- This topic has 269 replies, 14 voices, and was last updated 3 weeks, 1 day ago by
.
-
Posts
-
SHADOW DROP :]
.
.
.
.
.
– Introductions, Part 2 –
Loops’ District
Joe Schmo had seen many things in his life.
He barely shifted on his stool as the door to the ice cream shop creaked open, and a bell jangled above the open! sign. His gaze – covered by a pair of sunglasses – barely flickered away from the microwave, in which a golden-wrapped lasagna pocket awaited consumption. After all, he was hungry, tired, and the food beyond the glass panel had never looked so inviting.
A boy’s voice remarked, “Any hotels in the area?”
Joe Schmoe was barely surprised to find a one-eyed creature at the counter across from his elbow, brushing ancient gas station lint off his sleeves.
“Nope. The one hotel is closed. Covered in wire and yellow tape for some reason.”
“Dang it.” The creature stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around. He had warm red skin, like a cedar tree. “Cool place.”
Joe glanced down at the wooden counter, and at the words Mags and N were here. His sunglasses flashed. “It’s nowhere, but it’s my nowhere.”
“Yeah?” The boy squinted his eye and turned away.
Joe fell back on his seat, letting the kid wander around the shop. He knew a hitchhiker when he saw one.
His shoulder was cramped. The pain made him swallow, and the dry scaliness of his throat only tickled more. Living a double life was a challenge.
With a plastic spoon, he scooped ice cream from the bottom of a display box. The cool mint flavor eased his throat, and he grinned softly as he tossed the spoon in the trash.
The microwave beeped. Joe turned around to find the glass door swinging.
“What the -“
The cash register dinged, and someone grunted angrily. Joe swung around the counter, and found the boy on the floor, leg tangled in a chip rack stand. He had made a dash for the door.
“Oops…” The boy grinned nervously. “I, uh – really think your place is cool. Like, enough to wear.”
He wiggled his foot.
Joe reached to grab the thief’s wrist. But just as he did this, his body lost all sense of direction.
Gravity switched off. The two people, the cash register, and shelf items all floated toward the ceiling.
They found themselves in air which couldn’t be controlled, even when Joe tried to push himself down. His feet bounced off the floor and sent him towards the wall, where he had a firm hold on a waffle display.
There was an awkward silence.
“I’m Dante.” The boy held up his hand. The lasagna pocket floated out of his sleeve, along with various dollar bills. “Nice to meet you.”
“Joe. You’re a different kind of hitchhiker,” Joe said.
Dante shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a bright glare of light.
Above them, the ceiling now had a hole. A green spotlight shone into the shop. It dazzled everything. A force began to pull every object upward, including Dante.
“Grab my hand,” Joe grunted.
Dante reached in vain for a hold. However, he didn’t seem to be panicking. After a second of consideration, he hooked the chip rack on a chair and slingshot himself over.
The light’s pull suddenly focused on Dante. He swam through the air in vain, and yelped when his leg was sucked into the hole. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You sure?”
“I’m sorry about the food.”
“And the money?”
“And the money. And the keys to your truck.” Dante swallowed, and looked up into the blinding maw.
Joe hesitated a long while. But just as the light began to shrink, he shook his head in begrudging surrender. “Kids.”
He leapt up to take Dante’s hand.
Keilah’s District
Crosshair’s half-lidded eyes flicked to the control panel, where the map flashed with his destination. He was to land in five minutes.
The dragon clone was alone.
The idea of a one-off bounty mission – to catch a rogue criminal – left Crosshair suspicious. Never had an assignment been so vague or unrelated to duty or clone politics at hand. And he was alone. If he was a lesser soldier, he might discredit his own doubts. But Crosshair never discredited his instincts; they were the best aim in the galaxy.
The ship landed on a plain soil ground, surrounded by mist. As Crosshair stepped out, he surveyed the land carefully for any surprises. His sharply angled face contrasted the soft clouds and air around the ship.
He jogged forward for a few minutes, the clearing still not receding to any landmarks.
There was distant movement ahead – a dark form, lumbering awkwardly towards him through the mist. Probably a native creature.
Crosshair’s spines prickled up his back. He loaded his gun without any noise, held it up, relaxed, and –
“Oi! I’m not a rabid cow if that’s what you think!”
A man dragon, wrapped in rope, hopped out of the fog.
