@Mr Allen J

"You did well fighting such a beast!" Exclaimed Fafnir, who had now sheathed his Lance. Crimson looked towards the wounded and holy combatant as the dragon-like stranger fled the battle. "A cowardly tactic, is it not? Shame to him, I take it your partaking in the tournament as well?" The rough yet gentlemanly and aged voice exclaimed beneath the armored helmet. His tail would slither back and fourth in his standing pose, unsure of what judgement to make of the stranger aside from an impressive fighting skill.

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The two police officers escorting Calvin had moved on from the rank slums to one of the nicer districts, judging by how there were less people, and he could actually see the color of the pavement.

"Alright," grunted the fat police officer. "Wagon should be right around the-- Hey!"

A girl with brown hair and green sportswear was standing in front of an open Police Van holding two swords. Inside the Van was a woman in a ridiculous outfit. standing in the doorway. The two officers pulled out their guns and pointed them directly at the girl. "Get down on the ground no--"

"OH! I get it now. I'm getting arrested, aren't I?"

The officers lowered their guns and stared at Calvin, astounded by his stupidity.

"I thought you would've realized by now..."

"Yeah, well, I was wondering that myself, but then I saw the Van, and... Well, what do you know? But am I being arrested under good reason? I mean, I flipped through a pamplet that contained some basic laws, I don't know what I exactly did wrong."

"Shut up, Kid! Just let us handle--"

"Eh, that's all I need to hear."

With that, Calvin pulled his arms outward, easily snapping his handcuffs. Before either cop could pistol whip him, he grabbed both of their arms and slammed their noggins against each other, knocking both of them unconscious. He then tossed them asside. He then turned to the women.

"Those guys actually are corrupt, right? I didn't just beat up two innocent officers?"

He heard an orchestra of gun's cocking, as the officers surrounding the area had pulled out their guns, and were aiming it right at him.

"Oh, boy..."

Thinking fast, Calvin erected an Icewall and tucked behind it.

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"D... Disgusting Beast!"

Sage loudly gasps as the beast's blade stabbed into Sage's side. Normally, a blade of such weak calibur would do nothing to hinder the Angel (Or even graze them), but backed by its ki... it was unstoppable. A gust of blood came out of Sage's heavenly system, and they nearly coughed up blood themselves. The light around them died for a moment as their wings disappeared, and they landed on the ground knee first.

But, the angel mustered the strength to keep the spear manifested in case the abomination attacked.

Instead, the beast retreated into the sewers, like the dusty animal it was. Unworthy of living among man... but, there was obviously more to it than just brute force. And that was what it made it more dangerous. Tracking the beast in the sewers would be easy with their ability to sense the light in all things, but it was too risky. Chasing that beast around in it's home turf was stupid even with the ability to see it coming.

The light spear disappeared, and Sage crossed their arms, ignoring the obvious wound in their side. Still... they slipped up. Sage Pimm was the protector of this world first, and that doesn't reflect too well upon them if they are outmaneuvered by simple beasts.

What broke their line of thought was another person speaking to them... A light that Sage ignored while they were single mindedly pursuing the beast. Perhaps the light was the true reason they lost the fight? They noticed it at the very last second.

"You did well fighting such a beast! A cowardly tactic, is it not? Shame to him, I take it you're partaking in the tournament as well?"

When Sage turned to the person, they saw a towering figure... a massive beast clad in armor. A brand of armor that was unfamiliar to them. This being was definitely a Dragon... they could sense it. What was frightening was the person's inner-light - it was definitely a source of power.

"Thank you." Sage said, they turned towards the man in armor. "It was definitely more cunning than I thought... a few moments ago, I pegged it as some sort of wild animal." Sage turned towards the dead bodies left behind by Billy. "... That was my mistake."

They sighed, before thinking of the tournament. Such a barbaric event... full of fools who had nothing better to do with all the power they had than fight for amusement. Pathetic. Sage, however, had reason to believe that somebody there would have knowledge of the First Light.

"I would never partake in such a barbaric event... but, I have business there," Sage said, putting a hand on their hip. "I am searching for something... something that will change the world, and I have reason to believe some of the combatants there might lead me to do it. That, or assist me."

Sage explained... deciding not to mention the First Light just yet. The power that possessed was simply too great for the world to know about it. They must find it, and bring it back to the Pimm manor where it can be properly guarded.

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The two technological Nomads hit the ground, Justin landing on a knee, and Seven-Seven deploying her thrusters to lessen her fall. Justin rose to his feet, and then put his hands in his pockets, and threw his hood down. Pretending as if nothing happened at all.

That was a complete shitshow. A gang just came out of nowhere and attacked the two of them just because they look like Nomads. The question that was on Justin's mind was how exactly did they know the duo were Nomads. Probably something that Justin should look into... later. For now, they should get to a cheap hotel in the Favela, and lay low. With Nomadic Ass being on the line, Justin didn't want to attract any unwanted attention before the tournament.

Especially if MAVERICK and Abel were on their tail like he thought.

Seven-Seven on the other hand was as tranquil as they come. Even though there was a giant fight, it all worked out in the end. So why worry so much about it? Justin put on a good show, but that other man was the one who really stole the show. Seven-Seven grinned. Best not say that to Justin, lest she injures his fragile pride. Perhaps Seven-Seven should find him before they leave here, though he looked like a fellow they'd see at the tournament.

"You know Justin," Seven-Seven said, trying to strike up a conversation. "Someone was watching that entire fight from the shadows." She smiled like a child.

"Oh, really?" Justin asked, "Who?"

