What Happened in Salem

[Curious Anamaximder]

Inhuman opened his eyes. What they... Where was he? As his eyes adapted, changing to the light, he realized his fight arena was water. He was standing waist deep in water. And, also standing in water, was the minor Epic Retro. Inhuman looked down at his outfit. And found he was only wearing a Speedo. He snarled in rage. Soulcaster will pay for this. But first, his power. His body adapted changing to the water. Gills popped out of his cheeks, his feet got webbed.

Retro grinned, his hands glowing as he fired a Pacman at Inhuman. The Pacman started sucking up the water, heading towards Inhuman. Inhuman leaped forward about 6 feet and turned the Pacman into pixels. Then he had to duck to avoid a punch from a Donkey Kong. Inhuman punched back.

Things were heating up. Inhuman dodged laser bolts from a Galaga plane, twisted to avoid falling Tetris blocks, kicked a Dig Doug and punched another Pacman. Time to end this. Bleeding, and healing, shot towards Retro. Retro barely had time to scream something coherent before Inhuman killed him with a single punch.

[Blackhoof]

Lady Deathskull woke with a start, the agony of her burnt body echoing from her dream. It took her several minutes to gather her thoughts as the pain faded into memory, and the parts of her body that had been burnt still stung. Soon, even the stinging faded, although she could remember the pain, the mind-numbingly extreme pain that had entombed her. Her own metal, turned into a weapon against her.

 

Looking around, Deathskull saw that she was back where she sat down this morning- in the Salem arena bleachers. Around her were both Epics and vanillas, all deeply asleep and in the same shared dream she had been in. Not everyone was asleep though- she saw servants walking through the rows on business, staff around the periphery of the stadium, and some Epic and vanilla guards scattered around. Several were in Soulcaster's personal box, where the ruler of Salem sat, asleep like the rest of them. She recognised the Epic who had first greeted her, the head enforcer or something, standing by him, wide awake surveying the crowd. 

 

Suddenly Soulcaster raised his head, looking straight at her. He had a malicious smirk on his face.

Deathskull frowned, thinking to herself. "Why would he be smirking like that? I won, didn't I? Those burns were embarrassing but.... oh..."

That was when she something occurred to her. That cheetah Epic had been made to fight in a tutu- very amusing, but a petty act. But why? He had been there when the rude enforcer had accosted her, perhaps... it was punishment. And if that was his punishment as a mere bystander, how would Soulcaster punish her, who had apparently committed an offence by putting the vanillas in their places.

 

By putting her in a fight with an Epic who could cause her immeasurable agony with every attack.

 

Rage boiled inside of her, and she shot to her feet, skull face twisting into a mask of rage. She went to move her arms upwards, to raise herself into the air and massacre that stupid, smirking Epic when she felt her armour resist. Completely. It didn't move with her. Rage turned into confusion as she tried to move the arms of her armour, usually an action so intrinsic that she didn't need to think about it. But they weren't moving. They were as unyielding as metal was to anyone but her. It was as if... she had lost her power. And seeing the sadistic grin on the face of an Epic that stood near Soulcaster, looking right at her, she knew that she had.

 

A vanilla walked up beside her. "E-excuse me, Ms Deathskull?"

"....what" she spat through gritted teeth.

"Lord Soulcaster wishes you to know that when Showstopper has returned your powers to you, you are welcome to join him in his personal box for a meal. H-he says that you must be hungry after your fight."

 

Lady Deathskull was silent for several seconds, immobile inside her own armour, her protection once again used as a weapon against her.

 

".....Well...." Deathskull finally responded, forcing a cordial tone. "It would be rude to refuse such a... generous offer, would it not? Tell him that I accept. Tell me... when does this Showstopper plan on returning my power?"

 

"When... w-when Soulcaster believes that you have... um... learnt your lesson, m'lady." The servant cringed at even repeating such insolent words to an Epic, even a powerless one.

 

"I... see." Lady Deathskull replied and the servant scurried off, eager to escape while her impotent rage welled within her. 

[the winter system]

Winter (Olivia)

Winter (Bone)

Voidus(Meliability)

(Color to be edited in later)

Olivia opened her eyes and saw the most recent arena. This fight was Meliability versus Bone. Bone, the weird bone Epic which Olivia hadn’t seen before but she heard Micro ran into her in the bar, was on one side of a maze. She recognized the bone Epic from the weird bone pieces sticking out of her body- ick. Meliability was on the other side.

The spectators were in huge seats tilted down. One had a flag they were waving in the air. I <3 Bone. They were screaming.

“Welcome to Meliability versus Bone!” Olivia shouted into the microphone. “This maze, made of whatever I don’t really know or care, seems to be designed to trick the contestants into running into each other, though it might not work.”

Bone listened to the commentator with half an ear. She focussed on pushing up on the bones. She used extra bone to shoot up and hook onto the maze.

“And Bone’s getting on top of things.” Olivia laughed at her pun and the rest of the audience roared. “But things may not work as well as she thinks ‘cause the maze is shifting.”

Bone roared in frustration as she was knocked back into the maze. The walls grew higher. Bone took a step and then the wall came crashing down towards her. Bone dodged out of the way and pushed herself backwards.

“Walls are breaking down as Bone tries to move. Let’s see what’s Meliability’s doing on the other side of the maze…”

Meliability opened her eyes, seeing what dreams lay in store for her this time.A large stone wall stood before her, another behind, forming a passage that quickly turned into an intersection.

It looked like Soulcaster had given her a giant maze to play in this time. Quickly looking down, Mel checked that her outfit was her same lacy black dress and not a silly pink one like the kitty from earlier

Satisfied she gave a little jump before waving up at the sky, the people would be watching somewhere, she hoped they’d have as much fun as she did. Otherwise she’d have to play with them til they were having fun and regular people were so boring to play with.

Remembering suddenly that she was in the middle of a game, Mel grabbed hold of her scythe with both hands, scrunched up her tiny legs and took a giant rush into the passage, the wind roaring in her ears as it was caught along with her sudden speed, she looked like nothing so much as a tiny black and silver blur as she raced through the maze, scythe trailing behind her.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

“Taunting the opponent, eh Meliability? She’s ready, look out Bone, someone’s coming hunting. I suppose you think that she won’t be bone hard to break!”

The audience chuckled.

Bone roared. It was annoying.

“THIS. STUPID. COMMENTATOR!” She yelled, then began to run, pushing up on stilts of bone. She might not be able to run along the walls, but she could get the height.

“And look, the bone thick Epic over here’s getting a tad bit annoyed. Oh well, hope she won’t get run over by that spark of silver.”

Bone turned a corner and saw a blur of black and silver, bolting past her. “Try to run, eh?” Bone shot out a tendril of bone, then growing it up to block the exit. The blur- Meliability- crashed into the wall and Bone dropped down from the stilts.

Shaking herself off as she regained her footing from the sudden crash, Mel drew her scythe up next to her as she examined her new friend.

Her scythe shrank as she did so, the blade forming into one the size of her arm rather than taller than her entire body, the extra mass turned into a long chain.

Whirling the chain around her head, Mel leapt six foot into the air before lashing out with the newly formed sickle and chain.

“Meliability KICK!” She yelled, naming sense thrown to the wind as she made no attempt to kick her opponent whatsoever.

Bone watched as the girl - who was obviously Meliability unless there were like, feints to throw the Epics off guard… wow, that would be a cool idea… If Bone was- okay, don’t get distracted Bone. The scythe she held shrunk and there was a long chain attached to it.

“Weapon switching- cool moves! Now, that is a big jump!”

Meliability leapt into the air and yelled something about kicks. Bone shot up a tendril of bone- not hers- to catch the sickle and chain. She formed it into a basic claw and jerked her to the ground using the weapon.

Breath puffing out of her as she was slammed into the flaw, a small pop alerted Mel that her jaw had dislocated again, the pain that most people would feel at such an injury registered only dimly within her mind.

"Ouch, that outta hurt. Bone slams Meliability's face into the ground."

Not even picking herself up off the ground this time, Mel changed her weapon once again, chain forming into a solid length as the sickle at its end rounded into a firm lump of metal.

Wielding her new warhammer as lightly as other children her age might play with foam swords, Mel pushed herself up and backwards somersaulting in the air to land back on her feet.

"Always the ninja, Meliability's up on her feet again. Bone steps forward as if to do something, but Meliability seems confident in her ability."

Pushing her jaw back into place with one hand, Mel slammed the hammer forwards with the other, exerting all of her enhanced strength against the strange ivory protrusions her new friend was creating.

Tag, you’re it!

The rebounding force of her strike hammering along the bones sent Mel reeling into another backflip, her enhanced dexterity easily gaining her balance and continuing by cartwheeling back down the passage at high speed.

“Nyah nyah, can’t catch me!” Pausing her floor routine briefly to stick her tongue out at Bones Mel dashed through the maze, jumping from floor to wall to floor again to present a difficult target.

"Run away? This is Meliability's grand strategy? Not going to get away with it for long, though."

A second later, Mel noticed something was off, her feet began sinking into the solid walls of the maze, not gaining enough purchase to properly push off she fell to the ground once more, just as several spears of stone erupted from the walls to block her path.

It looked like Soulcaster hadn’t wanted her to play tag this time.

Well there’s still plenty of games to play.

A sparse moment later and she’d blurred right back to her playmate, her hammer kicking up a miniature whirlwind with the force of its passage as it sped towards Bones once more.

"Turning back to Bone, who looks almost bored. Whatever her bone creations

The little girl ran off, leaving Bone plenty of time to set up. Her bones coated the maze so Meliability's feet would sink into it if she pushed off them. She created a miniature maze of bones within the big one.

"Come back and play, child." Bone taunted. The girl rounded the corner with her hammer, pushing off of the ground towards her.

Her feet sunk into the ground that Bone had coated.

Bone grew a spear of warm bone and snapped it off. She stalked forward towards the girl Epic, the bone reaching up out of the ground to form a cage.

“Aw no fair!” Mel shouted through her cage, playing wasn’t very fun if you couldn’t run about!

Unable to maneuver enough to swing her battle axe, she resorted to her scythe once more, somewhat smaller than its usual size now.

A thousand strikes struck the cage as Meleability blurred into motion once more, each one carving a small chunk out of the ivory structure. But even as the wind of her weapons passage dashed her slight frame about inside the cage the bones repaired themselves, keeping her trapped as the other Epic walked steadily towards her.

Bone smirked and sent a spike of bone shooting out of her chest. It hit Meliability in the gut, smashing into a bone. A rib? Bone pulled it out, absorbing Meliability's skeleton into herself.

"I win." She said as the skeletonless girl collapsed onto the ground.