“Mundy,” Crosshair sneered, instantly irritated. “Have you been waiting for me?”
He noted the dragon’s tail stinger, wrapped in a thick material, and a hat tipped askew on his head.
Mundy shrugged, looking a bit frustrated, but not unwilling to offload his feelings. “Y’know, I ain’t got a clue how I got here, mate. At least my captor’s methods are pretty efficient. I have to give it to ’em.”
Crosshair nudged Mundy with his rifle. “I’ll take it.”
Mundy laughed. “Whoever your boss is, is private information. I respect that. But ‘e’s a basket case. I’m not wanted by the galaxy.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Course you won’t.” Mundy leaned forward, inches from the clone’s face. “They want you to be in the dark, so you’d come in the first place.”
“Don’t talk, or I’ll gag you.”
Crosshair grabbed the rope at Mundy’s back, and began to lead him to the ship. The sniper’s feet were also tied with the same rope, and Crosshair was unwilling to loosen it, although the slow hopping quickly got on his nerves.
Hopefully Crosshair would never have to take a job like this again. His talents were going to waste. He was ruthless, intolerant of mistakes – the makings of a leader.
As they should have reached the ship, Crosshair found himself standing on ground with smooth grooves. The marks of his landing.
Mundy stopped. “Ha! You have an extra rifle?”
The ship was gone. Crosshair cursed. “Ambush. Where -”
Out of nowhere, white-clothes figures surrounded and circled them. Something hit Crosshair’s head from behind, bringing all the galaxy’s stars into his head.
As blackness swallowed them up, Mundy commented, “I could use a stick like that. Where’d you people get those puppies?”
The stars faded away.
Highscribe’s District
“For the twenty-third time, I am not your god!” Zahlin roared.
The strong man tried to break his bonds – cords strapped to his wrists and knees. He pulled with all his might, but this only resulted in a sharp pain in his arms. The cord fibers bit into his nerves.
He fell onto his side. The people around him exclaimed in a different language, and with some smattered clapping. They grinned, as if Zahlin was a town hero who had returned home.
Zahlin was no local hero. He was a traveling warrior, whose mission had been uncharacteristically interrupted. He didn’t even know there was a village on this part of the map.
Confound random wild villages.
I’m personally not convinced, The Sword chirped, tied to his back. They must sense something powerful, and that’s what they want to worship. I wonder what it is… I wonder if its name starts with S and ends with D…
“Not helping…” Zahlin muttered.
Several primitive warriors crowded him, hands outstretched. He head-butted one, and the man fell with a puff of dust.
With some difficulty, but with much cheering and celebration, they carried him between themselves to the middle of the village. They placed him face downward on a flat stone platform, loosely covered in sticks and rocks.
Aw, look, it’s your throne.
The next few escape attempts were unsuccessful. Whenever Zahlin rolled to the platform’s edge, the villagers pushed him back, and he had no control of his arms or legs.
Anger burned hot, and for a second, he imagined the taste of revenge. But he had no way to deal it out – and what was more, these people weren’t worth it.
The warrior stared darkly into the stone, concentrating. He managed to grasp the hilt of the Sword with his fingers. “What do they want?”
Huh. There’s a prophecy over this place.
With some pulling and pushing, The Sword began to fray the cords. Out of the corner of his eye, Zahlin caught sight of a higher stone. Old grooves outlined a set of pictographs, with a large sphere in the center.
The villagers hummed and bowed with an abnormal rhythm, offering wood bundles. Something snapped and crackled.
Do people eat gods? The Sword wondered.
Suddenly the people swayed backward, eyes wide with horror or excitement. They grasped at their god to touch his clothing.
“Back!” Zahlin jumped up with a sharp reprimand, free and victorious. He growled and flourished his Sword, sending everyone on the run.
Never mind foolish gods and prophecies. This was no time to mess with Zahlin.
Um… What’s that?
The warrior turned from his self-defense, and his eyes flashed with surprise. A gigantic orb of light folded around him, enveloping the platform. The brilliance blinded everyone.
When the people opened their eyes again, their human sacrifice was gone.
Light’s District
Dylan groaned, crashing onto his bed.
He tugged his hair until his frustration abated. Sliding onto the floor, the morning light from a window dancing across his face, the young man stared off into the distance.
Sometimes he wanted to disagree with his dad.