"Not sure, but you were propelled towards them towards the end of the battle." Seven-Seven said, tilting their head. "Wonder what they thought."

"Probably were getting their-" Before Justin could continue, they were utterly barraged by a stranger.

"Good afternoon ma'am or sir! Um if it's not too much to ask, can you point out the way to where a fighting competition is being held? Something about a lot of money being given to whoever wins it so I very much need to attend! Problem is that I have no clue where it is so if you can help me out...that'd be smooth sailing!"

Justin turned towards the talkative person... who was probably confused as they come. They were asking about the tournament... which Justin was getting tired of, since it was inspiring such elegant displays such as that last clusterfuck. But, this boy seemed nice enough not to attack them right off the bat, so he earned the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, Seven-Seven responded to him near immediately.

"Oh? The Brazilian Cup? It's in the Rio Arena right over there,"

Seven-Seven pointed to a massive circular building with a round, glass top. It looked grand and regal, but hard to get a good look at from this distance (Obstructed by buildings, of course). She smiled at the boy.

"I hope I helped you," She said, "Even though you're more competition, I would not stoop to such petty levels."

She laughed as her eyes glowed brightly.

"It's just not in my programming."

"What is in your programming?" Justin muttered under his breath.

---

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Everything was going great! Looking up for the duo!

They could have been out of here without a hitch, beating (or in Margot's case; cutting) each other's brains in. But, noooooooooo. The universe had to throw one more God damn variable at them. Right when Margot was taking the swords, this other fool came running up to them, fleeing the police. Ruining their stealthy escape, buuuuut, the police were more focused on him for whatever reason.

Well, Brooke didn't know this guy, or why they were after him, and she was way, way, more concerned with not digging herself a deeper hole to climb out of. So, she couldn't question whether or not these guys were corrupt, or whether or not he actually deserved to be shot at.

It was no challenge to tell that he was a Nomad, with the ice wall.

Which was perfect! They can get the hell out of here fast as humanly (or superhumanly) possible!

"Let's go!" Brooke said as she grabbed onto Margot's wrist, and pulled her out of here. Leaving Mr. Freeze to fend for himself. But, hey, if he can get himself into this situation....

... He can get himself out of it!

@Mr Allen J@wxps350

Margot easily kept up with Brooke as the former led them away from the scene. She looked at the parka wearing man as they passed and considered helping him. The ice wall made it clear that he was a fellow Nomad, and he certainly seemed to be in over his head.

However, she couldn't deny the fact he made a very convenient distraction. Not to mention all the guns that were already drawn. Nor could she be sure that all the cops were hopelessly corrupt like Lt. Mendoza. The idea of indiscriminately attacking the cops just wasn't her style.

Maybe the guy deserved it. Maybe he was some sort of psycho that kicked baby seals or something. He did certainly got a bunch of guns pointed at her. So many that she blanched at the thought of doing anything else but instantly surrender. Thankfully Brooke had grabbed her and snapped her out of it.

Still, at the same time, he did almost instinctively summon the ice wall when the cops had found them. It had already taken a few bullets, and was crumbling under the onslaught. Still being led by Brooke, she did the quickest thing she could do in the situation. As they passed, she shouted "Don't stand there, move!"

Not looking back, she ran with Brooke for a block before taking the lead. "Well that could've gone better. Follow me, I got a cache already set up at the bus station. A change of clothes, disguises, and enough money to rent a room for the night. Turning down an alleyway, she jumped up to one of the few fire escapes in the city. Turning around, she reached down and offered her hand to Brooke. "Com'on, the cop's will be hard pressed to track us if we stick to the rooftops."

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A part of Brooke felt a little bad for leaving that kid behind like that, now that she knew how hospitable Rio's finest was. And the fact that he was obviously a Nomad. But, Brooke was obviously thinking on her toes, and, sadly, what's done is done.

Even as they ran through the streets of Rio, the thought occurred to her to stop running because they look mighty conspicuous out here. But, by then, Margot had decided to take the lead, and had something actually useful to contribute!

"Well that could've gone better. Follow me, I got a cache already set up at the bus station. A change of clothes, disguises, and enough money to rent a room for the night."

Brooke widely smiled, following it with a chuckle. "Change of clothes? Disguises? What are you? Some kind of super spy?" She said in jest as she did her best to keep up with Margot's immense speed. Then another thought occurred to her. "Oh, wait! Are you suggesting we have a sleepover?" She asked with another chuckle.

"I haven't had one since I was fourteen! We can paint each other's nails and talk about boys!"

She laughed for a moment, before she started tugging at the gym bag over her shoulder.

"No need to worry about me, though. I got plenty of changes of clothes here."

Turning down an alleyway, she jumped up to one of the few fire escapes in the city. Turning around, she reached down and offered her hand to Brooke. "Com'on, the cop's will be hard pressed to track us if we stick to the rooftops."

Brooke put both hands on her hips as she came to a stop. Part of her knew that she could had parted ways with Margot right here, and went her own way. But, she realized that, since the start of this journey, she made her first ally. As strange as this sword-wielding woman was, she knew that she had a friend in her, and that was something that Brooke shouldn't take lightly.

Or for granted.

Brooke hopped up to her feet.

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This fine day, the arena that had been up for ages, normally dormant as there wasn't much use for the location. However, today, was the day of the Brazilian Fighting Cup, an event known all across the world, that invited fighters from all over the world to compete.

Standing in the center of Rio de Janeiro was a gigantic building that looked regal as it came. Constructed out of grey stone blocks, with a shiny metal top that was painted gold. The Rio arena was used for all sorts of events of this nature. The entrance to the arena was marked with vibrantly (and scantily) dressed Samba Dancers. Inside the enormous arena itself was like a stadium. Thousands of seats safely above the fighting grounds beneath them.