"And a first win for Bone! Put your hands together!" The crowd went wild. "I've been Olivia Cipher, your commentator and this has been Meliability versus Bone. Come back next time to see what happened in Salem!"

[Voidus]

Soulcaster, ruler of the Salem Arena applauded the end of the match. The two combatants had both attempted to circumvent the game but that was entertaining in its own way. And entertainment was all that Soulcaster cared about.

Let the other Epic rulers duke out their control of cities and lands, let the masses fight over food and safety. Soulcaster had known on the day he was Chosen that such things need no longer bother him. He had evolved past the needs of lesser beings. With barely a thought he could construct entire realities, intricate in detail, within half a minute he could rid the entire city of his rivals if he wished it. But when you could create a universe exactly as you wished it there was one thing that became immediately obvious.

Having everything you could ever want was incredibly boring.

 

Some might find pleasure in endlessly feeding their carnal desires. Indeed, Soulcaster catered to many Epics and men of such quality. But Soulcaster himself needed something different. He needed fresh ideas, he needed creativity, surprise and emotion. He needed the Arena.

His Arena, where Epics and sometimes lesser beings did battle, the endless array of abilities and tactics was the one source of entertainment that satisfied Soulcaster.

And so the Arena had become his sole focus. He left the running of the city itself to others, so long as the arena was supported he would let the likes of Mouldbreaker run loose in the city relatively unsupervised. The fighting Epics were kept under control, Salems reputation grew, and if one of the Epics tried to seize the city from him? Well he'd show them the realities he'd made for the first Epics who'd thought they could fight Soulcaster.

Projecting to the center of the arena, Soulcaster ended the Dreamstate for the crowd, causing a sea of eye rubbing and stretching as their souls found their way back to their body.

"This mornings brackets have now ended." He said, delivering his usual midday address. "The Arena will resume in one hours time for the afternoon brackets. Congratulations to the victors, and to those who were defeated, you shall have plenty more chances."

Dismissing the projection, Soulcaster stood up with his real body, retreating through the Stadium to his dining room. Some of the combatants were already waiting, Savannah from the first match eyed him with anger. That one could be an interesting addition to the permanent roster, perhaps aided by some other animals for an Epics vs. Beasts fight.

Taking his seat, Soulcaster allowed Mouldbreaker to leave for the day.

He would 'patrol the city', seeing to any unruly Epics not participating at the arena and taking care of whatever other business he might have.

The young Meliability walked cheerfully into the room, smiling at Soulcaster, perhaps one of the only Epics in the city that didn't really fear him. He wasn't sure if it was her age, that she was local or if she'd simply gone insane. The cause didn't particularly matter, she'd provided him with many entertaining matches in the past.

Blurring around the tables and unseating more than a few of the other Epics with her motion, Meliability took a seat nearby, shoveling half a chicken into her mouth and chewing at high speeds.

Swallowing a small chuckle, Soulcaster turned to the other combatants, they'd earned the right to come speak to him if they wished, to offer some trade or make a request. He hoped none did today, answering requests was profoundly boring.

[Quiver]

Sentry was a blonde today. She smiled, and knocked on the door.

 

"One moment," a voice called from within. Sentry checked her notebook, ignoring the sound of scatter and rush from within the home. She pocketed it as the door opened, a harassed-looking woman opening it.

 

"How can I help-" she began, her voice cutting off, and her face losing color, as she recognized Sentry. Whatever her hair color might be, it was hard to forget the face that was looking at you everyday.

 

"Good morning Madison," Sentry said sweetly. "May I come in?"

 

The woman didn't answer, as if she really had any choice in the matter. She opened the door, and Sentry entered, her attendants following behind her.

 

Sentry glanced about the kitchen as she entered, looking up. Just above the door was a red poster, a brunette staring haughtily out of it. 

She snapped her fingers. Madison started, as if unsure what she was supposed to do.

Idiot, Sophie thought, rolling her eyes. But she shouldn't have been too harsh. After all, Sentry had made her arrival at a rather inopportune moment.

 

One of her guards brought a small stepladder, setting it up. Sentry took his hand, and ascended it, until she was level with the poster. She ripped it off the wall, tucked it into her pocket. She held out a hand, and a thick roll was pressed into it. She unwound the roll, waited for someone to slap some glue across the back, then pressed it into place above the door frame. 

She leaned back a moment, admiring her handiwork, before descending.

 

"The living room, the bathroom, the bedroom," she directed, distributing posters to her attendants. "And don't mind the young man under the covers. I'm sure he won't object." 

 

As if he would. Everyone knew the rules. Sentry had the right to put posters wherever she wanted-

(Well, almost everywhere. It wasn't as if Soulcaster would let her put them in his offices...)

-not to mention the television and radios in case she needed to make a government announcement.

 

As they worked, she pulled the poster out of her pocket.

What was I thinking?

Red paper, with a haughty woman in the center, staring haughtily out of it She had modelled it after pictures she had seen of posters from old Russia. Some funny-looking backwards letters, and her, in a uniform, glaring at the people below.

She rolled her eyes. The sooner she burned these the better. They were getting old anyway; some of them ahd been up for a whole fortnight.

 

She glanced at the new design. Much better. A picture of herself -blonde, of course- bathed in golden light. It had taken some time to find the appropriate font, but she had finally managed it, and printed beneath the picture were three simple words:

 

I'M ALWAYS WATCHING

 

Finally, her attendants finished, gathering their supplies. "On to the next house," Sentry said briskly. The group started to walk away.

As they reached the door, however, Sentry paused.

 

"Madison," she said softly, "what do you think of my new hairstyle?"

The vanilla leapt again. "It... it's wonderful, miss," she said. "It suits you."

 

Sentry smiled. "Thank you. Have a pleasant day." She considered something, then Looked. "Your husband is leaving the arena. I would recommend you two finish up quickly."

 

She closed the door behind herself, smiling beatifically. She was a truly caring person. After all, if Madison's husband came home, it would become very difficult for the young man in the bedroom to explain why he was sleeping with both vanilla's, wouldn't it? That could cause complications.

Salem did not need complications.

 

She walked towards the next building, her stack of posters at the ready. She had a long day ahead of her... but it would be a satisfying one.

[RippleGylf]

Heartsleeve strutted down the sidewalks of Salem proudly. She knew that the more confident one looked, the more awe one received. Of course, this was far from the highest point in her life. Still, she had the right to lord over others. 

 

The problem was, she didn't know where she was walking to. The truth was, she needed a place in society. Having been just driven out of Sacremento, along with the epic that ruled there, she needed a stable location. Hearing of the local arena, she figured this would be the perfect place to find one. Her powers weren't suited for that kind of battle, however, so she refrained from actually participating. So far, she hadn't found anything promising. Hence her stroll. She hadn't even found a place to stay yet.

 

Perhaps she should focus on that for the time being. Confidently, she entered a hotel and walked up to the front desk. 

 

"I would like a room here indefinitely," she calmly stated.

 

"Of course, miss," the attendant replied, "It will cost around 600 dollars a night, but I am sure-"

 

"I said," Heartsleeve interrupted, "I would like a room here. Should I have to pay for it?"

 

"No, of course not, miss," he stuttered, finally realizing what kind of customer was speaking to him. "I'll just go make some arrangements and-" Suddenly, an intense wave of fear came over him. 

 

"That won't be necessary. Would you please show me to my room? I get rather impatient," she grinned. Seeing people cower was one of the few true joys in life.

Edited November 16, 2015 by RippleGylf

[Blackhoof]

The next fight finished, and as the stadium returned to their bodies, Lady Deathskull felt herself regain control of her own. 

 

Her imprisonment had given her time to think. Clearly, that Epic could prevent her from using at least one of her powers. With an Epic like that on his side, there was about zero chance of exacting any sort of revenge on Soulcaster. Her only option was to either leave, or continue the fights. Now that she thought about it, the fight had had a sort of... thrill to it. And other fights would too.

 

She tried to move, and finally her armour moved with her. Lifting herself up, she flew away from the arena, back towards the hotel room she had been given. "I need a rest, and a decent meal." She muttered to herself, "after the day I've just had."

 

She flew in through her window, opening and closing it with her powers. With a thought, her helmet detached itself and hovered onto her bedside table. After a short call on the provided phone, room service was on its way. Laying down on the bed, Deathskull sighed. "Maybe this place isn't so bad after all...."

[Mailliw73]

Part 1/2 of a Collab between me and Mek:

---

Mouldbreaker sat in pitch darkness, waiting for the arena to configure. Sometimes, he forgot just how little Soulcaster cared about how Salem was run.

 

Mouldbreaker had come to him with a very pressing issue: Truthcharm, a volunteer City Guard, had attempted to murder an innocent newcomer in the name of entertainment. He had expected Soulcaster to order Truthcharm killed... or at least have his license revoked. His only question? "When was the last time you took a turn in the arena?"

 

Mouldbreaker hardly even cared about these stupid fights anymore. Fame and fortune? He saw firsthand what they did to people. The "victors" in Salem were little more than dry husks, turning to drugs and alcohol in their spare time in an attempt to artificially elongate the length of their Dreamstate timeslots.

 

His idea of a good time was going on patrol. At least that was constructive. Mouldbreaker was pretty sure that if he went on break for more than three days, the town would tear itself apart. Mouldbreaker had been a traffic cop before Calamity, and it showed in his respect for order and efficiency. He honestly believed he was willing to die to prevent the city from falling to anarchy.

 

Soulcaster didn't seem to pay the city mind anymore. Mouldbreaker had heard stories that his original goal in creating the Salem arena was to make an Epic haven through controlled violence. Give all of those hotheaded Epics a chance to blow off steam, and they might just be able to tolerate civilized life. It had been years, however, since the man had done anything except sit in McCulloch Stadium, creating arenas and figuring matchups. Salem had claimed him just as easily as any of its contenders. Didn't anyone understand how fake it all was? How the entire town structure was based off of the bizarre powerset of a fragile old man?

 

The darkness lifted, revealing a massive, glass dome.

---

Alex dressed in his gladiatorial outfit: form-fitting navy blue with black plates of thick Kevlar. When Alex had moved to Salem, he had heard of these Epic battles. He had come to join them and join he did. Alex, or Alexio Maximus, as the Salem population knew him, had dominated the human fights and had moved into the Epic bracket. He only fought lesser Epics or, as in today's case, depowered Epics. 

Alex had become the champion for the human population of Salem and an interesting contender for the Epics. In exchange for a couple of fights per week, he was allowed a good life. Soulcaster kept his deals.