The argument had, well, barely been an argument. Vance was right as usual. Dylan, unable to handle his father’s disappointment burning against his back, had left as quickly as he could.
Now, more than ever, Dylan realized their relationship was different from other parent-child relationships. He normally said it with a laugh. But a wordless feeling always caught in his throat, cutting the humor short.
Something is wrong.
I am the cause.
The feeling threatened to swallow him whole.
No, he imagined it. Vance was his family, that much was simple, and families were rough sometimes. You didn’t give up on them, though.
I can’t. I can’t.
“If only I didn’t care,” Dylan said to himself with a sarcastic grimace.
As he pulled out his phone to doomscroll, his vision warped, as if there was a mirage. Books and papers fluttered off a nearby desk.
“…Huh?” Dylan shivered, unable to speak further.
He fell backward when the mirage burst.
A human sized portal opened in front of him. Round and silvery-white, it pulsed with power.
There were footsteps, and several crisply dressed adults came out, seemingly spawned out of nowhere. They filled up the room within five seconds. Futuristic guns hung from their sides.
Their leader, a woman in shaded glasses, turned her head down to look Dylan in the eye. “Good morning.”
“H-Hi. Is this a dream?” The boy got to his feet, almost falling over. “What the heck is going on?”
“You have been chosen to -”
“Are you from the future?”
“No. You, Dylan, have been chosen to fight in a multi-world battle royale. If you win, your life will significantly improve. I am here to bring you to our facilities.”
Dylan looked up. “Your portal has a what now?”
The woman’s brow creased, ruining her perfectly clean appearance. “This will be much easier if you don’t argue. But you are allowed to say what you like, unlike with some people. And in the Game, you will make your own decisions.”
A long moment of thought passed before he cocked his head decidedly. “…I don’t know about this.”
“You won’t until you come, and this is your only chance. Your life will never change if you don’t.”
Dylan froze.
Whether or not this was a dream, he couldn’t decide where he felt more trapped. His own world paled around him, as if turning into an abstract concept. Vance, Asher, everyone… They became smaller and smaller, until the thought of leaving didn’t shock him.
He took one step. The people around him disappeared, and the portal swallowed him.
Inside was a great white room.
Rae’s District
Alpha lost it. He broke free of the nurses’ grip, roaring, and tried to find a way out of the black and white paneled room.
Unfortunately for him, no exit existed.
“There’s no help for it, Alpha.” Another strongly built man leaned his elbows on his knees, rubbing lines from his forehead.
“I refuse needles,” Alpha hissed chillingly.
“Relax,” his nurse said. “We need to check your vitals before the competition. As your friend said, there is nowhere to go. Outside this room, you will never find the portal to your home world.”
Up until that point, the tight-stringed warrior of Grathmere had not reacted with weakness to the medical attention. Now his face was tinged with gray, like an animal slowly reverting to raw instincts. Even his red eyes seemed to lighten from stress.
“This is unlike you,” his friend said.
“They have taken our weapons and Mithaln. They have no respect for our possessions or our freedom.”
A tribute standing several stations away called, “Took you this long to figure it out?”
Alpha’s expression faded into a hardened silence.
The other man chuckled a little. He was Terry Challenger Ward, a friend – which was as much as to say, Alpha had an extended line of perception that sometimes made fun of him. This time the laugh was mostly for the sake of it rather than any quality humor.
Alpha had been ripped from his planet in a moment of surprise, placed in this forsaken colorless realm, and stripped of his rights. Only Terry had heard of this Game, but he knew nothing of what it might entail.
Terry closed his eyes as his blood was taken. His skin became paler, if that was even possible. “It will be okay. It’s not like we aren’t equipped for this.”
Alpha should have known something like this would happen. He was made to hunt and kill. He should have known freedom wasn’t an option.
“You might recover your armor on the first day,” a nurse quietly whispered.
How comforting.
Before the fact registered, the needle pressed into his left shoulder. A mysterious liquid pumped into his bloodstream, only managing to be half emptied before Alpha knocked the contraption away.
Flashes of a time long past echoed in his veins, like streams of water bursting from a dam.
His scarlet eyes pulsated. His heart rate, monitored, steadily rose.
“Try to use your abilities,” Terry muttered, distracting him. “The situation calls for it.”
Alpha focused his writhing, calculated mind, but any source of energy evaporated in thin air. It was akin to grabbing at mist.
All power was gone.
How?