The arena for the fighters was far from a simple arena square made out of stone. The massive arena had many different "rings" for the Nomads to do combat on. They were more like stages from traditional fighting games. A square arena that was decorated in some sort of theme. One stage was a vibrant forest, while another was a mountain. Having these many stages served as an advantage for the very first round of the tournament.

A man stood on the stage in the very center of the arena, a place which many know as the winners bracket. This man dressed very exquisitely wearing a checkered white and black suit, rather messy curly hair, and a large hat. He had a megaphone.

"WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN TO THE BRAZILIAN FIGHTING CUP!" The announce shouted into the megaphone with excitement and personality. "And I am your host, Annnnnnnnndre! And I am pleased to make your acquaintance!"

The crowd loudly cheered as Andre put both his hands up in the air with a wide smile.

"This is where Martial Artists, and Nomads, from all over come to compete for fame, fortune, and more!" Andre shouted. "First round is going to be preliminaries! Where our fighters eliminate the jobbers before moving up to the main event! You know the drill!"

The crowd cheered again, as Andre bowed.

"Anyone can compete, but only few can win! To win these matches, all you have to do is knock out the opponent, or remove them from the stage by any means necessary! But, please do stop at killing them, you know our janitors hate us."

The crowd laughed as Andre valiantly raised his finger up into the air.

"Get ready fighters! The first round begins soon!"

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Awwwwww yeah! The Brazilian Fighting Cup!

Jaden dreamed of challenging the Cup for that prize, baby! But, Sensei always said that the cup was "a fool's game." Bless his heart, but now that Jaden's his own ninja, looks like he'll be winning it this fine day. Maybe winning the hearts of one of these sexy Samba Dancers, too!

Jaden walked into a contestants area. A small platform above the stands in which the fighters get a clear view of the arena, and, boy, it was a lot to take in! Multiple stages! All of which Jaden was going to kill it on. Personally, he was hoping that no assassins or any Japanese patriots would show up, and try to ruin the tournament for him. That'd be a biiiiiitch. Fortunately, it'll only do more to promote his album.

But, enough of Jaden being the best! He had to listen to this fuckin' announcer spout the rules. Well, seemed pretty standard. Knock out the opponent, or send their ass flying. Jaden was going to do nothing but perfects. Before they get to the good stuff, they had to get rid of the scrubs. Naturally. Jaden, for one, couldn't wait to see who he gets paired up against. Better be someone good, because jobbers... Eh, jobbers don't suit him! He needs someone big and flashy to defeat.

Though, walking into the contestant area were the two people he met last night. Disguised in cloaks, and shit. It made Jaden wonder what the hell they were hiding. Still, many Nomads had someone after them after some kind of bullshit, so he couldn't blame them. He was no different.

Since he made friends with them last night, he might as well make conversation.

"Heeeeeey!" Jaden loudly said as he approached the two. "Nice fightin' last night!"

The Ninja... Justin didn't know what to make of the man just yet. He was a mercenary, that part was obvious. But, he didn't know about the price on their head. If he did, he would had ignored that street rat, Claudio, and went straight for them. Maybe he didn't think they were guilty. He was going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, thank you." Seven-Seven said with a childlike smile. "You were also excellent out there."

"Pfft," Jaden crossed his arms with a cocky smile on his face. "Those guys were just scrubs that follow the leader. See all these people here? They're the real challenge."

"The ki levels here are quite high," Seven-Seven duly noted. "But, I am not worried even in the slightest. After all, we need this money."

Jaden raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a robit or something?" He asked.

"Ye-"

"Andrea's a cyborg." Justin chimed in, pulling Seven-Seven aside.

"That makes sense. Ki sensing is handy, ain't it?" Jaden laughed, not questioning anything.

"Oh, yes." Seven-Seven said.

"I hope ya'll are prepared to lose," Jaden said as he grabbed his swords. "Because I'm about to kill it."

"Is this witty pre-fight banter?" Seven-Seven asked. "Because I believe you are forgetting the part about wit."

Justin laughed, and so did Jaden (for different reasons), as he faced the girl he perceived as a cyborg. He took a few steps away as he faced them, "You got jokes, but like I said... I'll be laughing at the end here." Jaden grinned as he leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms.

"... That guy's confident." Justin dryly said.

"Oh, the vigors of youth, Justin." Seven-Seven said.

"Let's focus on ourselves for now."

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Unlike the other Nomads of this tale, Sage was not competing in the tournament.

Far from it, in fact. They had little interest in wasting their innate talents for fame, or money. Instead, they wanted to gather information. Instead of entering through the special contestant entrance, Sage walked in through the front doors, and took a seat on the stands. Sitting with their legs crossed like a lady, they patiently awaited the beginning of the tournament.

They wanted to scout out anyone that could had possible knowledge of the First Light, which they were certain that someone here had. After all, fighters from all over came to participate in these tournaments, somebody had to be linked to it.

As eloquent as Sage looked, their servant, Mikhail, couldn't share the same demeanor as they had a container of popcorn, and a hotdog.

Sage's eyes drifted towards him, giving him a look of disapproval, before focusing back on the tournament.

Let the game of fools begin.

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"Shit, Blue! We're late!"

Brooke was dragging her new friend Margot along to the contestant area. It was a real miracle the police didn't pursue them! But the problem was that Margot was so paranoid about the cops finding them that they had to take the looooong way. And now, because of that, the fighting has probably already started, and Brooke has missed her chance!

