Owne moment, evewything was fine, awnd then next ethan’s eaws wewe winging awnd hiws head was fuww of mowe pwessuwe than he’d evew expewienced dwiving thwough the mountains. Awnd then he bwacked out.
he woke up no wowse fow weaw, though, mostwy juwst confused. The fiwst thing he noticed was thawt he was indeed waying down in the sand, awnd the entiwe thing hadn’t bewn sowme bizawwe dweam. The second thing he noticed was thawt yousof was awso thewe, gweeting him in a stwangewy casuaw mannew. “haaaaiiiii,” he swaid, testing out the wowd awmost wike he’d nevew heawd hiws own voice befowe, “you feewing okay?” iwt didn’t take wong fow ethan tuwu find hiws backpack and- thank god- hiws fwashwight stiww had sowme battewies, “might wanna consewve youw battewy, we cawn caww fow hewp once we get a ss-”/b] he stopped aftew hiws s was dwawn out fow juwst a moment too wong, [b]“once we cawn.”
he swowwy wowked himsewf tuwu hiws feet, wooking awound the woom, “whewe awe we?” he asked, mostwy tuwu himsewf.
“weww, we...awe...in a twomb,”/b] yousof nodded, [b]“we awe in a twomb...pwobabwy.”
dweams, dwugs, kidnappings...being whisked away tuwu anothew wowwd. Most of those wewe possibiwities, but onwy thwee of thewm made sense awnd owne of thewm wequiwed a wathew wawge imagination. He stood up awnd wawked towawds the waww thawt the fwashwight pointed at, feewing fow abnowmawities among the bwicks. Ancient as the woom seemed, evewy stone was stiww pewfectwy set. They wewe fwee of cwacks, chips, awnd even mowd. Aside fwom the vines awnd dust, owne wouwd think thawt the chambew was entiwewy new.
yousof continued awong the pewimetew of the woom, tapping fow a secwet button, a fake waww, ow even a howwow bwick. They entewed (ow at weast whoevew put thewm hewe did), so thawt had tuwu mean thewe was an exit. Fwom the outside he might have wooked wike a madman, knocking own wandom spots hoping thawt something wouwd happen, but he had a system (ow at weast sowme sembwance of owne).
thwee bwicks wight, then down, then thwee tuwu the weft, two own the wow above tuwu the wight of centew.
whawt came aftew?
“hey ethan, uwu evew watch hawwy pwottew?”
ethan had nevew bewn so gwad tuwu have yousof’s astute powews of obsewvation as whewn iwt was confiwmed thawt they wewe, indeed, in a tomb. “wondewfwuw...” he stawted wooking awound the woom. Iwt was uttewwy pwistine, awnd iwt made ethan wondew if thiws wasn’t sowme kind of touwist attwaction meant tuwu wook wike an ancient tomb. Had they wandewed intwo sowme sowt of twap ow something?
but fow the wife of him, he couwdn’t figuwe out whawt anyone wouwd wawnt fwom the two of thewm. They wewen’t pawticuwawwy speciaw, nowt in a way thawt wouwd dwaw attention.
wooking awound, top tuwu bottom, feewing awong the wawws, peewing bawck vines, kicking at the fwoowing. Maybe the sand awnd diwt had accumuwated thewe, hidden sowme sowt of panew, maybe the vines wewe covewing sowme sowt of… switch? he wasn’t suwe whawt he was wooking fow. He heawd hiws nawme, “owo?” he didn’t spawe a gwance in yousof’s diwection untiw the othew man bwought up hawwy pottew.
ethan tuwned awnd wooked at yousof, eyebwow waised, “didn’t evewyone watch hawwy pottew?” he didn’t know whawt thiws had tuwu duwu with anything, “why?”
“do uwu wemembew thawt scene whewn hagwid tapped the bwicks?” yousof asked, westing hiws chin own hiws fist. He paused onwy fow a second befowe snapping hiws fingew. “ow-ow whawt abouwt whatevew hawwy said tuwu get intwo the chambew of secwets.”
he began pacing awound the woom, gwancing at ethan fow sowme type of confiwmation ow deniaw.
"i don’t know. Whawt does thawt have tuwu duwu with-"
the ancient egyptians wouwdn’t have used pawsewtongue awnd none of the bastawdized egyptian-god media he’d consumed dawed tuwu twead thawt tewwitowy. He doubted they wouwd have bewn abwe tuwu instaww something so ewabowate. Unwess…
"do uwu think we'we own a pwank show?"
a pwank show? thawt was cewtainwy possibwe, though thiws was a pawticuwawwy ewabowate pwank if thawt was the case. “couwd be, i guess. ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭” iwt cewtainwy made mowe sense than most of the awtewnative ideas.
ethan wawked a tight ciwcwe in the middwe of the woom, twying tuwu gwasp hiws thoughts awnd puww iwt aww togethew. “if thiws iws a pwank,” he was speaking swowwy, dewibewatewy, “d’you suppose evewyone ewse iws watching awnd waughing at us?”