Gearing up for the fight, Alex shook out his anxiety and began warming up his body. Mouldbreaker was famous around town. He kept peace in town and had pretty good standings in the battles. But today, the gladiator would triumph over his oppressor. 

---

Dome? No. A sphere. About two hundred paces wide and criss-crossed with stairs and ladders as if a mad spider had decided to build a web inside of it. All around the perimeter, Mouldbreaker saw masses of cheering vanillas, though he couldn't hear them through the soundproof barrier. Some of the sphere's panels were opaque, colored in a seemingly random assortment of hues.

 

A voice boomed through the arena. That would be Olivia. "Alright, folks, let's get started! On the bottom of the sphere is our town's most famous Jell-O aficionado, Mouldbreaker! On the... other bottom, is the up-and-coming vanilla challenger, Alexio Maximus!" Mouldbreaker noted the name.

 

"Obviously, the arena is endowed with Earth-gravity at the edges. Both contestants have had their powersets switched to enhanced strength and durability, and will be leading a group of heroic soldiers into..." She lowered her voice menacingly. "...mortal, hand-to-hand combat, to the DEATH!" Sure enough, a group of unarmed soldiers popped into existence around him.

 

The speaker blipped back on. "Oh, um, yes," Olivia said quickly, "victory is achieved when the enemy Team Leader is dead or incapacitated in a way approved by our beloved leader. Have a nice fight!"

 

Mouldbreaker did a quick inventory check. He counted twenty-five grinning vanillas on his team, uniformed in his customary red. "Alright everyone! Check your pockets. I doubt Soulcaster would make us fight unarmed."

 

They shuffled about, obeying his orders uncertainly. These obviously weren't arena regulars, but that made sense. Giving Mouldbreaker inexperienced extras was an easy way to balance a fight featuring one of the arena's oldest veterans.

 

Mouldbreaker recognized one of the vanillas. Julia Soderquist? He was pretty sure she was a worker at Think Tank's bar. He'd have to question her about the outcome of Truthcharm's attack sometime.

 

As Julia dug around in her back pocket, she found something interesting. A small key with a green tag attached to it. Other soldiers pulled out something similar.

 

Ten keys. Each with a different-colored tag. I've never seen anything like this before.

 

Julia spoke up. "Not exactly weapons, sir. What do you think these open? By the way, I'm absolutely stoked to be here. I've always wanted to get a chance to fight. Do you think that if we win, I could do it again? What faux-powerset do you think I would get if I killed an Epic in-"

 

Mouldbreaker tuned her out. Other soldiers were adding their enthusiasm at being picked for arena participation, but he needed to focus. Directly above them, the enemy was already in motion. He could only see the top of their heads, but they had obviously gotten a plan together already, scuttling around like that.

 

He inspected the floor again, then noticed something. The red panel they had been standing on had a keyhole inscribed into it. Could it be some sort of safe built into the floor? He called out for the soldier holding the red key, whose nametag identified him as "Malcolm," to open it.

 

The key didn't fit. Mouldbreaker growled. If his powerset hadn't been modified, he would have been able to simply transfersate the lid and have full access to whatever was inside. Not having his abilities was like losing an arm or leg.

 

He took another look at the odd panels around the dome. Steel painted various colors, and outlined either red or blue. His was red with a blue border. Red for the key's tag, he decided, and outlined blue for which side's key can open it.

 

Well, if that was how they were going to get weapons, he'd better get started. He organized and led the still-yammering group of soldiers over to the nearest red-outlined panel.

 

If the thing was filled with a pack of angry velociraptors or something, his first order of business post-death would be to solidly punch Soulcaster in the face.

---

 

Alexio Maximus appeared in a glass sphere. Gravity pulled him towards the outside of the sphere, but ladders and stairs filled the space between where he stood and his opponent directly above him. Quickly scanning around him, he saw twenty-five fellow humans behind him. He recognized about half as being contenders in the human bracket. A few he had fought with before. 

"Marc, Rob, and Lily, take five others and group up. Marc's squad is A, Rob's is B, Lily's is C," Alexio Maximus commanded. The others quickly followed his orders. The remaining eight, including himself, split into two groups of four. Alexio checked their nametags and chose one of the women he had fought before to be in charge of one unit and a man to be in charge of the other. Alexio Maximus tuned out the annoying Cipher girl's voice. He had already figured out the gravity and army. 

When she announced the win condition to be eliminating the other team's leader, Alexio called out, "Marc, switch me nametags." The two men swapped tags and went back into their squads. Alexio would pretend to be just another human soldier in Squad D, following Eva's orders. All clad in black and navy blue, the army spread out by squad. 

Lily pulled a key out of her pocket. "Alexio, I found this," she said. It had a purple tag attached to it. Nine others also pulled out keys of various colors. The colors of the keys matched the colors of a few panels spread all over the globe. Scanning the ground nearest him, Alexio found a green panel with a red outline and a yellow panel outlined with blue. He ordered the two with corresponding yellow and green keys to open the panels. 

The one with a green key called back that the panel wouldn't open. But the yellow one did, revealing a pile of knives and a couple of swords. Alexio Maximus looked up and saw the red bedecked army above trying similar tactics. Red. The panels with red outlines must be for their keys. "Soldiers, ignore the red-outlined panels. Our keys open the blue ones." Understanding dawned on their faces. "Give me all the keys you have." Some reluctantly handed over the one thing they had to differentiate them. But this was war and war didn't care about feelings. 

"Marc, Squad A, you take these weapons and run forward to attack them from behind. Go," Marc understood Alexio's command and his squad gathered up the knives and ran. 

Alexio Maximus turned to Rob. "B, you're on point duty. Get to the enemy as quickly as possible and begin disrupting their progress. Kill at your leisure. Move out." Alexio gave Rob a key for the red, with a blue outline, panel right by the other army. Rob saluted and led his squad up the ladders directly toward Mouldbreaker's army. Beyond the midpoint, gravity would reverse and Rob's squad would be attacking the red army from above while Marc's came up on their flank. 

Alexio assigned Squad C to take the remaining eight keys and gather up all the weapons they could and distribute them to their army. His squad and Squad E would take a sword each and head for Mouldbreaker's army's sides. They were to take the enemy's keys and keep them at whatever cost. But Mouldbreaker himself was the ultimate goal. The last two squads split and headed off in their own directions on the lattice of stairs and ladders above.

[Mckeedee123]

Part 2/2 of a collab between me and Maill:

---

Jason's key fit neatly into the brown-red panel, and Mouldbreaker pulled it open easily with his enhanced strength. The panel turned out to be a box built into the side of the arena. Inside he found a crossbow (but no ammo,) some CB radios, a large box of Butterfinger's and a yo-yo. Not exactly what he had been expecting, but at least it wasn't a trap.

 

He nervously looked up to the sphere's top, where the enemy team was hefting an assortment of scary-looking melee weapons. Yellow panel. Got it.

 

"Okay, guys," He said, trying to locate his team's red-lined counterpart, "We're taking the scaffolding." He pointed to Marco, Gwen, and then "Jesse," the woman holding the yellow key. "Get that yellow panel open and bring the loot up. Everyone else, split up into pairs and head to the center. Take different routes. Soulcaster usually scatters equipment around the battlefield, and in this case, it's probably up there."

 

He strapped the crossbow to his back and grabbed a radio, letting the mob of "soldiers"  fight over the rest of the box's contents. Time to hunt some mooks.

 

Mouldbreaker didn't really trust these people to be effective fighters. Untrained and undisciplined, they'd slow him down more than anything else. His only chance here was to go solo, forestalling equipment-gathering in an attempt to kill as many enemy soldiers as he could before his equally powerful rival showed up.

 

He hopped onto a ladder and pulled himself up to the lowest level of rafters. The bottom of the network, an even level of platforms held together by rope bridges, was the only part that seemed to show any consistency. He noticed a cardboard refrigerator box mounted on an adjacent platform, and took a wild, flying, leap to reach it, counting on his extra strength to get him there.

 

The gravity curved his jump awkwardly, but he managed to land safely. Smiling, he opened the box to find... a banana peel. Mouldbreaker sighed. How was he supposed to fight when Soulcaster refused to give him useful equipment? He glanced back at his yellow panel, which, thankfully, Jesse's team had managed to open. The three soldiers were already grabbing weapons and making their way to the arena's center.

 

Taking the initiative, Mouldbreaker tore apart the box and twisted a length of cardboard into a tight cylinder. A rudimentary forearm shield that might be able to reduce the damage from one of those knives. It would have to do.

 

He hopped up a flight of stairs, and the gravity lessened noticeably. Would he even be able to fight normally by the time he reached the top? He had coveted the high ground because it seemed like the only place to accurately launch projectiles from, but if it messed with his hand-to-hand, he'd probably just leave his soldiers up there and go back down by himself.

 

His radio buzzed. "Uh... Mouldy?" Julia's voice. "A group of blues is coming at us from the rafters, and... we're still unarmed."

 

Mouldbreaker didn't bother to respond. He just looked around, spotting each squad of blue soldiers in turn. The group in question looked to be about five strong, and was equipped with nothing but daggers. They were jogging single file across a piece of thin, metal scaffolding. Perfect.

 

He scrambled halfway up a ladder and leaped again, grabbing a rope on the same level as the soldiers. One of them cried out, and the group started running for a suspended grate, not wanting to engage him on terrain where they were unable to surround him.

 

Too late. He hopped onto the scaffolding, cutting them off. The soldier in front, "Rob," faltered for a moment, then neatly shifted his body weight and charged. Clearly, he knew how to use that knife.

 

The jab came in on Mouldbreaker's left side, the one opposite of his makeshift shield. He was forced to catch it with his forearm, hoping that his added durability would let him sustain the injury. As he did, he swung his other hand around, collapsing the man's skull with a powerful blow. Superstrength was a fun power to have in close engagements like these.

 

He pulled his bloodstained hand out of Rob's head, then ran up and jump-kicked the next soldier in line, shattering her ribcage and propelling her backwards into her comrades like a human cannonball. Two soldiers flew over the railing into the open air, and the remaining one was knocked onto the floor. Mouldbreaker calmly bent down and crushed her larynx, listening to the three thumps of bodies hitting the ground, sixty feet below.

 

Out in the stands, the crowd was going crazy. Mouldbreaker couldn't hear them, but he could see them. They were standing, whooping, holding up signs... well, sparks, maybe fighting in the arena every once in a while could be fun.

---

Alexio Maximus was furious. Mouldbreaker had just torn apart an entire squad of soldiers. He continued in his path, right behind Eva, heading for Mouldbreaker's side just as Squad E approached his other side and Squad A began climbing up and tearing into the rear of Mouldy's army. Seeing his opponent crush skulls had shown Alexio just how much strength he had been given. He snagged Eva's sword and launched himself over her head. 