As much as Brooke wanted to beat skulls in, she was mostly here to find someone with a style that'd suit her. A style that'd allow her to overcome the weaknesses of the Vanburen style and create the ultimate style. One with a perfect defense, and a perfect offense! The mere thought made Brooke all tingly inside. But, that was just wishful thinking, at best (Well, it was better than sulking about how unrealistic it was).

All she had to do was get the attention of a good enough martial artist. And how will she do that? By hoping someone doesn't defeat the Vanburen style.

Brooke ran into the contestant area right when Andre started announcing the rules. So they weren't that far behind, huh? Well, Brooke had plenty of time to get ready. She was all dressed up in her sparring attire. Which consisted of a gym bra, and shorts. It wasn't the worst outfit compared to some of the other Nomads she had seen, but definitely not modest by her standards.

Well, it at least allowed for ease of movement.

Letting go of Margot, Brooke turned around and looked at the crowd.

"So, what do you think of our competition?" Brooke asked. "Oh! Or better yet, are you ready to see the real fighting style I'm known for?" Brooke asked again, trying to put on a false bravado as she hid her lack of confidence in her fighting style.

"This is going to be great!"

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Finally, the tournament.

After these years, Brenda never thought that she would ever participate in this. After all the drama and crime the influx of Nomads caused, she never thought that she would become a Nomad.

Things change, obviously.

Her brother was out there all alone, doing stupid stuff in the name of martial arts, or whatever stupid Nomads do.

Wearing her trademark motorcycle jacket, the tall Amazon walked up to the arena with her gym bag over her shoulder. This was the first time Brenda considered a tournament, but she needed the money, of course. The Samba Dancers were nothing more than a slutty distraction for the tourists to dance with. She shook her head as she scrolled on by.

When Brenda stepped through the glass doors of the entrance, she was met with a front desk, that she casually walked up to, and leaned forward. Intimidating the small, and meek, Japanese desk worker. "Yeah, I'm here to sign up to the tournament."

"Name?"

"Brenda Andrade."

"... Brenda, that is a nice name." A man spoke with a thick Indian accent, and made Brenda whip around to see a large Indian man dressed in weird clothes, and raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks." Brenda awkwardly said as she shifted her fingers through her afro.

"A woman as beautiful as yourself should not be participating in the tournament," The man said as he really close to her. "It would break my old heart if I had to fight you in the tournament."

He put his hands on Brenda's shoulders, and almost made her whip around and break his jaw, but that wasn't what sent her over the edge.

"You know where you'd really do good, Brenda...?" The man asked, leaning in close.

This was.

"... My bed." He whispered in her ear.

And that was the last straw. Her fist ignited with a red-hot magma as she whipped around, and punched him square in the chest with all her strength. The man, being a Nomad, was knocked back a few meters. And before he could react, Brenda closed the distance, fists balled, and were surrounded with stone. She did her signature move: the Rock Breaker, with a loud shout as she delivered four lightning fast punches to the man's chest infused with the power of Gaia herself.

A quick full body pivot gave way into a powerful uppercut that sent the man flying headfirst into the ceiling. He bashed his head against the ceiling, before falling down. Brenda's right hand was glowing with red-hot magma again. When he came falling down, Brenda dashed forward with her burning fist extended, and punched the man right out the door.

He smashed through the doors, and came rolling out as he smashed into a car.

Brenda shook her head. Not only did he lay his hands on her, and whisper rapey things in her ear, but he didn't even put up a fight. She grabbed her gym bag as the terrified Secretary said.

"M-ma'am! Contestants are not allowed to fight outside the ring!"

Brenda looked at her for a moment, before saying, "Oh? Did he sign up?"

"N-No."

"Then he wasn't a contestant then." Brenda smirked as she carried on through the halls of the arena to the contest stands. She merely found herself a seat as she waited for the party to get started. Competition looked stiff.

Too bad she wasn't the type to back down easily.

I don't even know what happened here please ignore.

Steven Bannon Rodriguez was a legend. He'd worn the black and white referee's jumper for Chikara, World Entertainment Wrestling, even underground boxing rings in the 80s, and when the Mixed Martial Arts movement had split away, he'd split with them. He'd worked day and night for his dreams, hosting tournament after tournaments for far less then minimum wage to set rules and regulations for everything under the sun. He'd refereed in Reading, arbitrated at Albaqueque, and judged at Jefferson's Pass. It was under his tuition programs that refereeing had become established and unionized, and it was under his watchful eye that many a young and gangly lad in a black and white jumper two sizes too big for him had taken their first steps into the squared circle. And he was knocked out and tied up in a position any japanese rope enthusiast would recognize as the Gyaku-ebi, or reversed shrimp. Joaoquim tied the last set of ropes into position around his mouth and threw him bodily into the man-sized wardrobe.

That took care of that. Joaoquim made his way to the locker room's one and only mirror, glancing at his own features in the mirror. Not too hard to change. He'd have to swap out his hat for a metric tonne of brylcream to get the referee look down, but apart from that one thing, they could have practically been brothers. One thin, dark-haired, Hispanic male looked like pretty much any other. That and nobody would really notice. He'd seen a few of the contestants, between last nights brouhaha and this morning, when he'd sneaked in here with a dustpan and brush pretending to sweep the floors. None of them were professional athletes, regulars who'd put together a long and perfectly choreographed show. They were all newcomes and freaks! It was the perfect crime. He'd waltz in, stand in the corner occasionally writing down fouls, collect his paycheck and leave. And he'd get to see more of these psychoacoustics in action and find out what the hell they were, too.

