ya there, Turkey.'

"See ya, kid.'

~~~
​

However, Everyone was transported into the memories of a dead person and it was really creepy. It was like seeing through a grainy film of a camera, even the Doctor gave his thoughts on this.
"Hey Doctor, Should we not be worried that Zeke and his Army have gained access to the...uhm...Multiverse thing? Like you have? I mean, If he had an army of elemental-benders or god-knows-what versus us. We wouldn't stand a chance."

Nocturne's voice reappeared in a series of soft chuckles.

"Kekekeke......Well, that's an excellent concern, my dear. But one that's utterly unfounded in any real possibility. I was only able to find you all through Unity's powers. Reaching his dimension itself was a process that took me years to muster up. There could always be the slight chance that Zeke and his gang have found a gifted with the ability to shift through other worlds but....If such a Gifted were to exist, I assure you the government would already have tabs on them. Meaning they're of no use to Zeke. Rest your concerns for now."

Stricken Steel
​

“Who are you?!”

He looked up to see something funny floating over Funny’s shoulder. “What the heck is that?!”

Marcus had no idea what it was to be honest.

“It’s complicated, not sure what that ability but it’s something I’ve never seen before in my world.” “But yes, I’m from the United States, just a very nuked one.”

“My name is Marcus, Valentine.”

Guzma was understandably not really in the most talkative of moods.

It seemed that having one of his companions brutally murdered in front of him/then being forced to watch another human being get blown into salsa hadn't exactly settled well with him. After being shunted inside of this dude's memories, Guzma's mood hadn't seemed to improve at all. The sooner they saw whatever Nocturne wanted em to see, the better. Guzma likely might have just stayed pissed off and quiet if it were not for Valentine's stand looming beside it's user. While Guzma himself couldn't see the stand, one of the strange multicolored orbs at his beltloop began to rotate and spin before erupting as both halves split and a white light shot out.

"What the-"

Standing at Guzma's side was none other than what appeared to be some kind of horrific beetle-like creature. Clocking in at around 4'11, it dug it's feet in and leered at the direction of [Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap] and narrowed it's beady black eyes. "Pinsir....Pins...." It's massive mandibles clicked as Guzma placed a hand on the creature's head, right between the two horns on it's dome. "Hey hey, Pinsir! What's the problem?? This guy's wardrobe might be outta date but he ain't done nothin to us." Come to think of it, his Pokeballs had seemed to rustle when he'd been talking to that old man with the cane too....Could the Pokemon sense something that he couldn't?

​

"Ugh, guess this ain't the best time for it but....Uh." ​

Introductions were in order he supposed. "Don't think we had a chance to introduce ourselves. What with the whole me being terrified of every little thing that's been happening since we all woke up in this waking nightmare. I'm G-U-Z-M-A. Guzma! Leader of Team Skull and the best trainer around." Though wasn't like that title or rank meant a damn thing given how everything still seemed to be going to hell in a handbasket for him.

darkred FactionParadox

( BuggaBoo jump. Fuyou-Kay Clan Ize Funnier President )

 

[BuggaBoo]

MILEENA​

---

With a bit too much force apparently as the child barely stopped himself from toppling over as he caught it. "W-Whoa! Maybe throw it a bit nicer next time but that's ok!! You're learning!" The clone didn't say anything. It merely resumed it's pose with it's hands at it's side.

Yellow eyes narrowed as she leaned in, the tips of the metal upon her mask but merely a hair's breadth away form the nape of the little teen boy's neck. So this little boy here, lonely and naive, was sympathtic to the inane, inert and immense clones it could create. Was it fate that she should be so close to another creator of her 'kind' or was it simply just irony? Yet again, here was a maker of enslaved beings meant to do the bidding of their master. And oh how she had measured and calculated all the ways of murdering dead, full stop, her own master despite the screaming, undeniable orders crashing about like unrelenting tsunamis in her head. No, she could never kill in cold blood her own master of clones... but this little enslaver...? This was the closest to that dish best served cold. Those other teeth hiding behind her mask ached and trembled as she finally ripped herself away from the little boy's side.