What could restrict his own birthright?
“He will answer your questions,” another nurse whispered.
“Who?”
No answer.
After a few more tantalizing minutes, which felt like hours, the two men rose and were led along a pale hall. It seemingly had no end. The doors on either side sparkled, made of what appeared to be liquid mirror.
Freedom’s District
With a flash, Riker stepped through his bedroom door into a brilliantly blinding hallway.
He immediately held a hand over his eyes, and fell against a wall for balance. Looking down at his clothes, he looked so bleak and bedraggled in comparison to the strangely cool atmosphere.
Goosebumps pricked up his back. “Is someone… I-Iris?”
He was a fool to think his wife was there… but the edge of skepticism felt dulled here.
“Is anyone there?” he called. “Where is this?”
Footsteps fell nearby. Next to him, another flash of light, and someone else muttering in surprise.
Eventually Riker’s eyes adjusted, and he looked up to see a small woman in white, who studied him peacefully. Behind her, several other individuals traveled up and down the hall.
“Hello Riker,” she said. “You and another from your world are welcomed… in light of the Game.”
“What?”
“You may choose to believe this is a dream. Nevertheless, you will compete in a survival game in less than two hours. Before that we shall feed you and provide uniform clothes. Welcome.” She smiled and tilted her head, indicating him to follow.
As Riker strode along, he saw many strange people. None of them made him feel particularly comfortable, except for some soft-eyed teenagers who smiled at him as they passed – and this only made him feel more nervous for all their safety.
“I’m going back home, right?” the young soldier sped up to come beside his guide. “I have to return.”
“There is only one way to go back. To win the Game.”
“…No. That’s not right. You have to -”
“I cannot do anything for you. Once you are here, there is only one way.” Her face betrayed little emotion.
This is not right.
But Riker didn’t feel shock like he otherwise would expect. This… everything was true. He felt as if this was a dream, and the calm settled in his chest didn’t fade as the seconds passed.
And besides, hadn’t this kind of thing happened before?
Where Riker was woken up from happiness, and thrust into a sharp new reality?
You learned to numb yourself in all situations. To focus on the goal – the next thing. No matter how much things felt wrong.
“Riker!” A warm voice rumbled nearby. Someone gripped his shoulder. “It’s nice to see you, even if you aren’t real.”
A well-built man brushed his hair back, and two sparkling gray eyes surveyed everything. No matter how normal the man’s clothes and face was, to Riker, he looked like an angel.
“Fin,” Riker grinned.
“We’re both here, huh?” Fin fell into pace with them. His own guide lady noted this, and moved away to leave the two on their converged path. “At first I thought this was heaven, but I never felt like heaven would be this sterile.”
“Me neither…”
They both took a moment to quietly ponder the situation. But it didn’t take long to know one thing.
“We stick together?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s good to see you, Riker.”
Smiley’s District
So this is the end.
Diana stared down at her new outfit.
It seemed practical enough. The jumpsuit fit her like a glove, although the orange color and white stripes on the sides were an eyesore. She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked around.
All twenty-four participants stood in a foyer, a locked door in front of them. In such a bright white room, they all looked scruffy and dark in comparison. An aura of awkwardness left them silent.
They wore the same jumpsuits. Some of them were strangely not as fitted. A couple children had oversized clothing, but so did a middle-aged man. Some wore belts, others had leg bags. A boy had a pocket over his chest, and his clothes had suspenders instead of sleeves. Another had extra pockets on his back.
Diana faded into the background, trying not to interact with anyone. Her dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and hid her hand as she fumbled with her stitched collar number.
Number 18.
The only thought in Diana’s mind was… why?
She surprised herself. Normally she wouldn’t think, wouldn’t question it. This was her life now, and the sooner she accepted it, the longer she would last.
But something in her heart twinged as she watched these tributes.
A little girl hugged her alien pet, nervously watching a fox next to her. She backed away, and let out an eep of surprise, bumping into a taller red-eyed man.
Diana sighed, and tried very hard not to imagine herself and the girl as the last survivors. Hopefully something like that would never happen.
As she leaned on one leg, curling her hair around her fingers, someone approached her. It was a girl, a little taller than Diana herself, with light-colored hair that could have been electrocuted in a different life, but toned down to controllable curls. Her smile was open and conversational.
“I’m Esper,” Number 17 said. “We’re from the same district, I think. But I’ve never met you before.”