He riled through this new set of clothes and their new pockets. He didn't like how sparse and empty they were. He'd have to correct that in future. But for now, he had a solution. Taking yet another set of paracord rope from his old clothes, he tied it into a simple three-band weave and threaded it into the loop of his belt, ready to be yanked out at a moment's notice. He wore the ref's whistle around his neck, giving it a silly little toot, before taking a look at the absolutely monstrous pile of paper that was the rules of this tournament. He wondered if it would make good cigarette paper.

---

Margot was relieved when they finally got into the stadium, her disguise seeming to hold. She couldn't help but notice that the police presence seemed to very light for such a large event, but considering that each and every fighter in the tournament was a force to be reckoned with she figured that the event was self-policing. It was almost a relief to see that she wasn't the only one to walk around openly armed. She was only able to hear Brooke's question over the crowd by virtue of being dragged along behind her.

"So, what do you think of our competition?" Brooke asked. "Oh! Or better yet, are you ready to see the real fighting style I'm known for?" Brooke asked again, trying to put on a false bravado as she hid her lack of confidence in her fighting style.

"This is going to be great!"

Margot looked over at her perky friend. "I can tell you I recognize more than a few from their reputations. So, there's that." Smirking she added "Though I must say you are a relative unknown. Is this your first big-name tournament? I hope you do well."

She motioned to the sign-up line, once again taking the lead. "But the first step is getting registered. Allons-y."

---

The arena was a cool and humid environment. The stage floated on a pool designed to mimic a lagoon with a waterfall a few yards west of it. Because the stage was floating, it easily bobbed to the slightest shift in weight. The contestants had to swim out to the stage, which that alone had been an eliminator for some of those hydrophobic fighters who were either terrified or couldn’t swim to save their skins. It was a shame for they might had actually stood a chance in the cup, but tournaments were rather ruthless when they chose what society deemed was the best fighter.

The first opponent swam out to the floating stage, grinning as he stroked his arms through the water and paddled with his feet. When he grasped the edge of the platform, his amber eyes widened a little in surprise when he saw it dip toward him, the other end rising so high it blotted out the stadium lights.

This is going to be a tricky one, he mused.

Carefully, keeping his body low and flat against the tilted platform he pulled himself up and out of the water and log rolled onto it. The other end dropped, sending waves rolling back toward the docks. The young man remained flat on his back until the stage stopped bobbing before he raised his legs, twisting them into a windmill. Turning on his shoulders and leaning to his forearms, he pushed off of them, springing to his feet. With an enthusiastic grin, he hopped around on the balls of his feet, throwing a few air punches and kicks.

“Rah! I am so pumped to get this started. Bring out my opponent already!” the man roared. His name was Bai Long; The Tiger of China. It was noted by the black tiger stripe tattoos that covered his body. His eyes were also a hazel-gold like the jungle lord, his canines slightly pointed.

His opponent approached the stage as a magenta blur in the water. He watched as hands grasped the edge of the stage and widened his stance so as not to be jarred by the shift in the platform. His weight alone seemed heavy enough to keep it from tipping too much. What rose out of the water, he didn’t know whether was his opponent or one of the ring models. She was wearing a magenta one piece that shimmered wetly and clung to her curves leaving little to the imagination. Her long, auburn hair covered her face like a curtain before she brushed it back with her fingers, revealing the beautiful face that was veiled behind it.

Bai’s mouth fell open in silent awe, his cheeks flushing a little at the beauty who sat like a mermaid at the edge of the stage. She hid her eyes behind a purple masquerade mask, but through the eye holes he could see the glint of blue. The woman known simply as “Velvet” in the competition whined quietly to herself.

“Oh my; no one said I would be gettink’ wet so soon,” she muttered. She grasped her breasts, rubbing them in her hands, which to Bai looked like she was trying to excite herself when really she was warming up for the match. Her contender clapped a hand against his face to hide the trickle of blood that started to descend from his nostrils.

Velvet glanced over at him, pausing as though she were just finally taking notice of him.

“Oh! Did I keep you waitink’?” she asked. She released her breasts, letting them bounce heavily back into place before she rolled onto her stomach. Bai’s eyes grew larger when he noticed her leotard did nothing to hide the glittering swells of her creamy backside. The four stars that would have been on her right cheek were hidden with some waterproof foundation. She rose onto her hands and knees and the jumbotron zoomed in on her backside for all the fan service in the audience.

A torrent of aroused cheers exploded about the coliseum.

Standing to her feet, Velvet brushed her wet mane behind her shoulders and approached her opponent with a rocking sashay of her hips.

“A-are you my opponent?” Bai asked, wondering if this was a joke.

Velvet stopped two arm lengths away from him as her pink, bowed lips quirked into a smirk.

“Да. You can call me Velvet, and what should I call loser?”

Bai’s brows immediately crashed together. All enchantment he had been suffering was undone when she had called him a loser. Wiping the remnants of blood away with the back of his wrapped hand, he lowered it and growled, “I am Bai Long! The Tiger of the East! The Tiger of China; and you best remember that for I will be the winner of this competition.”

“Oh?” said Velvet, pretending to be intrigued as she perked a fine brow.

“Fighters, get ready for Round One!” came the announcer.

Bai extended his fist and Velvet reached out to tap her fist against his own.

“Begin!”