“i mean i uwud.” yousof shwugged.
ethan shined hiws fwashwight awound the woom, twying tuwu see if thewe wewe any camewas ow micwophones he couwd identify. He wasn’t suwe how he fewt abouwt the ‘ewabowate pwank’ theowy, but iwt was at weast something tuwu keep thewm fwom panicking whiwe they twied tuwu find a sowution tuwu thiws pwobwem. He knewt down, bwushing at the wayew of sand own the fwoow, twying tuwu see if thewe wewe any inscwiptions ow anything own the stone beneath tuwu teww him how authentic thiws might be. Of couwse he was no expewt, so thawt didn’t get him vewy faw. He fewt wike they wewe abouwt as twapped as they couwd be.
aftew pacing the woom fow a minute mowe, ethan weawized thawt iwt wouwd pwobabwy be easiew tuwu think if he couwd deaw with the headache cweeping between hiws eyes. He stawted wifwing thwough hiws backpack, he was pwetty suwe he stiww had a coupwe watew bottwes weft in thewe. “want sowme wawa?” he offewed up owne of two bottwes he had weft tuwu yousof, then sat down own the fwoow, bawck against the waww. [color=#FF9200][b]“we need tuwu twy tuwu make thewm wast, in case we’we hewe a whiwe, but dehydwation won’t hewp us.”
yousof nodded befowe gwabbing the watew fwom him. He took two wong, gwatefuw guwps befowe pausing at ethans wowds. Yet again, the man was making points. He ciwcwed bawck awound awnd sat acwoss fwom ethan, making indents in the bottwe. Nowmawwy thiws wouwd have bewn the point whewe the woom stawted making noises ow pwojecting shadows own the wawws. Maybe sowme bugs wouwd be weweased, but thewe was simpwy...nothing.
“this pwank suuuuucks, ” he gwoaned aftew five minutes of siwence, “no jwump scawes, no secwet passage, no ghosts…”
“just whawt awe they waiting fow? (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻” he asked, swamming hiws bottwe down own the fwoow.
nowmawwy, ethan wouwd have twied tuwu think of something snappy tuwu say, wike they wewe waiting fow the two of thewm tuwu get despewate awnd stawt deciding which of thewm tuwu eat fiwst ow something. But then yousof swammed hiws watew own the gwound awnd ethan couwd have swown he heawd a faint cwick fwom somewhewe in the woom.
“did uwu heaw th…that?” he asked, hiws voice hawdwy above a whispew, as if speaking too woud wouwd cause the woom tuwu cave in own top of thewm.
iwt couwd have easiwy bewn pawanoia, ow juwst the idea of being own a hidden camewa show getting tuwu him. He wooked awound fow a moment, but nothing seemed tuwu happen. Pwobabwy juwst in hiws head, then. He sighed, “s-sowwy, i guess i’m juwst wowked up.” ethan had juwst wet hiws shouwdews wewax awnd wested hiws head bawck against the waww whewn anothew noise couwd be heawd. Subtwe, at fiwst, but iwt quickwy gwew. Iwt sounded a bit wike whewn uwu pouw a bunch of wocks intwo the bottom of a fish tawnk.
wait. Thawt wasn’t good.
ethan scwambwed tuwu hiws feet whewn he saw the middwe of the woom swowwy opening up. “fuck,” he ewoquentwy said, wondewing if thiws was the sowt of excitement yousof was hoping fow. He quickwy stawted tuwu scan the woom tuwu see if thewe was any way of getting out of thiws, but the fwoow was quickwy cowwapsing fwom the centew inwawd, awnd thewe was onwy a mattew of time befowe thewe wasn’t a fwoow at aww.
“oh god, oh fuck. Oh god, oh fuck! Σ(°ロ°)” yousof yewwed as the bwicks feww beneath him, “awe uwu seeing thiws?”
ethan’s mind went wandewing tuwu how faw the dwop might be, but he didn’t have much time tuwu think own things wike thawt.