The gravity pulled him in weird directions, but a few powerful leaps managed to land him right next to Mouldy. "I'm Marc, and I'm pissed," Alexio said, seething as he swung the sword with all his enhanced strength into Mouldbreaker's leg. Swing completed, he jumped away from the depowered Epic before he could get much of a return hit in. Alexio scrambled to the nearest members of Squad C, the item collectors. 

"This is going to be hard, but you need to act like you have super-strength. Mouldy won't know which of us to attack if we all seem as strong as he is. Hit harder than normal and swing stronger," Alexio Maximus commanded. He grabbed one of the radios the squad had collected and used it to communicate with the real Marc. He relayed the same set of instructions about feigning strength to throw off Mouldy. 

Alexio also took a couple of grenades that Squad C had, ignored a proffered chocolate bar, as well as took a rope and tied a couple of daggers and sharpened cardboard to the end of it. He coiled the rope and ran off to assist Squad A. 

Upon reaching the back end of Mouldbreaker's retreating army, Alexio Maximus threw the two grenades into two pairs of red soldiers. The first exploded, sending miscellaneous body parts flying. The second detonated as well, but the explosion never came. In its place, an odor the likes of which Alexio had never smelled before pervaded from the bomb. 

Caught unawares, the two Reds near the stink bomb gagged reflexively and covered their faces. Alexio seized the opportunity and swung his rope, the sharp edges slicing and stabbing the two enemies. Both fell over in pain. Alexio dabbed his fingers in their false blood and smeared it on his face. He shrugged off the blow to his shoulder and leapt up, pummeling his attacker off the scaffolding to his death below. 

Alexio Maximus told Squad A to rub the blood over their faces as well, disguising them further.

---

Mouldbreaker did a quick inventory check. Two knives from the fallen soldiers and a stolen blue jacket. Rob had made a jagged cut in his left forearm, but the bleeding wasn't bad. His added durability had helped immensely. He looked down below, then grimaced. The fight wasn't going well.

 

Large groups of blue soldiers were making their way up the rafters, hunting down pairs of reds that had fallen behind while navigating the labyrinth of stairs and ladders leading up to the center. As he watched, two of his soldiers were efficiently caught and gutted by the blue marauders. Idiots. Why can't they just follow simple orders? He noted that his army was spread crazily out along the rafters, some pairs still stuck on the first level while others climbed on floors even higher than the one he was at.

 

Suddenly, an enemy popped out from beneath the rafter. "Hi. I'm Marc and I'm pissed." The man swung his sword, biting deeply into Mouldbreaker's right leg.

 

Mouldbreaker screamed, falling to the ground. He aimed a dagger thrust at the man's head, but he had already dropped down, using the arena's gravity to evade Mouldbreaker's clumsy counterattack. Mouldbreaker took a deep breath, trying to control the pain, then rolled over to examine the man from above.

 

What the sparks was that? Marc? No. That was the enemy Epic, Alex. Ordinary soldiers wouldn't have the power to pull off a manuever like that.

 

I need real weapons. At the very least a sword like he has. This crossbow isn't going to cut it.

 

Jesse's trio had started climbing later than any of his soldiers, but miraculously, she'd managed to meander through the scaffolding without losing time to dead ends. Good. He'd need those weapons if he was going to turn this battle around. Gritting his teeth, he assessed the damage to his leg. Heavy bleeding, but he still had a full range of motion. He could probably still walk, so long as he didn't keel over from blood loss first.

 

He tore off the sleeves off of his extra jacket to make a loose tourniquet and bandage. No need to worry about infection right now. He'd be out of the arena within fifteen minutes anyway. Hopefully, this would give him enough time to kill his opponent. He started half-jumping, half-limping down to where Jesse's squad was scaling the scaffolding.

 

In the meantime, Alex had grabbed a couple of grenades and started slaughtering reds. He caught up easily to two pairs and dismembered them with frightening efficiency.

 

That makes eight... maybe ten dead from my faction, versus five from his. Not a good ratio either way.

 

Jesse's squad looked relieved to see him. They probably assumed he'd come to help them carry the load of weapons, allowing them to continue on to the relative safety of the higher levels. Unfortunately, he had other plans.

 

"The three of you are coming with me. We're going to engage the enemy Epic's squad directly. You distract the normals while I assassinate Alex. Got it?"

 

He ignored the looks on their faces, which were outrightly mutinous. He had basically just ordered them to commit suicide without getting a single kill, theoretically ruining their chances of getting back in the arena again. He could inform them that obedience was probably going to get them a lot farther than kill/death ratio, as far as being reselected went... or he could just go. He pocketed an extra dagger and grabbed the sword from "Abdul," despite the fact that the man seemed to have grown attached to it. Signaling for the soldiers to follow, he began limping his way down.

 

He met up with a pair of soldiers on the way, and gave them the same instructions. Jesse handed them two of his knives, and they resumed their descent, making their way to a defensible point in the rafters.

 

Below them, Alex was opening a new box. The one Mouldbreaker's army had been standing on, initially. That bothered him. Wouldn't the box opposite of each army be the hardest to get to and therefore, have the best equipment? But surely Soulcaster wouldn't actually...

 

The lid came off.

 

Sparks.

---

Alexio Maximus stood amidst blood-covered warriors with his rope-dagger in his hand. Weapons in his hands and comrades around, this was his domain. But now it was time for the best part: the ultimate prizes.

Alexio handed his rope to another combatant and took the squad to the panel that had been right where Mouldbreaker stood. Squad C caught up to them and used a key to open the panel. Alexio saw a pile of rifles and couple shotguns. He grinned. This was about to be over. As he reached for a .22 rifle, the weapons disappeared, replaced with spears and one blue sword. 

Alexio cursed. Under his breath, he muttered, "Rusting Soulcaster. Entertainment, my chull, this is war." The other members of his army stood around in disappoint, but each grabbed a spear. Alexio Maximus took the blue sword which was obviously meant for him and turned to look at Mouldbreaker. The coward without his powers had limped to an alcove in the web above. 

This was about to get real good. Alexio ordered the two squads to form up around him, the eight remaining soldiers in a double layer square with him at the center. He ignored his other soldiers; they could take care of the red grunts, the more deaths they caused, the higher their stats would be. 

"Move out!" Alexio yelled. His new, larger squad began climbing up to Mouldbreaker. Two of the rear guards threw their spears and drew knives.

---

Mouldbreaker ducked for cover. signalling for the soldiers to follow his lead. It would be pretty anticlimactic to be killed by a random javelin this late in the match. Soulcaster wouldn't like it.

 

Spears were bad enough. An intelligent enemy could use their range to ward off shorter weapons like daggers. That blue sword, though... Mouldbreaker had seen its like before, and it cut through solid steel as if it were rice paper. He couldn't block it directly, which would be a problem. Still, it was better than facing an army equipped with sparking rifles. He was glad Soulcaster had decided not to upset the game balance like that.

 

He risked a peek at the other army. To his surprise, they were actually ascending towards him. That was to his advantage. With both armies up here, Mouldbreaker stood a better chance of getting Alex alone.

 

"Start jogging. I'll follow behind. Just ram yourselves into the enemy army and I'll finish them off."

 

That got some incredulous looks. For once, Mouldbreaker felt compelled to respond.

 

"Okay, guys. Death is painful, but it comes with the gig. I don't know if you noticed, but this is the kind of thing that arena extras actually do. You will be rewarded for it. Trust me."

 

He waved again, and this time, they rose from the alcove they'd been hiding in and nervously began running. Alex's troops, faces smeared with blood, had already climbed up to his level, and were moving along a nearby walkway about two meters wide. As Mouldbreaker's army sped up and charged, one of his five soldiers was picked off by a thrown spear. The metal tip broke off as Mouldbreaker plucked it from the body.

 

The armies met with screaming and the clash of metal. He could see immediately that his hadn't fared too well. Spear tips had driven clean through the backs of the three who had led the charge, and only Abdul hadn't been impaled immediately.

 

Well, now or never, I guess. Mouldbreaker came in from behind his troops and rammed the spear's broken head straight through the neck of a soldier, the momentum of his attack disorienting the rest of them in the packed metal walkway. He pulled out his two daggers and began laying about himself in a series of attacks, focusing on shoving soldiers back to give himself space. Within a few seconds, four blues had been killed. He'd received several cuts through his arms, and a spearman in the back line had managed to stab him through the gut, but Mouldbreaker still felt as if the attack had been worth it.

 

And then a blue sword came from behind the enemy line and sliced his arm off.

 

Mouldbreaker howled and shoved through, knocking down a handful of soldiers and grabbing onto Alex's jacket with his good arm. A second, clumsier slice bit into his hip as Mouldbreaker tackled him off the edge.

 

Both fighters grappled in mid-air, trying to use the other to break the fall. In the end, they landed together. Alex immediately rolled on top of him and grabbed his dagger. Swords would be useless at this range.

 

Mouldbreaker yelled and smeared the stump of his left arm over Alex's eyes, blinding him, then rolled back on top and began punching him. Back and forth they went, neither managing to land a killing blow, until the pain became too much and Mouldbreaker collapsed, barely able to move.

 

Groaning, Alex planted the dagger in his back and shakily rose to his feet, waiting for Mouldbreaker to die of blood loss.

 

"Sic semper tyrannis," he spat. It was his catch phrase whenever he managed to slay an Epic in the Arena.

 

He shot Mouldbreaker a bloody smirk, and at that moment, a man dropped from the rafters and drove a spear through his heart.

 

Barely lucid, Mouldbreaker identified the assailant. Abdul. What the sparks? How did he manage to-

 

He shivered, too weak to think, and let the darkness take him.

Edited August 19, 2015 by Mckeedee123

[Curious Anamaximder]

Countdown was the coolest Epic in Salem. He strode down the hall, hands in his jeans whistling. Countdown wore jeans and a sweater with no visible weapons on him. His regular outfit. Countdown exited the government residence building, where he lived and instead turned his car parked on the curb. Countdown hopped in, smiling at the leather seats and the twin machine guns in the passenger seat. Just as he was about to start the engine, and walked up and tapped on the window.

Countdown opened the window, snarling. " What is it!" Countdown barked. " Daily update, sir," the vanilla said. " In the newest arena fight, Alexio is battling Mouldbreaker. A new Epic, Heartsleeve has arrived. And for my personal news-" He didn't get to finish before Countdown blew his head off with a energy blast. He revved his car's engine, and the Jaguar roared down the road.

Countdown was the coolest Epic in Salem.

[Mckeedee123]

"Can you play that again, sir? I didn't catch why it ended like that."