With a fighter’s cry, Bai thrust out his right palm for Velvet’s chest and for a brief second, he felt his heart skip when she didn’t even try to dodge. His eyes swelled in shock when his palm met with her massive boob, feeling it sink pleasantly against the warm flesh. For a moment, he felt his guard drop just to savor the elation. He had to be the luckiest guy on earth to touch the chest of such a lovely woman. Suddenly, her breast instantly firmed up and like rubber, he was repelled. A strange force shot through his palm and slammed into the rest of his body. Bai gasped as he staggered back two steps. Velvet stayed on top of him. She stepped toward him while he was trying to regain his balance and folded over, whipping her hip toward his crotch. Her hip struck him in his happy place.

“Agh!” Bai cried as his hands naturally went to cup his tenders. As he bent over he saw cleavage rushing toward his face. He thought at first that his face was about to be embraced by magnificent pillows, but the ki concentrated in them made them feel like a mallet. Bai’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling briefly back into his head from the stun. He started falling toward his back and he managed to pull himself back into focus mid-plummet. Gazing up, he saw two spread legs and a gorgeous butt descending toward him. It blotted out the arena lights and left a shadow on his face. The voice he heard was distant like a dream.



The cheeks suddenly sparked on fire, and Bai couldn’t help but laugh. He knew it was over. Velvet’s ass met his face with so much force the entire platform went underwater. A tower of water rose into the air where the stage once was and as the tower receded, the floating platform popped back up with only Velvet sprawled across it. She was lying flat on her stomach, trying to increase her surface area so that the bobbing and jostling of the stage wouldn’t throw her off. Floating face down in the water in a dead man’s float was the tiger himself.



Lifeguards dove into the water to retrieve the defeated fighter as the crowd cheered. Velvet sprang to her feet and raised her fists in victory. There were several camera flashes winking from the audience mostly to capture Velvet’s bouncing breasts as she hopped up and down in victory. Whether she won or lost, she was going to have fans looking forward to her glorious matches.

---

---

---

The fryers were smoking at a small Mom & Pop Restaurant in Rio. It wasn’t a touristic attraction, but those who knew of Mamãe’s were few. The restaurant had a straw roof and brick walls that had random graffiti sprayed all over them. Inside, there were stools for the bar and long rectangular wooden tables. Seated at one of the tables was a lone little boy and a feast. With a big spoon, he scooped up coconut rice and beef to cram into his mouth before stuffing it even fuller with a crispy flatbread pastéis. The boy’s cheeks were round like balloons as he tried to chew all the food. It was just so delicious that he almost cried—especially after so many days of travel. It hadn’t been his first serving. Actually, the multiple plates stacked on the table said that it had between 9 or 10. There were a few steel fans spinning trying to keep the restaurant cool, but only succeeded in blowing the heat from the ovens around. The smell of coals and barbecue was an aroma that permeated the air and was what had lured Little Gideon to the restaurant.

After managing to swallow down his food, Little Gideon raised his spoon and waved it around happily. “Mama! Can I have some more?”

“Garoto (boy), don’t you think you had enough?” Mama called back. She was a big woman with brown skin and long, braided hair. She wore a dress with a white top and floral skirts.

Little Gideon glanced down at his round belly with a blank expression. His hoodie was rising over it and he merely tugged it back down before giving Mama his best impression of innocents. His gray eyes glimmered as though ready to spill with tears.

Mama sighed in defeat. “You are a growing boy. My husband will be mad at me for cooking so much for you. I will cook you one more plate.”

“Yes!” Little Gideon cheered before he went back to snacking on rolls. There was a small box television set that was broadcasting the Brazilian Fighting Cup. As much as he found the competition to be exciting, he knew it wouldn’t have been a good idea to participate. Not only would he have revealed his location, but his enemies would never stop coming. It had bad news written all over it. There was a certain match the caught his attention. He tossed a coxinhas ball in his mouth, munching happily on the cheese and chicken that melted on his tongue. It was mid-swallow when he watched a masked, magenta-wearing diva uppercut a contender with her boobs that made him suddenly choke. Little Gideon’s hands went to his throat as he started choking on the partially digested snack food. Tears welled in his eyes and grasping desperately for his glass of cane juice, he started chugging it to get the little roll down.

“Aaah, I almost died,” he breathed in relief before he stared in horror back at the television set. The boob lady was here!? Not only that she was competing in the cup and he didn’t know why. Was she looking for him? If she was here, then more than likely The Agency followed her. Little Gideon carefully glanced about the restaurant. So far he had been the only customer, but seeing Boob Lady on TV made him feel extra paranoid.

The flimsy restaurant door swung open as a tall, shirtless dark-skinned man carrying a machete marched in. His eyes immediately fell on the little boy who was seated right by the entrance and his nose wrinkled when he saw the amount of empty plates stacked upon the table. Little Gideon looked up at the frightening man and paled a little as he grasped his hoodie and once again tugged it down over his belly. Grinning sheepishly, he waved up at the man.

“Papa!” Mama greeted.

Little Gideon’s face went even whiter, so this was Papa. The man looked like a veteran of some horrible war. He pointed his machete at Gideon and gruffly—and from the tone of his voice—angrily—began spouting in Portuguese:

Why are you feeding this boy so much? Has he paid?

Papa, calm down please. He was so filthy and thin when I found him. I don’t think he has a family.

Are you going to take in every stray dog in the street?

Papa, please…

He’s a white boy. He must have a rich family somewhere!

Little Gideon had been listening to the exchange despite not understanding a single word. Papa lowered his machete and marched over to stand before him.

“How do you plan on paying for this garoto?” he asked.

Oh shit, I haven’t even thought about that, Gideon thought. He had been so starving that he forgot that food wasn’t free. He had to think of something. “Uh, my daddy will be here soon. He’ll pay for me!”

Papa then turned to Mama, See? Just as I told you. He has a family. Don’t give him anymore food until he pays!