“hey,” he shouted, tuwu make suwe he couwd be heawd ovew the gwowing noise, [color=#FF9200][b]“come hewe!” he offewed yousof hiws hand- twaditionaw notions of mascuwinity be damned- they needed tuwu stay togethew. They pwobabwy had a bettew chance of suwviving thawt way. Weww, ow they’d die mowe quickwy. Who knew.
making a finaw jump, yousof weached out, hiws fingews bwushing against ethan’s befowe swipping away.
iwt seemed wike the two of thewm wouwd find out.
cayde "quickshot" mori // father ship // #990012 // img credit: alex floresThe night before the games ended with Halo making a peace offering in the form of expensive whiskey and Cayde’s begrudging apology. Some (not so) llight drinking led to the former divulging their continued obsession with social media and the latter laughing at the idea of how fragile their ego was behind the scenes.
"You know, if I had more money than I could spend in a lifetime then I would build my own ship and move away from everything," Cayde shrugged before blowing out a puff of smoke, ”who cares about what other humans think?”
”That’s simply not practical,” Halo replied, shaking their head, ”the import taxes would be ridiculous.”
"Can’t you grow your own food?” Cayde asked, raising a brow.
”Grow my own food? By myself?”
The words didn’t seem to register in Halo’s head or if they did, they must have had trouble stringing them together into a coherent thought.
"Or I guess you could hire someone,” Cayde suggested, much to the relief of his manager.
The rest of the night passed without much excitement aside from Cayde having to call one of Renee to escort Halo home. Outdrinking humans was not a hard task and Halo made the mistake of not tracking the number of shots they’d taken. Still, it would be a shame to let half the bottle go to waste…
Neither the line or the ship ride to the proving grounds provided Cayde any interest. Were it not for Fiero’s posturing, he would have likely fallen asleep. The mutant was too arrogant for his own good and though he had no ill will towards the red-haired man, he wouldn’t be too sad if Fiero was the first to die (and with how quickly he left the ship, it was a likely possibility).
Giving his guns a quick spin before slipping them into their holster, Quickshot walked past the disorganized mob. It was easy to discern the battle-hardened competitors from the greenhorns, those who grew up in the trenches and those in gilded cages. Among the contestants padding their body count were opportunists crouched in the corner, waiting to loot the bodies.
He shot them first.
”Hey! That was my kill!”
Quickshot continued skirting around the edges of the crowd, ignoring the voice behind him. As tempting as it was to knock down another opponent, he needed to conserve his ammo for stronger contestants. Pushing an injured mutant out of the way, he finally requisitioned one of the hover bikes. Though not the same model, it wasn’t all that different from the discarded bikes found in the landfills of the Dead Cities. He’d refurbished a few in the past and this was no different from last year’s model save for a new coat of paint.
Booting up the bike, he drove past the knives, bullets, and hovercrafts spinning out of control.
Amateurs, he sighed before accelerating past the fallen vehicles.
”Where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice roared.
Turning around, Quickshot found himself being tailed by a manic, red-haired man standing on top of a hovercraft and a girl with antlers in the driver’s seat.
Halo took a long drag from their opium pipe, an amused look on their face as they watched their contestant blow a hole through his opponent’s shoulder. They’d opted to watch the first round from the comfort of their own home as they could have the competition on the big screen while scrolling through their feed. The forums were nothing if not interesting and the cattiness of the livebloggers only served to feed their drama-loving heart.
Anonymous470866: Fuck who's gonna die first, who do you WANT to die first
Anonymous3681: lilyja
Anonymous3681: ljiijilja
Anonymous7622: You mean Ljilja?
Anonymous3681: fish girl idc
Anonymous1482401: No! Not my precious baby (╥Д╥)
Anonymous:3681: lol shes too soft
Anonymous1482401: But she's sooo cute.
Anonymous3681: ew are you a scalie or something?
Anonymous1482401: WTF NO!
Anonymous1387228: Kill Fiero. Dude’s annoying.
Anonymous7622: You can’t tell me Fiero’s worse than whatever Levi is supposed to be.
Anonymous:10265: yea that thing belongs in a zoo
Anonymous:10265: actually throw king up there too. i hate tentacles.
Anonymous470866 has stated a poll: Who should die in the first round of the games?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxLjiljax■■■■■■
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxFieroxx■■■■■■■■
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxLevixxx■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxKingxxx■■■■■■■■■■■■■
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxQuickshotx■
Anonymous470866: Ok which of you fuckers put Quickshot up there?
Taking a long sip of their tea, they locked in their vote and turned back to the television. Time would only tell if their hopes would come true.
“Clarence, you will be assigned to Team Skaði.”