 

Soulcaster nodded, and the scene rewound. Mouldbreaker watched it all from the third person. Wounds closed together and blood flowed back into the corpses. After a few seconds of rolling around, the two fighters were thrown into the rafters and Alex's sword sliced Mouldbreaker's hand back onto his body.

 

Mouldbreaker glanced away from the screen, at Soulcaster. The two of them were standing in a massive black room, illuminated by an astral projector screen set into the wall.

 

Soulcaster was grinning. "It's ironic that you were saved by an extra, don't you think? You were so dismissive of them during the match."

 

The video snapped back into real time, and Mouldbreaker fixated on Abdul. The Arab man bravely charged forward, and was just about to be stabbed when Mouldbreaker arrived and began shoving through the blue army, killing all but three of them. After Alex was tackled off the edge, Abdul surprised and killed two of the blues that had been knocked over, then got in a brutal fistfight with the third. He took heavy damage putting a dagger in the man's neck, but finished in time to grab a spear and leap off the edge, impaling his opponent and winning the match for his team.

 

"The fight will be awarded to you, and I'm glad to say you've moved up in the rankings. You deserve a boon. Your Dreamstate is a practice dojo, is it not? How do you wish to improve it?"

 

Mouldbreaker gulped. "Actually, sir, I was meaning to talk to you about the attack. Remember? The one I investigated at the bar during midday break? We still need to deal with the situation. I don't think that..." Soulcaster narrowed his eyes, and he faltered. "Well, Truthcharm attacked the guy without asking my permission, and all the stories I'm getting from the troopers are conflicting, so there's something suspicious going on. I don't think Truthcharm was actually in a situation where he was authorized to use lethal force like he says he was."

 

Soulcaster sighed, and Mouldbreaker could sense an acute displeasure from him. "You know, I don't really care."

 

"Uh... well sir, I think it's pretty important. If we just let Epics run wild, most of our contestants will end up dead in turf wars. That's bad, don't you think"

 

Soulcaster just pointed at the screen. "Look at him."

 

Abdul. The footage had rewound back to the crucial moment where he'd leaped off the rafter.

 

"He's so... passionate. Engaged. It's as if his life depends on skewering this man. He needs it. The emotions are... beautiful. Nothing can compare"

 

He turned back to face Mouldbreaker. "The Arena is what's important. All of these... emotions are important. The outside world is not."

 

"So..."

 

"Deal with it yourself. I don't want you to waste my time with this nonsense anymore. Just take Showstopper and beat the crem out of him... or kill him."

 

Mouldbreaker smiled broadly. Was Soulcaster saying what Mouldbreaker thought he was saying?

 

"Will do, sir. From now on, I'll stop asking permission before taking people out."

 

"Thank you."

[Mailliw73]

Alex dropped out of the arena quicker than normal. "Sic semper tyrannis," he repeated with a grin. One more tyrant had failed to beat a regular human in the arena. Alex had taken it on as his personal goal to prove that Epics were not better than humans. Nothing made them innately better, only that damned red star that chose them for its own inexplicable reasons. Mouldbreaker had fallen to Alexio Maximus, Gladiator of Humans. Just as Starcross, Gunner, Flyboy, and so many others had. The top ranked human in the arena, below only the powerful Epics, and only then because Soulcaster wouldn't allow them to be embarrassed like that.

"I'm sorry, sir, maybe next time," Rob's voice called as he walked past Alex's prep room.

Alex stopped him outside his door. "What do you mean? We won, soldier!"

"No, actually. You died seconds before ol' Mouldy did, so the big guy ruled it in his favor."

"What?!" Alex roared. How had that storming fool beat him? He had seen the life fading from Mouldbreaker's body. He had killed him with his own hands. He had won. "I won! We won!"

Rob backed up a step from Alex's fury. "Just come here, they're showing the replay on all the screens."

Alex followed his squad leader into the large screening room where people could see the highlights of the most recent and popular fights. He watched as he killed Mouldbreaker, but as the video slowed down in the final seconds, Alex noticed a brown-skinned man in red leap off a ledge, driving a spear into Alex's back, killing him just before Mouldbreaker faded. "No." Alex couldn't believe it. He watched it over and over. He should've led his team to victory. He should've beat the tyrant. He should've claimed the victory. But he had failed.

"Sorry, man. You'll be fine, Soulcaster only dropped you down two places and didn't even penalize your Dreamstate. He said it was a good fight," Rob consoled.

Soulcaster hadn't penalized him much, but the Calamity-cursed layabout only cared for his entertainment. Alex cared for humanity. For equality. He fought for the humans, for those who were simultaneously lucky and unlucky not to have been bestowed with corrupt powers, for those who lived their lives in fear because of madmen. The fury raged indeed Alex's chest. Never again. He would never fail to an Epic again unless it killed him. For real, not the fake deaths of the arena.

Rob broke the silence. "Alex, you all right? At least it wasn't an Epic who killed you. It was just Abdul, and he's a decent enough fellow. I've fought with him before."

Alex paused. He had lost. But not to an Epic. It hadn't been a tyrannical madman who had killed him. It had been a human, just like him. Rob was right. Alex had been so focused on the tyranny, that he had been caught up in evil ideas himself. Abdul was what he was fighting for and what he fought against. The man had taken a death leap in order to win, in order to live. He had killed Alexio Maximus, not for glory, but to survive. Alex fought to show that humans could conquer evil and fought so men and women, someday, wouldn't have to. The real problem was Soulcaster. Instead of awarding a victory to the man who deserved it, Abdul, he showered a filthy tyrant with praise for sacrificing men and women in his place.

Damnation Soulcaster. Damnation Mouldbreaker. Damnation every Epic to the deepest parts of hell. Damnation them for placing themselves above the rest instead of lifting the human race higher. And above all, damnation Calamity. Abdul deserved that win and in his victory, proved what Alex had been proving as long as he had fought in the arena: humans were not lesser than Epics. It just took a hellacious set of balls to prove it.

Edited August 21, 2015 by Mailliw73

[Curious Anamaximder]

Nighhunter:

 

" C'mon, " Nighthunter said. " We are leaving."

 

 

"What!" Coppercloud said. " We can't be leaving. Inhuman isn't dead."

 

 

"We are." Nighthunter said. "No discussion."

 

 

The last few days had been hard for the crew. Celsius refused to communicate and Rewind and Anaconda had joined the Salem City Guard. There would be no taking down Inhuman now. They had no assets, no proper equipment, and not enough Epics.

 

 

Maverick snarled. " I'm not leaving. Inhuman must be killed."

 

 

Nighthunter spun on Maverick, grabbing him and pushing the Epic into a wall. " You are leaving. Do you want to fight Inhuman? You would die."

 

 

Maverick said nothing and continued packing boxes to be loaded into the helicopter. Coppercloud smirked. What a sad crew we have become, Nighthunter thought. Just a pile of crem.

Nighthunter loaded guns into a case and shut it, throwing it into the helicopter.

 

 

" Let's move." Nighthunter said. And as the helicopter lifted them up, bearing them back to their base, Nighthunter felt nothing but regret.

 

 

I will get you someday, Inhuman. I will be back.

 

Inhuman:

" This is my Dreamstate?" Inhuman questioned, looking around.

 

 

The room he was standing in was a New York City penthouse, with huge windows, massive TV's and a fully stocked kitchen. The view showed Manhatten, his old home, before Regalia took over. 

 

 

" Y-Yes sir," The vanilla standing on his left said. " Your Dreamstate is upgraded if you win arena matches. More wins, better Dreamstate."

 

 

Inhuman walked around the room feeling the hard marble of the floor,  and soft leather of the couches. He was impressed. He had never lived in such a luxurious place. He looked at the TV screens. 60 inches, LCD plasma. Perfect for watching Star Trek and Avengers movies.

 

 

" Can I change my Dreamstate?" Inhuman asked the vanilla.

 

 

"After you win 50 matches, sir, you can change your Dreamstate to anything you want." The vanilla said.

 

 

Wow, Inhuman thought.

 

 

" Tell Soulcaster I said thanks." Inhuman told the vanilla.

 

 

" Will do, sir." 

[18th Shard]

                                                                       

Paradox held the vanilla still, motionless, thinking on what he'd been told. Salem, an arena for Epics to prove themselves masters of the Epic Race. He removed his hand from the vanilla, who resumed breathing, pulse starting once more. "Where is Salem?" 

"That way," the vanilla whispered, pointing to the north west, "but it is days away."

Paradox smirked. Days to travel nowhere? Everything is but a step away. Paradox stepped, distance contracting to an infinitely small point. He stopped on the outskirts of a town, reading the signs. Salt Lake. No, Salem was in Oregon, was it not? Paradox stepped again. Salem, read the once green sign, 20 mi. Paradox stepped again, moving until he was standing on the city limits. A patrolman stepped up to him, a confused look on his face. Paradox stopped him, the man freezing, not moving in the least. His partner pulled out a gun, arm quivering as he pointed it at Paradox. The Epic laughed, then started, moving a few feet closer suddenly. The unfrozen police fired in fright, the bullet speeding toward Paradox. And then it slowed down. And slowed some more. And more and more and more and more and more, slowing until it hovered, moving less than a nanometer at a time, but inching its way to Paradox. It would hit him, he knew, when time ended. When eternity was now and then and always the same. But not now. Smiling, he lifted the still-frozen human into the bullet's path. He frowned. No, this was not the way to do it. He tapped the man to the right, then moved out of the way of the bullet, releasing the man once more. The bullet suddenly moved, speeding at its original velocity, grazing the patrolman's face, leaving a trickle of blood under his left eye. "Wear that scar with pride, my young friend," Paradox intoned reverently, "for you have survived an encounter with eternity itself. Tell me something. If I ask of you a something that cannot be, and yet is, how can it be a Paradox? For to be a Paradox means to defy logic with logic, reality with reality. Thus it cannot be, but is. Thus am I." Paradox raised his hands dramatically, then stepped farther away. Salem. Can any Epic compete with reality itself, warped beyond recognition? How can they move if they do it not immediately? How can they live, when their ends are so soon? In the eyes of Infinity, all values are valueless, all points pointless, and all meanings meaningless. How can they rule Timeless, Boundless, the Ending of Ends, Endless?

Edited September 1, 2015 by 18th Shard

[TheRamblingInsomniac]

Vesania approached Salem, daydreaming as she walked. She remembered a time, before Oregon's destruction began, and a half forgotten thought that had come with it drifted into her mind, "Here I am looking at blackness, speckled blackness. Looking up at it, I can still conceive questions, which I can't answer: Why are we here, why not someplace else entirely?, Is this where billions of years of evolution has lead us?, and still there are more that baffle me. There’s a obviously a finiteness to life, but what surrounds us seems almost.. infinite. Even worse, the seeming infinity that surrounds us is chaotic, random even.”