“Your papa better be here to pay or you’ll be washing dishes until your hands fall off,” Papa threatened.

Little Gideon nodded and as soon as the man turned away, his mind spiraled into disaster. This is bad.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the door opened again. The man who entered emitted a powerful ki that rippled throughout the restaurant. Little Gideon looked over at him curiously, trying not to look too surprised. He was convinced that he was an Agent, and he didn’t seem to care who sensed his aura. He was possibly baiting trouble to come his way.

The man had long, silver hair and eyes and he was wearing a black vest with no shirt. His body was lean and solid, but not bulky. Little Gideon suspected that he might have been an agile fighter. His black pants were tactical and were tucked into black combat boots. Their eyes met and Little Gideon hardened the muscles in his face to keep the indifferent look on it. The silver-haired man, Jack Silvermane, stopped a foot from the door to regard the kid.

“That’s a lot of plates you got there,” he noted. “’Seems quite a lot for a kid your size.”

Little Gideon gripped his hoodie nervously.

“This must be a good place to eat then,” Jack deduced as he walked further into the restaurant to find a seat at the bar.

Little Gideon sighed in relief. If he wanted to get out of this mess, then he knew that now was the best time. Sliding out of his chair, he scurried passed the tables to the back kitchen where Mama was making him a plate.

“Mama, my Papa is here. Can I get the plate to go?” he asked.

The kind woman turned to Little Gideon and smiled. “Yes. I will put the food in a box.”

Little Gideon anxiously stood by, waiting for Mama to finish cooking. When she dumped all of his food in the to-go box and handed it to him, he hugged her goodbye, pecked her on the cheek, and got the hell out of there without looking back.

“HEY!” Papa roared as he watched Little Gideon sprint out the door.

“Papa, it’s okay.” Mama pointed at the silver-haired man. “He’s that boy’s Papa.”

Jack’s face instantly went blank. “…what?”

Papa walked over to Jack with his machete on his shoulder and frowned. “I don’t care who you are. I just want my money!”

Jack slid off the stool with his hands raised in surrender. “Woah, hey pal, I just got here.”

“That kid said you’re his father!”

What the fuck!? Jack thought. That little fat kid? “Shit!”

With an enraged growl, Jack whirled and bolted for the door just barely dodging a machete that bit into the doorframe. He darted into the street and looked left and right, trying to deduce where the fat kid had gone. He was pretty quick for being so plump.

Little Gideon held onto his to-go box with one hand and swung his arm with his other to power his sprint. He was panting like a pregnant woman, his hoodie having rolled up his belly and he wasn’t too concerned with pulling it down. He knew he was looking like a fat kid with a lunch box. He had consumed more food than his compact body could handle, and already he was forced to burn it all off. He had actually been hoping to sleep it off.

Just my luck! he thought.

“You fat little bastard! I’m gonna beat the beef and rice out of you!” Jack bellowed.

Little Gideon peered over his shoulder at the pursuing Agent and nearly shat his pants. He had caught up to him quick. He couldn’t keep up his sprint. He was either going to faint or vomit from being so full. He had to find a place to hide!

Little Gideon saw a drain tunnel beneath one of the favelas and quickly raced over to it. He dove into it only to plug it up at the waist. Kicking and squirming, he tried to squeeze his way in until he felt hands latch onto his legs.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jack snarled.

Little Gideon slapped his hands against the walls of the tunnel in a poor attempt to resist being dragged out. Jack jerked him free and grabbed the kid, holding him up beneath his arms. He was surprised by how heavy he was, he actually felt himself struggling to hold him.

“Holy shit!” he rasped. “You’ve been eating too many burgers kid!”

Little Gideon kicked and struggled. “Help! Child molester! Pedophile! Rapist!”

He screamed every bad word he could think of, and citizens and tourists all stopped to regard the situation. Jack glanced at all the people who were staring at them and frightfully released Gideon.

“No! He’s lying. It’s not what you think!” Jack pathetically explained. He saw Little Gideon attempt to escape and snagged him by the back of his hood. “I’m his father and he’s being a bad kid.”

“So you are his father!” came a familiar voice.

Jack paled. He couldn’t believe his luck. Papa had followed him. Really?

“I want my money!”

Little Gideon jerked his hood from Jack’s grip and grabbed his to-go box as he started running down an alley.

“You little- Argh! You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Jack growled and ran after him just to get away from Papa. The comical chase didn’t seem like it was ever going to end.

At last, the Brazilian Fighting Cup. Calvin sighed and held his arms behind his head as he walked towards the entrance, paying the Samba Dancers no attention. He survived last night despite the dozens of police that swarmed his ice barrier, by rolling himself into a Ball of Ice and rolling downtown. Once he was out of view, he looked for a place to crash until morning. Where other Nomads might have had dozens of secret bunkers or resided in safe districts, Calvin went the last place anybody would expect; A small pub. The owner was kind enough to let him stay until morning. That, or he was thankful that Calvin threw out a couple of thugs who tried to rob the place.
As soon as he walked inside, he already saw two people at the front desk. One was a tall dark-skinned woman, the other was an oddly dressed Indian Man. The man wrapped his hands around her, and whispered something into his ear. In instant retaliation, she whipped around and socked him right in the chest with fists of actual Fire. Calvin instinctively dodged as the man was flown back. By the time he stood back up, the woman rushed and delivered four rapid punches caked with stone against him, shouting "Rock Breaker!".
She then punched the man into the air with an uppercut, the man's head cracking a hole into the ceiling. She then hit him with another fire punch, sending him straight out the door.