Hands on hips now, she slowly tilted her attention to the huge clone with the powerful tossing arm. Once more her gaze fell upon the master clone-maker childing and her intents darkened yet again. If only she could taste their blood. If only, then would she be able to dominate the field regardless of how many clones were set there before her. But alas...

Nocturne wasn't stupid and didn't just see it as Zeke attempting to play with his gift. If he managed to freeze the entire lake over, it sent a bad message in the doctor's opinion: 'do what you'd like with your powers. Who's going to stop you?' and it was precisely that kind of thinking that lead to Zeke's rebellion in the first place, at least in Nocturne's opinion.

"Doctor Nocturne," yet again, her dual-voices spoke without contempt against the creator of Stinky-Vinci, "was this Zeke ever able to freeze the entire lake at any time during its 'stay' here? And just how close was the bond between those that escaped that day? Who out of them all did Zeke care for the most?"

Of course, Mileena knew that whatever intel she discovered would be outdated, but she was simply outmatched by a possible A-Ranked Gifted and so every little advantage she could muster would go miles to enable her survival. As the interaction between the clone-master and the ice-wielder came to a close, once more Mileena narrowed her eyes at the smaller teen boy and reflected upon its demeanor now. Four years later, how hardened and jaded would it become? She hoped it would at least tasted pain and suffering since and increased its power level; if slaying Gifted was anything like slaying DragonMarked, it would the be well worth it for her to steal its inborn Arcanna and replace her own.

---

"Ash was another elemental gifted like Zeke. For better or for worse, she always seemed to feel somewhat inferior to Zeke. I don't believe it's because of anything I or the rest of the staff did. I just chalked it up to mental insecurities and childish feelings. Zeke simply didn't bother giving her the time of day. Elementals are usually drawn to eachother and Zeke....wasn't. Poor girl."

"Doctor...

Nocturne..."

And so there he was, only but a slashing arms length away. The corners of her mouth pulsated slightly, pulling tight, set to unleash unbreakable death upon such a directed target.

A deep inhale she took upon seeing the creator of Stinky-Vinci in full, alone and unhidden behind a projection. Even in this grainy image, Mileena was able to size the man up in a heartbeat and determine the 7 fastest ways to eliminate the target... and 2 that would draw out increasingly satisfying wave after wave of blood red, screeching agony--

The urge to taste that blood flooded her senses was then squashed by an extended holding of her breath followed by a shuddering, teeth rattling exhale.

Mileena had just missed the interaction between the fire-wielder Gifted and Nocturne, but judging by the state of the cabin and the expressions upon their faces, things seemed to have literally become heated between the two. Another player in the game? A weapon to use or a spanner in the gears, it mattered not at this moment, but it did not hurt to ask about such a fiery beast.

The assassin maintained her composure yet continued to speak through gritted teeth not once looking up in the direction of yesteryear's Nocturne, "What was the end goal for this female that rivalled Zeke? And did it ever ally itself with any other here? And if it did survive the insurrection where would such a thing be located 4 years later?"

 

[Ringrose]

Travis nodded. "Yeah.." he watched the memories of the past play out quietly. His mind focused on getting out of this enslaved killer gig, even if it meant doing things out of character for him. Ending the awkward silence was Remilia.

As she demanded their names, he replied promptly. "Travis Touchdown." he nodded to affirm Nagant's comment about Remilia's power. "I thought the same, basically. This isn't really something I'd normally ask, but since we've all been forced to work together, do you think.. we could come to rely on you?" he strained a bit on the last part, sucking up his assassin's pride.

He wondered if Christof and Nocturne were listening in. Ultimately, he decided not to mention escaping or anything like that what with someone potentially looming over his head. This was just the figment of a memory after all.

Travis paused, considering his next words to Remilia before continuing. "Earlier, I had made eye contact with you, noticing what you are. We don't have vampires back on my Earth, but you're a real one, right? vampires are never slouches when it comes to strength, or intelligence. Granted I don't think everyone can be trusted.. I saw some suspect people. But I'm just wondering what it would take to get on your good side?" he asked, keeping it vague enough.

MidwayLives nocchi