Random, Vesania never enjoyed that word, it always seemed to her to be nondescript, and to be random seemed impossible to her. “Is anything ever truly random, or do we lack the logic to derive the factors that lead to it?” This was always Vesania’s opinion, sometimes she was even quoted by her friends for saying that phrase.

“Maybe, everything I can see is teeming with life, that’s quite a horrendous thought. Though, even more terrifying, what if everything I see is devoid of life?”

Vesania hated the thought of being alone. Her brother, Luke, and herself were always together when she was younger. Now, he was with always her as well, though she questioned his tangible or even existential state.

Vesania kept walking, and her daydream continued, “What if I am alone, what if I destroy all the other life in the house? Nah, Dad’s home, and besides the toilet seat’s got some serious germs on it anyway.”, Vesania thought just before she wiped the food specks off the inside of the black microwave, and she left the existential debate they initiated behind to go talk to her dad. Though, her daydream stopped in its tracks, as did her walk, both abruptly ended with a faint grin and earnest curiosity about the city of Salem which sprawled out before her, the fruit of her travel. Edited May 20, 2016 by TheRamblingInsomniac

[Quiver]

A brisk, even stroll through Salem's streets. It was an important part of Sentry's routine on a normal day. It helped to remind people that she was more than just a pretty face on a poster.

"There," she said, pointing. "There, there and there."

An attendant went in each direction she gestured, ready to slap more posters up. Sentry took a slow, deep breath.

When people thought of Salem, they thought of Soulcaster. They thought about the Arena, and the promises of prizes and the blood sports.

'For good reason,' Sentry admitted. The arena was to Salem was bread and circuses had been to Rome.

And it had use as a distraction. Epics cared about the Arena. They were less inclined to look at the minor Epics who were involved in little things like 'government'.

Sentry had realised a certain fact over the years. The more powerful an Epic was, the less they cared about the one's around them.

A crass way to put it. She flexed a hand, ignoring the looks it got from a handful of nearby Vanilla's.

Soulcaster had unbelievable power. High unimaginable. He was, without a doubt, one of the most powerful epics in the Fractured States. The same could be said for Steelheart in Newcago, or Regalia in Babilar, or any of the stream of epics who flocked to fight and bleed and hurt in the arena.

The most powerful men and women in the world owned scant miles of land between them.

A powerful epic -one who could do anything, recover from any wound...invariably, they became lazy. Hedonistic. Focused on themselves.

A minor epic on the other hand...?

Sentry allowed a satisfied smile to cross her lips. As she awaited her men's return, she reached out with her power...and saw the city laid bare.

'Seeing out of things'. Not the flashiest of powers. Not one that would be good for an arena.

So far as Sentry was concerned, it was the greatest power she could have asked for.

Edited September 12, 2015 by Quiver

[RippleGylf]

Having found accommodations, Heartsleeve could finally get back to her mission. Unfortunately, she was having a bit of trouble finding any Epics interested in anything but the Arena. That was, after all, the main attraction of Salem. Heartsleeve herself disliked the Arena, and not simply because she didn't have the right powers for it. It was more of a subtle jealousy. The Arena inflated emotions on a scale she would never be able to match.

 

Something irritated her. Surely there must be some epic who could use her talents. As much as she loved lording over people, it was easier to escape backfire when one wasn't on the front lines. She felt as if she was missing something huge. Suddenly, a poster flew off of a wall and landed at her feet. Heartsleeve looked at the poster...

 

and smiled.

Edited November 16, 2015 by RippleGylf

[Quiver]

Sentry's ability wasn't difficult to explain. If something had a picture of her, she could see through it.

 

The strange thing wasn't that she saw through the pictures though; it was the fact that they made sense to her. After all, one would think that, with dozens of different viewpoints clamoring for her attention would be disorienting. She recalled a quip that an Epic had once made, asking if the power made her sea-sick. 

 

It didn't. A part of her mind -the part that had once been Sophie Jones, wannabe Internet producer- knew that the fact that Sentry could process all the things she saw didn't really make any sense. But then, Epic powers didn't always need to make sense. How did Soulcasters powers work, for instance?

 

In the end, they worked because they did.

 

The reason that was important was because -even while she looked at the stream of people entering Salem's gates beneath a billboard, as she watched her men slap posters up and down the alleyways, as she watched the Vanilla's go about their mundane, boring lives...

Amongst all that, Sentry still saw a woman that she didn't recognize pick up one of her sheets and smirk.

 

Any one of those things would be infuriating in it's own right. In tandem, they were irritating... and somewhat interesting.

 

Sentry Looked again. A dozen different angles zeroed in on the woman holding her poster -One of the Russian ones, she realized with a cringe- and in where she was.

 

She tapped her foot, waiting a few moments until her men returned. When they did, she divied up the supplies.

"You three, continue putting these up," she directed. "You two, follow me."

 

She started walking, and the two she had indicated followed without question, a roll of papers under each arm, and rifles slung over their shoulders.

 

Whether the woman who was smirking at her pictures knew it, she was breaking a very important Rule of Salem. It might not have been immortalized anywhere, or even really talked about, but everyone -especially Vanilla's- knew that you did not touch Sentry's things. This woman had not only picked up the sheet, she was -smirking- at it.

 

Unless she was a Very High Epic, she was going to need to be taught what the Rules were.

[Verdaka]

Fabricator walked into town twirling his pen and thinking of a plan for a car. He teleported to different areas of the world gathering the supplies and built the car. He could teleport but driving a sleek car into town would make a better impression. He adjusted his navy suit, took off his satchel bad and got into the car. He pulled out his old CD case and chose the one with the scribbled writing Oldies. He put it in to the player and "Carry On Wayward Son" blared out of the speakers. 

 

He drove into Salem and looked around at the Vanillas walking the street. "Sparks" he thought, "i left my gun in Missouri.

 

He Popped into the small town and grabbed the sleek gun. He could redesign one but he didn't want to, the craftsmanship on the p226 was perfect. A Vanilla walked in the door as he was grabbing the gun. The man dropped his suitcase and held his hands up. 

"Don't Shoot!"

"Now why would i do that?" Fabricator built a plaque out of the wood of the table that said "I Survived Fabricator". He handed it to the man and teleported back to his car.

 

Edited September 17, 2015 by Verdaka

[Voidus]

A black-silver blur streaked across a white void, the rapid sound of tiny feet hitting the ground could be dimly recognized.

Meliability had asked Soulcaster to let her go to her special place instead of sticking around to watch the afternoon matches, she'd lost the game with that weird lady from before and losing always put her in a bad mood.

A sudden flash of silver appeared to one side as a sword swung towards her neck.

Watching the sword sliding towards her, Meliability waited to the last minute, watching the inching towards her before finally twisting out of the way. A black figure lost its balance slightly as the sword met no resistance. Meliability watched the figure moving as she completed her flip. To her eyes he seemed to move incredibly slowly though he was supposed to be faster than normal people were.

How can they stand to be that slow all the time? Meliability thought as she spun some more, scythe catching briefly in the neck of the figure before quickly tearing through. How do they get anything done?

Four more figures approached, these ones moving in concert to try to attack a blindspot.

Skidding to a halt she slid along the floor, her scythe caught the legs of one figure in passing before she jumped into the air between the other three, their faces still turning, ever so slowly, to follow her motion.

One of her legs flew out to catch one in the head, her weapon swiftly decapitating the other two as she fell through the air, spinning slightly from the force of her swing.

I should bring something with me when I do this next time. She thought, still waiting to hit the ground again. It takes sooooo long to fall anywhere, maybe I should bring one of those books mamma is trying to get me to read next time? But they're so boring, no one ever plays any fun games in them. What's the point of playing chasey if you don't have anything to cut through their neck with when you catch them?

Her stream of thought continued on for some time, though to anyone else looking it would span barely a second before her feet hit the floor, followed soon after by two heads and two bodies as the figures dropped around her.

She'd tried to get the special place to make friends who were as fast as she was but it hadn't made it much harder for her, they could at least watch her when she played with them unlike these one (Constructs she thought she'd heard Soulcaster call them but she just called them her friends) but even when their faces could watch her movement they always fell pretty quickly once she started fighting them, they'd hold their weapons wrong or not put their feet in the right place and she'd quickly beaten through their defense to 'tag' them, heads inevitably rolling on the floor a few scant seconds after she'd started playing.

Maybe I should get some friends like that weird lady from today, that might be a bit more fun. She thought as she dodged through a storm of bullets sent her way by some other friends. She touched one of the bullets, shaping the metal into a thin bracelet around her hand for a moment before deciding she wanted a tiara more. She could easily just get the special place to make her one but she always liked finding something to make the bullets into when they shot at her, otherwise they all just flew into space and she never saw them again, that would be a waste.

A short time later, having dispatched the gunmen and given one of them the tiara she' made, Mel sat down on the pristine white ground. This wasn't much fun. She thought that if she'd practiced in here it would help her have more fun games in the Arena but it just wasn't working, she'd still lost the game today.

Maybe I should go find some friends to play with in town. She thought, leaving her special place and opening her eyes. I'm sure I can find someone who'll be fun to play with.

[Blackhoof]

Part 1 of 2

 

 

Blackhoof takes grey

OLIVIA CIPHER COMMENTARY IN THE HOUSE

Venture takes red

 

Lady Deathskull opened her eyes.

 

After relaxing in her hotel room for a time, she had decided to return to the arena- the next round of fights had begun. She had loved that team battle in the dome- such excitement! Such a climactic ending! Although it hadn't felt right that any Epic should be defeated by any mortal, even if he had technically won the fight. After that fight, it had been her turn once more. Two winners from the morning were to be pitted against one another- and apparently she would fight someone called Inhuman.

 

Soulcaster had taken his place in his personal box, surrounded by guards and fellow Epics, including the evil-looking woman who had negated Deathskull’s power earlier. An announcer had then introduced the combatants, and with a wave of his hand Soulcaster had plunged them all into the next world of dreams.

 

And so Lady Deathskull found herself, after opening her eyes, in a barren plain.

 

Transferring into the Dreamstate was tough. It kind of hurt, but it also didn't. It was like sliding into Jello mixed with steel. Inhuman walked down the corridor, escorted by 2 Epics, to his next battle in the Dreamstate. Inhuman felt the energy pumping through him and he cracked his knuckles.

 

" The odds are against you winning," the guard on Inhuman's left said. " Deathskull is powerful. "

 

Tell me something I don't know, Inhuman thought. It was time to fight.