The words had been music to his ears: a symphony of validation after years of trials, tribulations, and most importantly, training. Everything before had been either a simulation or errands of no true consequence. Whether it was rescuing cats from trees, returning lost goods, or helping kids find their way home none of it affected the big picture and nearly all of it involved the supervision of a random security guard or cop. There was no excitement or impact. None of these were things only he could do.
Blending into the party was easy, especially when half of the team was employed by Hale Enterprises or part of Atlas’s elite. Clarence however, was neither. Having slipped through the cracks and into Aegis’ lap he was a nobody and therefore, perfect for the role of the waiter. Per their instructions he was to be a fly on the wall, listening for suspicious activity and providing backup should something happen.
“Yes, Quillcoin is on the up and up these days,” a bespectacled man mused, “I might pick up a few thousand myself.”
“You can’t be serious Rembrandt. Money stored through the Internet? How will anyone verify its value?” his partner, a brunette woman asked.
“We already pay through cards and wire everything online. Athereum is the way of the future!” he exclaimed before downing the rest of his champagne.
God, this is so boring, Clarence held back an eyeroll as the two continued debating ecommerce. Was this what rich people talked about these days?
Before Clarence could walk away however, Rembrandt set his empty glass on the hero’s tray.
“Young man, please bring us another round of drinks,” the man said.
“Oh, and more of those lovely tapenade crostinis!”
Nodding silently, Clarence walked away from the couple and towards the back of the venue. Behind two hallways and a pair of black doors was the kitchen where the staff was having a celebration of their own (at least as much as one could while still serving the upper crust of Atlas). Empty champagne bottles, cigarette butts, and plates were all piled in the sink while a tray of stuffed mushrooms thawed on the counter top. Of the ten staff members working tonight four were in the ballroom, two of them called off and as it seemed, the rest were back here. One of the waiters had their feet kicked up on the table, the chef was missing, and the janitor was swirling a glass of red wine.
“We need more champagne and that olive paste,” Clarence announced, setting the empty glasses in the sink.
“Mmm, that’s a Kelsey problem, not a me problem,” one of the waiters yawned.
“Okay so where is she?” he asked.
“Smoke break,” the other staff member answered before pouring himself another glass.
Great. If there was one thing that people loved hearing, it was that something wasn’t available to them.
“But then... what do I tell them?” Clarence asked.
“Don’t tell them anything. Just wait for them to forget,” he shrugged, “we’re getting paid by the hour, not the plate.”
Strictly speaking, Clarence wasn’t getting paid at all.
Aside from the free food, he had no incentive to be on this specific mission. He would have been fine anywhere and if not today, he would have been happy to accept his first mission tomorrow. But being here, having this opportunity was more than just coincidence. He had no interest in bumping elbows with celebrities or learning to serve the rich. He only cared about one attendee: Alexa Lawrence. Outside of a cursory patrol around the ballroom, he had spent the last hour following behind her and her date, his plate a hodgepodge of drinks and Hors d'oeuvres he pilfered from other servers.
He wanted to say something, anything, but each time he opened his mouth he could only manage a whisper. Would she explain how she abandoned him so easily? Would she apologize? Would she even recognize him? Though they shared eyes and cheekbones, one wouldn’t have known they were related at first glance. As a child, she’d told him that he always looked more like his grandfather and given that she never met his father, it was hard to say that Clarence received anything from him.
He certainly didn’t step in, when Clarence was tossed out the door.
"Hey."
Glancing to his left, he saw the janitor gesturing for him to grab a glass.
"Come have a drink."
Nodding gratefully, Clarence put down his tray and walked over before downing the wine.
“Thank-"cough[color=#46C7C7]"-you."
"Easy there, the party's still going on for another two hours," the janitor chuckled.
"Either way you look like you've seen a ghost," the waiter commented.
Well he was half right.
Before he could correct his co-worker, a garbled noise buzzed through his earpiece.
"Say that again? Your comm acted up-"
“Hello? Mike-Skaoi? Skaoi?”
More garbled noise followed through before cutting out entirely.
“Dude, who are you talking to?” the waiter asked, knitting his brow.
“I-Uhh...”
Shit. Shit. Shit. He was not supposed to use their real names or code names...or talk out loud for that matter. Was this guy going to find out that Mikey was Skaoi? Would Aegis have to kill him? Would he?
”Are you okay? You’re getting pale. Like even more than normal,” the waiter frowned.
I’ll be right back!” Clarence announced before tossing his glass (and missing) into the sink.
“What about your tapenade?” the waiter asked.
“Tell them I’m on a smoke break!”
Bolting out the back door, Clarence circled around the premises looking for signs of a brawl. He could feel his heart beating with anticipation, ears burning at the thought of bursting onto the scene with a superhero landing. Wildman would save the day with his patented "Serenity Inducement", lulling the villains into a false sense of security before taking them out with the one-two punch.