“No.”
“What are you going to do? Most people are making a plan while we wait. Some people are teaming up.”
“Are you worried you can’t survive on your own?” Diana asked quietly. She hadn’t missed the subtextual suggestion. Everyone wanted to make friends.
The girl’s eyebrows shot up. “I can survive by myself. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“What’s your problem?” Esper checked herself, realizing it wasn’t a good idea to make enemies. She picked up her fox and moved away.
A few minutes later, an invisible speaker blared over their heads. “Line up in single file and enter the meeting room. The President wants to speak with you.”
There was a pause. Then everyone rushed to find their place. Those more confident in the group pressed together at the door, which opened before long. They filed in, leaving Diana to enter last.
She took a deep breath.
They must have given us sedatives to calm us down.
That did not change the fact that a dozen worlds – maybe more – represented themselves in this room. As Diana stepped over the door frame, she joined her world with theirs.
None of them were going to give up easily.
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper wowwwwww that was amazing! My charries were spot on. Poor Mundy all tied up though lol
honestly it makes me really sad that only one character is getting out alive from this. I know the chance of one of my guys being The One is effectively zero, so I decided to not be so sad for them specifically. They can handle it—they were kinda made for this, and I mean given that Mundy at the least was derived from a video game he’ll probably just, like, respawn in his home world or something upon dying, as usual—but all the other characters who weren’t made to fight like this are going to be in big trouble.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
I’m gonna go draw some fan art for this, be right back lol
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
also this is gonna sound super morbid but if there’s gonna be death, then I wouldn’t mind seeing someone fall to Mundy’s tail stab. Probably said that already but whatever.
actually, Crosshair doesn’t have venom in his tail but the end is really thin and has spikes, and he can crack it like a whip, so that’d be cool to see too.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
So…
Alpha’s part was okay. Not perfect, but okay.
I’m not sure how they’d block his powers, since the only way to do that effectively is make him very tired, but Alpha has an extreme immunity to basically anything so…it’d take more than half of a vile to do that unless it was some super potion, but whatever. It doesn’t matter too much.
The thing that does matter is Alpha would have been much more violent, like cuts and bruises and unconscious people all around. Alpha goes berserk an no one’s safe.
Terry’s POV isn’t exactly how I imagined it (for one, he’d also be very wary and probably resisting, but less violently. More like verbal protests about them using strange stuff. Continue past verbal protests and two berserk elite warriors have just been awakened from their dormant states. Nice job people!) But it’s fine. This is an AU
Sorry, I feel like I’m slamming you against the wall here.
The opening line was perfect XD.
"You need French Toast."
Thank yooouuu!! It took me very long to write that. And you never know, each of your characters have roughly a 4% chance of winning.
I’m gonna go draw some fan art for this, be right back lol
Oooh that’s a good idea.
also this is gonna sound super morbid but if there’s gonna be death, then I wouldn’t mind seeing someone fall to Mundy’s tail stab.
😃
“Everything is a mountain”
I actually pictured you would have a few pointers XD
I decided this Game realm would know everything about these characters and have everything to neutralize them. So even if Alpha was immune to everything under the sun, this realm will have something to control him. I guess it’s a cheat card, but y’know, I’m not a fair player. 😛
Thank you for the POV thoughts! Will remember next time. (*scribble notes* More… punching…) And yes, I figured Alpha should lose his mind a little.
“Everything is a mountain”
What does that mean? What does 😃mean?
also 4% is still effectively zero in my mind lol. Going through this assuming they’ll die makes it hurt less when they do XD
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
I am a little worried I took some of the POVs too far in my imagination, and if I did, I’m sorry. Some of them I interpreted humorously without thinking much about their actual story 😅
😃
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAAAAAAN
anyway
here’s my fan art
Mundy’s a little too short (he should be only an inch or two shorter than Cross) and I feel like I made one of Crosshair’s hands too small, but I LOVE how they turned out with the Hunger Games style uniforms. They look really cool. Also, I doubt they’d let Mundy keep his hat in the real thing but I just headcanoned they let him keep it and just, like, switched out the colors to match his jumpsuit.
also, I have a few music tracks that we can use as a soundtrack for this fic if you’d like to hear them!
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
although you said the jumpsuits are orange, when I looked up Hunger Games jumpsuits they were black, so that’s how I colored them lol
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.