 

There was nothing but dirt in all directions. Around her, she could see a faint, ghostly outline of bleachers filled with people, and she could hear the voice of the commentators. A fair distance away, stood her opponent. Bits of random junk lay scattered in a circle around her, and she could sense that they were all metal. She smiled. “A metal manipulator like me facing a close-combat opponent across an empty field, with plenty of metal? This fight will be easy.”

 

“Welcome to Deathskull versus Inhuman!” Olivia called out. “This setting is a plain field and that looks like metal everywhere. I think. At least someone in this arena is!” Pause for dramatic effect and then the crowd laughed at her jab at the contestants. “Oh, no, not plain any more.”

 

She thought too soon, however, as soon the field began to change. Little green shoots began poking up between the dirt, quickly blossoming into plants of all shapes and sizes. Deathskull looked around, bewildered, as twigs sprouted and turned into trees in mere moments. She felt something moving beneath her feet, and looked down to see leaves and mulch forcing their way out of the ground, piling muck around her feet as if she had been standing in under-brush. She shook her feet clean in disgust. The sky darkened, as a thick canopy of tropical trees formed, leaves and branches intermingling to block out the sun nearly

completely.

 

“In the jungle! The mighty jungle! The Epics sleep- well, beat each other up- tonight!” She belted, extremely off pitch on purpose. “It looks like Soulcaster’s not letting us have a clean playing field. Well, let’s zoom in on the action over near Inhuman.” She squinted and immediately felt her vision clear. Obviously, Soulcaster was giving the spectators a better view.

 

In seconds the once-empty field had become a thick, muggy, vine-choked jungle.She could barely see six feet in either direction. She could certinly not see Inhuman anymore. With a sigh, she realised that this would be a harder fight than she had anticipated.

 

Inhuman was surprised by the jungle. He had been dreading the open ground, but the jungle gave him the advantage. He looked down at his armor. Leather and Kevlar, no metal in sight. Instead of blades, he had 2 carbon fiber batons. Soft leather boots covered his feet and a bow and quiver were slung over his back. The arrows were obsidian tipped, with deadly poison coating them.

 

“Look at that weaponry. No metal at all for Inhuman. Old fashion long range weapons- just like both of you guys. Look at that fashion sense. It’s dreadful. Oh, now Inhuman’s on the run.”

 

Inhuman picked a direction and started running, jumping over roots and bushes. After about a minute, he saw her. Deathskull was standing her armor, her skull mask looking super grotesque. Quickly Inhuman analyzed her. She could shape her armor into blades and clubs. Any metal was her's to command. But he had advanced strength and healing. The battle would be a even match. Almost on command, he started adapting. Bone shot under his skin forming a second armor. Inhuman's knuckle bones thickened, and his lungs changed to adapt to the cloying jungle air.

 

Now he was shapeshifting or something. “Okay, so now you’re changing shapes. Hey, Bone’s not the only one here who can change her bone structure. Huh. Didn’t realize that.”

 

He started sprinting, balling up his fist. Deathskull didn't see him until his fist crashed into the side of her helmet.

 

“Going through the jungle, Inhuman’s getting the jump on Deathskull. YOU KNOW YOU GUYS MIGHT AVOID GETTING JUMPED ON IF YOU ACTUALLY LISTENED TO ME.” She cackled as Deathskull completely ignored the warning and Inhuman was just about to… yes, just about to hit her.

 

She looked around, trying to spot Inhuman. She raked her brain to remember his powers- strength, and…. stealth? No…. Strength and…. shape-shifting? Something like that. He could change his body somehow, that was for sure.

 

Deathskull was woken out of her musings when she heard something behind her. Turning, she had barely registered the sound when something hard and strong slammed into her helmet, knocking her off her feet. She cried out and used her power to fly away from the ground before hitting it. Her helmet had been dented by the attack, and was digging into the side of her head painfully. With a thought, she repaired the damage. Looking down, Inhuman was nowhere to be seen. “Great, another coward who hides from me….”

 

“Hey, making fun of your opponent is my job!” Olivia chuckled. “In case you missed it, Deathskull said ‘Great, another coward who hides from me…’ He’s not hiding, he’s winning.”

 

She tried to fly higher, above the tree line, but the thick layers of branches and vines proved too hard to maneuver through. It appeared as though flying would not be much of an option.

 

“Flying? You’re going to crash into the roof!” She noticed as Soulcaster was switching up the arena just as she was trying, though she doubted anyone else would notice.

 

She rolled her eyes and ignored the commentator. Useless cretin.

Settling closer to the ground, she levitated a few feet from the underbrush and scanned the trees. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…..” Deathskull smiled, her skull-helmet matching her in its horror. Suddenly, she formed her gauntlets into two sets of knives, and threw them all around her into the jungle. A dozen sharp knives shot away from her at high speed, impaling trees and cutting apart underbrush. When they had settled, she pulled them back, and threw them again. “Let’s see how you like this!” She hissed.

 

“Ooh! Pointy things! I like pointy things!” Olivia smirked as she watched Inhuman get impaled. “Ouch! That looks like it’ll hurt.”

 

Inhuman groaned, holding his side, and pulled the dagger out of his side. The wound started to close, blood clotting. Inhuman looked at his hand. All of the knuckles were broken, but they were healing. Deathskull's metal was hard. Inhuman tried to think back upon the words of his mentor, an Epic named Heatshift. Heatshift had taught him to fight quickly and ruthlessly. Inhuman had listened to Heatshift's advice, before he killed him.

 

“But, some kind of healing ability? Hm. Good thing you had one or it would be GAME OVER.”  

 

Inhuman ear's adapted to the noisy jungle, allowing him to sift through sounds. He could hear Deathskull breathing. " It's time to strike," Inhuman whispered. It was his catchphrase in the arena. Inhuman started running, pulling out his baton's. Deathskull twisted and saw him, then raised her forearms in a X. His batons shattered. Inhuman cursed, throwing himself to the side, as Deathskull's fist shattered his ribs. The metal manipulator turned, her skull face grinning, and Inhuman knew he was in trouble.

 

“As opposed to not being the time to strike?” Olivia quipped, her usual response to Inhuman’s catchphrase. “Or perhaps the time to strike being tomorrow?”  

 

Lady Deathskull gasped as she heard movement behind her, twisting just in time to see Inhuman leaping towards her, black batons arcing downwards. Without thinking she raised her arms in an X shape, and reinforced them as much as she could in the split seconds before the attack made contact. With a splitting crack, the batons shattered, and she punched the Epic in the side as he leapt away.

“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt.”

[Curious Anamaximder]

Inhuman vs. Deathskull, Part ll: 

 

With adrenaline rushing through her veins, she did not feel the pain or notice the mangled, dented state of her greaves until she had already turned to continue the attack. But suddenly she did. Deathskull gasped in pain as she looked down, and saw the damage that the batons had done to her arms. At least one was broken, she thought, and it caused agonizing jolts of pain whenever she tried to move it. With a thought, metal coalesced tightly around it, hurting like Calamity but preventing it from moving or damaging itself further. Another thought repaired the damage done to her armour.

 

“But it doesn’t seem like Deathskull cares.”

 

“Oh, I care”, she muttered testily. With a ferocious glare, she stared into Inhuman’s vaguely concerned eyes, and she roared. Her helmet detached, moving around her head as it turned into a ball of solid steel and shot towards the other Epic. Inhuman cried out and dodged, the ball smashing through the tree behind him. Teeth bared, she brought it back, coming straight for him from behind.

 

“Catch, Inhuman! Catch!”

 

The ball broke Inhuman's spine. Inhuman screamed in pain, and fell. The ball had been lodged into his back, probably damaging his internal organs, and Inhuman knew he was going to die. No, Inhuman thought through waves of pain, I will win. The metal started to pull itself out of his back, destroying flesh and bone. Inhuman put all of his healing power into repairing a bit of his spine, all he needed was one arm.

 

The metal ball shot towards Deathskull, gaining speed. Inhuman pulled out a dagger and threw. The dagger hit Deathskull first. Unfortunately, It hit her in the forehead. Fortunately, it broke the skin. Inhuman yelled in triumph, fell back blacked out.

 

Deathskull gritted her teeth from the pain of her arm, but smiled as her metal cannonball smashed into Inhuman, knocking him to the ground and burying deep into his back. Yes!

Inhuman barely moved as she ripped the ball out of his back and brought it back towards her head, planning to turn it back into her helmet. Distracted, she didn’t see Inhuman let out a final cry and throw an obsidian dagger at her. She flinched back as it struck her forehead, leaving a shallow cut.

 

She hissed in pain and glared at Inhuman, but it looked like he was already dead.

 

In her moment of distraction however, she had forgotten the ball. Too late, she remembered, as the mass of steel smashed into her face, not reforming or slowing without her ordering it to. She didn’t even have time to scream as her head exploded, bits of bone and grey matter flying everywhere.

There was a flash of pain, and Lady Deathskull opened her eyes.

 

[the winter system]

 

Olivia watched the last seconds of the fight unfold. She had a seventh sense for this kind of thing. Yes, a seventh. Because that was how cool she was. (Her sixth sense was being able to tell awesomeness potential.)

 

Either way, she knew when to shut up. The crowd drew in. They saw the ball crashing and the broken spine. That's got to hurt. Olivia smiled. She was so lucky she'd escaped getting powers and stuck in the arena. It sounded terribly painful.

 

Where was Micro, her co, anyway? She'd heard he'd done something. Wasn't sure what. He'd disappeared. Maybe annoyed Soulcaster. 

 

Don't let your mind wander. Focus on the fight. She reminded herself. 

 

"Boom!" Olivia shouted. "And that's a wrap! Now, who won this? You can't tell. As they both got knocked out/dead. Not sure which. Note to contestants- stop sleeping on the job." Laughter. Inhuman started glowing and a crown appeared on his head. "There. Inhuman is the winner this time! Congratulations to Inhuman. I've been Olivia Cipher, your commentator, and this has been Inhuman versus Lady Deathskull. Come back next time to see what happens in Salem!"

[MrMistborn]

Morpheus wandered along the road to Salem, chuckling to himself. A few travellers saw him and warily moved out of his way. It seemed almost too obvious that he was an epic. He was tall and lanky, wearing a black overcoat, with carefully pressed pants and a formal-looking shirt. Buzz-cut brown hair topped his head, and the sun shone off his olive-coloured skin as he walked. He wore dark, round glasses, yet peeking over the top were odd, purple, kaleidoscopic eyes

 

He looked up at the sky and saw the sun beginning it's slow fall into darkness. Morpheus grinned

"Come nightfall, Salem, I shall see you all shaking in terror"

Edited October 28, 2015 by MrMistborn

[Mckeedee123]

 

"Alright! And now for our final match of the day. Let's give an enthusiastic round of pity applause to one of our newer contestants, Pyretic!" Olivia pronounced the name with the same syllable emphasis as "heretic."