So naturally, the moment he finally arrived, all of the thugs were unconscious and the rest of his team (Ada aside) were wrapping up their discussion.
“Aw man, you took them all down without me?"
Charisma and confidence were a perfect duo for D4NGER, but Yusuke Kujikawa, the man behind the mask...not so much. Nerves and nausea suited him far more due to the simple fact that he couldn't currently stomach anything more flavorful than a bowl of porridge. Renewing his passport had been arduous process requiring him to take the metro, interact with the woman at the kiosk, and force a smile for the camera. It took far more social energy than he was ready for, but he knew that it would be the least amount of social activity he'd have for the next week. Cheers were already pouring in from all over Japan (and Utaite twitter) due to being one of the first acts to come from YouTube. There were a few Twitch streamers here and there, but most were one city acts or openers rather than headline acts. He felt like a minnow swimming with sharks...
...And that was enough to make him puke all over again.
D4NGER's last tweet had been a picture of the sun barely rising as they ascended into the sky, his stomach rumbling all the while. He made sure to pack a month's worth of clothes, his equipment, and extra cash; however, he neglected to bring any type of sedative or anti-nausea medication so the twelve hour flight consisted mostly of the flight attendant reassuring him that was in fact, fine that he needed another paper bag. Granted, that was after the person next to him complained about the odor wafting from his first bag. When asked why he didn't simply go to the restroom however the answer was simple: he was stuck in the middle. He didn't want to be that guy who constantly went back and forth from his seat to the aisle.
So he waited, always a minute or two after the person in the aisle seat left before he went to the bathroom and eventually settled on falling asleep to a movie and listening to old mp3s on his Zune, a gag gift from his sister on his tenth birthday. Despite being seemingly obsolete, it held power far longer than his cellphone and had a variety of animal stickers to remind him of their pet-filled childhood. Even without his family attending, he could pretend that they would be there.
When they finally landed, Yusuke stumbled out of the plane and towards the shuttle area, his mind still piecing together his itinerary. The fresh air blew away his nausea, the song birds swept his grogginess and the waft of fried food stirred his appetite.
"Mag ik een bestelling met vis?"
The words came out just shy of a whisper.
"Oh! Don't worry, I can speak English too. What would you like?"
"F-fi"
"I'm sorry. My ears are not very good anymore. Can you repeat?"
"F-fish..."
"Oh! You want an order of fish!" The vendor grabbed a small, paper tray before placing four pieces of fried cod and handing it over to him. "That will be three euros."
"T-thanks you very much."
He forced a smile as he walked away from the vendor and sat on one of the benches, nibbling one of the fried cod pieces. He supposed that the vendor wanted to give him points for trying, even if his accent was painfully thick and his volume was well...low to say the least. Despite going to school, listening to guides, and interacting with his English-speaking fans, it was no match for conversing with real, actual foreigners in person.
Why couldn't this be online?
He would have time to use a translator. He could type instead of speak. He turn off his camera if need be and he didn't have to worry about all the unknown factors ahead of him.
"Miauw."
Yusuke raised his head to meet an orange tabby staring at his lunch. Though it made no move to pounce its eyes were clearly fixated on one of the pieces he was holding. He dangled the fish forward, beckoning for the cat to come closer, a smile beginning to tug on his face.
It was comforting to know that at least the animals spoke the same language.
rotation one. overdue reunion. #4d378a
"Spare me your words, kulak," Alexei replied, his eyes not moving from Jean's haggard rise from the floor.
He wasn't wrong to say that there was a culpable consumer base. The thirst of a vampire was hard to satisfy and blood tablets were a hollow substitute for the real thing. So there posed an entry way for that rat to sow discord among the student body. He dressed his greed in the language of revolt, making it easy for everyone to silently indulge their instincts. It was an utter dismissal of a vampire's ego and a self-righteous one at that.
Alexei was prepared to interject with another jab to Jean's throat but a familiar figure cut between them.
Lovel Fenimore. He wasn't surprised that she was studying this school given Cross Academy's pedigree, but he hadn't expected her to attend these types of events. She never seemed interested in mingling with other vampires, much less aristocrats. The only reason she spoke to her suitors was to drive them away (him included). Even without touching any of his childhood mementos, he could still remember the days when his mom furiously apologized and the punishments that persisted after he was caught fighting her.
The day that she finally fought back shook him to his core and seeing her again, pulled his lips into a grin.
He'd finally pay her back for the scar on his head.
RPG