 

Pyretic blinked. Pity applause? Surely he hadn't gotten to that point yet. He'd only burnt himself alive for the past three fights!

 

The arena patrons were clapping anyway. Well, whatever. He'd take what he could get. He walked out from underneath the bleachers to the platform where the contestants were introduced.

 

"Pyretic, before he got out here onto the field, was planning to fight Slippy today. I was pretty pumped up. I mean, sure, it's easy to appreciate the skill of those arena veterans, but it's just as fun to watch these low-tiered losers go at it like a bunch of female platypuses fighting over the last incubator on earth.

 

"Unfortunately, Slippy is, well, he's dead. He wandered out of town for some reason and got killed by some sort of weird flesh manipulator. The corpse was pretty cool to look at, believe me. But, um... anyway, the point is that he's not participating.

 

"Now, we could just give Pyretic here a bye, but I came up with another idea. Soulcaster has agreed to give Pyretic a treat. He will be fighting a mystery opponent. How do you feel about that, buddy?" Cipher handed Pyretic the microphone as he reached the top of the platform.

 

"I, um... good."

 

"Good, good. Now take this blindfold. It's a sparking mystery, after all." She handed him a square of cloth, which, hesitantly, he wrapped around his head. The last thing he saw was Olivia Cipher grinning at him evilly, which was sort of off-putting. They wouldn't just flat-out murder him, would they? Gah! I just don't know enough about this sparking city!

 

"Now, let's meet the competition" There was a pause, then the crowd exploded with laughter. "What do you think, folks? Can she beat him?" The laughter turned into wild cheering. "Let's give this newbie a good hazing, Salem style! We're a go in a-one, and a-two, and-"

 

Before, Pyretic could object, everything dissolved into nothingness.

____________________________________________

 

Everything was black. Well, everything had been black before, because he'd been blindfolded, but now everything was really black. Blacker than printer ink buried in black dirt in the blackest section of Carlsbad Caverns. In a black hole. Pyretic was in limbo, the place people went while Soulcaster configured everybody into the reality.

 

He'd obviously gotten himself into something bad. The audience seemed to have been half-expecting whatever it was he was going to be fighting. It was a joke of some sort. What did that mean for him? Pyretic just didn't know. He'd only been in Salem for two weeks. He still didn't understand the lingo. Or the ranking system. Or anything. He just fought in the arena and tried to get lucky.

 

It hadn't worked out so far.

 

Being an Epic sucked. It was so... conspicuous. People saw it. It made you different. Pyretic had been pretty good at hiding, but then he'd snapped into consciousness a month ago with his family, house, and pretty much his entire village on fire. He wasn't completely sure how that happened, but he suspected that he'd had something to do with it. Rending and whatnot. It was hard to care. Mostly, he just wondered how he'd remained unburnt throughout the whole thing. That was hard now.

 

Pyretic pretty much had two powers. One was shooting fire from his hands. It wasn't fire, exactly, but some sort of fluid that ignited upon contact with air which he summoned a few inches away from his palms. It was kind of cool. The other one was that he could punch, or kick, or headbutt, or whatever, people with fire. It was pretty much exactly like in one of those sidescrolling fighting games. So yeah. The real problem was that he often set himself alight while using power number one. Sure, he could control the volume of fluid he shot out, but it was like a hose. You know? Like, it's basically just flowing super slowly, and then you turn the nozzle like, one degree, and suddenly it just starts gushing out really fast, and once the fluid starts gushing out like that, a lot of it just went crazy and some shot back at him. Which really, really, sucked. For some reason, Pyretic was able to heal from his burns faster than normal, so, like, in two days, maybe, and he supposed that counted as a third power, but it was just way too slow to help him in the arena. He was still squirming on the ground when his opponent came to finish him off. 

 

A massive timer appeared in front of him, showing five seconds. Soulcaster was done putting everyone into their perspectives. 'Bout time. The arena fell into place around him.

 

It was... pretty cool, really. A massive, circular, metal platform set in the center of a volcano. A volcano. It had lava and everything! Soulcaster's powers were kind of awesome sometimes.

 

Out in the distance, maybe 200 meters off, on the opposite edge of the platform, Pyretic could make out a figure. That'd be his opponent, whatever it was. It was running towards him, and... um, crem.

 

Crem. Crem. Crem.

 

Crem.

 

Showstopper, queen of Salem. Pyretic knew of her, even if he hadn't seen her fight before. Highest-ranked Epic outside of the god-tier. No one had bothered challenging her during his tenure here, which, come to think of it, was probably why they'd brought her into the arena now. They were throwing her a bone.

 

"Alright, folks. Looks like Pyretic is still coming to terms with his fate. Just look at him gape. If I were you, I'd just jump in the lava and get it over with, pal."

 

If he could get lucky... if he could get lucky just this once, and kill her before she killed him... it could be his big break! Currently, Pyretic had no Dreamstate allotment, which meant nowhere to safely practice his fire-shooting thing. Winning a match that was this unbalanced could mean rising enough to earn a slot. From there, who knew how high he could go?

 

She had closed half the distance between them already. Wait, already? How?

 

Alright, you're a smart guy. Think! What were the technicalities of her powers, again?

 

Epic power cancellation was the big one. As long as she understood that an Epic was around and within sight, she could negate one of their powers. Also, she had maybe some sort of strength boost? That was important.

 

Aaand she was almost on top of him. reflexively, he raised his hand up and tried to blast her with fire. Nothing happened, obviously. Moron.

 

"Moron. C'mon, really?" Olivia Cipher.

 

Pyretic readied a fist, but Showstopper came to a halt a few meters in front of him and sized him up in a way that made him distinctly uneasy.

 

Showstopper was 25-ish, skinny, of medium height, and sported a really goth look. Or maybe it was punk. Well, same thing. Anyway, it was pretty threatening. A ton of black makeup, a buzz cut, and more piercings than Boromir. After, you know, he was pierced by all of those arrows. Piercings. Bad metaphor? She still had those in, by the way, which was weird, because they probably counted as weapons. Sort of like brass knuckles. Eh.

 

Get a lucky hit. Get a lucky hit.

 

Pyretic charged forward, readying his secondary. His right hand began to leave a trail of fire in its wake as he ran. Once she cancels my secondary, I'll have my primary back, and I can blast her.

 

But he never felt the power leave. What was her game, exactly? She was just standing there all mock casual, with her hands behind her back and everything.

 

As he swung, she struck out. Faster than his eyes could follow, her hand dodged the fireball around his fist and grabbed his forearm. His fist stopped inches away from the side of her head, and the fireball dissipated.

 

She smiled wryly. "Dismal. Your skills are absolutely dismal. Don't telegraph your movements so much next time."

 

"Ooh. It's over, now."

 

Pyretic tried to come in with a left hook, but Showstopper just jabbed him in the gut. Her hand came in so powerfully that it actually broke through the skin, embedding itself just underneath his ribcage. Suddenly, it was hard to breath. The hand came out and he doubled over on the ground.

 

He heard Showstopper speaking above. "Okay, guys. This time, I'm taking requests. Though first I'd better..."

 

She stepped on his forearms, then grabbed his hands and neatly twisted them around a full 180 degrees. The sound of his own tendons snapping was sickening.

 

Okay. Panicking now. Showstopper was about to torture him to death. She couldn't actually kill him, obviously, but- AIYEEEEEEE!

 

"AIYEEEEEEE," he said. She'd smashed the heel of her foot into the back of his left knee. Probably fractured the cap or something. Sparks. Holy sparks. And- HOLY CALAMITY! There went the other one. Sparkity sparkity sparks sparks sparks.

 

He was sobbing now. He couldn't let the people see him like this. It would ruin him! And yet... the pain... oh sparks.

 

"Please. End it please. Oh, CALAMITY! Spegisadsjefgeh. Look. I'm a coward, okay? I'll admit it, but pleasEFRAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

 

"Woah woah woah. We can't just end it now, buddy." Showstopper put her hand next to her mouth in mock aside. "Think of the audience. All of these nice people came out here to see one thing: Epics being killed horribly. And I say, darn it if I'm not going to give it to 'em, eh?"

 

Pyretic sniffled and looked up, intending to plead some more. He stopped flat when he saw the genuine glee in Showstopper's smile. There was something distinctly unhealthy about that.

 

Pyretic was afraid of bugs. He feared a lot of things, but bugs just scared the bejeezus out of him. Sure, he could handle flies and mosquitoes and whatnot. It wasn't the little monsters themselves, it was the fact that they were always eating each other sparking alive. Laying eggs in each other or liquefying each others' insides. That was sparking scary. Just imagine you're that one bug, and... and... brrrrr. Nowadays, he had nightmares about antlions, those bugs that trap insects in a sand pit, then throw sand at them until they fall into the antlions jaws and get eaten. Alive. Yeah.

 

One of those nightmares came to him quite suddenly, then. He was in an hourglass, the jaws were waiting for him, clamping down again and again in anticipation of crushing him up, and just before he'd fallen in, the creature had, impossibly, smiled. Just like Showstopper was doing now. Reveling in its power over him, his fear, the pain he would soon feel.

 

Oh, Calamity. Showstopper was a sparking antlion. Oh, sweet Calamity.

 

Showstopper took it slow, breaking or fracturing each of his bones starting from the foot. By the femurs, he was still blubbering. By the ribs, he was screaming like a dying hamster, and by the time she was done with the arms, he was choking on his own blood. He should have passed out by then, but he later learned that Soulcaster wasn't allowing him to. Punishment for being a loser. That's what it was. In Salem, excellence was rewarded with pleasure, mediocrity with pain. Had people really complained that pre-Calamity athletes were being pushed too hard? This was... this was awful. He didn't belong here in this... place.

 

Showstopper planted a hand on his head, something he could barely feel. Snapping his neck? Oh Calamity, please.

 

Instead, she just stepped back. Gurgling blood, Pyretic turned his head. She had her hands on her hips, as if immensely proud of her handiwork. "Suggestions" were still filtering in through the overhead, most of them horrible things she should do to his genitals. She cocked her head, then shrugged and kicked him into the lava. He was burning. Burning... and burned away.

 

He snapped back to consciousness, screaming and crying. He didn't wait for Olivia's mocking commentary on the match, he just bolted off, ashamed and embarrassed. The crowd's laughter followed him all the way home.

Edited November 10, 2015 by Mckeedee123