One of the ladies at the front desk scolded her in distress,

"M-ma'am! Contestants are not allowed to fight outside the ring!"

"Oh? Did he sign up?"

"N-No."

"Then he wasn't a contestant then.", The woman finished as she walked through the doorway to the Arena.

Calvin walked up to the Registrar while she was still looking at the fiery woman. Calvin startled her, saying "Excuse me? Is this where we sign up?"

"Yes." The woman replied, appearing somewhat relieved, "Name?"

"Calvin Redug."

"Cahl. Ven. Reedug." The Registrar spelled out. "Alright, go on through that door." The Registrar pointed a manicured finger.

"Thank you. Sorry for startling you."

Calvin acted cool, but deep down he was concerned. He could potentially face a woman who could control fire. That'd make a majority of his Special Attacks useless, meaning he'd have to rely on his regular attacks. Calvin never really considered that there could be potentially dozens of contestants who learned more advanced martial arts than him. For the first time in a long time, Calvin felt nervous.

---

---

A white van sped through the streets of Rio, marked with a purple diamond on the side, with a vertical crescent facing upward, obviously meant to signify a Horizon. Beneath it, the words HORIZON FRONTIER was written in all caps. The van reached the Brazilian Fighting Cup. But rather than stopping at the front like several other Nomads, who walked down a long velvet carpet, glorified by dozens of onlookers, it went around the corner, where several crates and trucks were unloading materials. Once it positioned itself, the backdoors of the van swung wide open.
Inside, several doctors crowded what appeared to be a man wearing a suit of armor, performing the finishing touches on him before he would show the whole world the power of the Horizon Frontier Power Suits(TM). Atleast that was the cover story. Every one of the doctors knew exactly what SYM-04 was. Once they were done, they cleared a way for him to walk through the double doors that kept him trapped in the dark vehicle. SYM-04 held out a hand to block the initial glare, and then stepped out. The doctors followed SYM-04 inside. After talking straight to the Director, they walked off elsewhere, leaving "Jeremy", as they introduced SYM-04, to himself.

---

Far off elsewhere, in an abandoned Inn on the border of Rio, an entire team of engineers and technicians sat at different stations, each piece of machinery controlling a different part of SYM-04's casual actions. A man in a business suit sat at a desk in the middle of the room, sipping coffee, amist the busy chaos.
"Sir, SYM-04 is in position." One of the technicians sat at the a monitor directly showing SYM-04's current sight.
"Alright, send the command ordinate." The Boss said between sips.
The technician rattled away several command prompts.

---

At the Fighting Cup, Jeremy suddenly jolted upwards, and walked several paces forward, catching a few confused glares of passerby. He then turned around a corner, where two security guards stood in front of a metal door to the Arena.
The larger of the two stopped SYM. "Sorry uh... Sir? We need proof you're in the tournament to enter through this door."

---

"Sir, we've reached an obstacle." The technicians became panicked. The Boss stood up, and pointed to a man clutching a Microphone. "John, reassure them that SYM-04 is in the tournament." He then pointed at a man wearing a suit with several white balls attached to it. "You, activate synchronization, and show them The Pass."

---

Jeremy awkwardly raised his Tournament Pass to the security guards. "H-H-hA-Hurr" he stuttered.

---

"Damnit John, what's going on?" The Boss dropped his mug.

John fiddled with the microphone, before hitting it out of anger and repeating, "Here is my Pass"

---

"Here is my Pass", Jeremy stated clearly. The two security guards shifted suspicious looks at each other, before opening the door and letting him in. Jeremy walked in a little too normally. Scanning the large room, it was full of fighters. Some were talking, or sitting down. Some were warming up with bravado techniques. When Jeremy "Scanned" the room, he didn't do it in the sense of looking around. He scanned every fighter in the room for their Ki levels. Some were higher than others, but almost all of them were more than a normal, juicy, fill... Jeremy felt his mouth begin watering, and his tail start softly twitching as he stood.

---

"What's going on?!" The Boss broke his second mug of coffee on the floor. The janitor sighed.

The visual feed of SYM-04 was covered in fog and water. a deep, monstrous breathing eminated through the audio feed. "It's the Ki Scan. There's so much Ki in that room, SYM-04's starting to become hungry", a Technician whiped sweat from his brow.

"Damnit, where the hell are the scientists, this is their job!" The Boss pounded his desk.

"Sir, they're with the dancers up front..." An embarassed technician tugged his collar.

"Tell them to get a hooker if they're so damn frisky, and to get to SYM-04 NOW!" The Boss hit his desk again, this time leaving a very present mark. "In the meantime, have him sit down and enter Dormancy."

---

Jeremy stopped twitching his tail, and calmly turned to sit down in the nearest chair, with his hands pressed against his lap. He hung his head down, and his blue visor went dark. Far away, the technicians prayed to god that they could keep SYM-04 under control...

---

---

---

"Jesus fucking Christ, your tits are as big as your muscles... scratch that, the damn meat on your arms are bigger, but still."

The man had virtually come out of nowhere, and began directing lewd remarks towards Brenda out of the blue.

She whipped around towards him to see him face to face, to see a strange looking dapper dressed man. She saw someone like him on TV. He was obviously some eccentric yahoo in the shape of a Nomad. She narrowed her eyes at him, and loudly groaned, as she looked at him over the shoulder. With boredom in her eyes, she said,

"You have the subtly of a sledgehammer," Brenda said with aggression, turning towards this man and then crossing her arms. Perving on her features like that... Brenda knew that she was beautiful, but she didn't need some costumed yahoo that thinks he can throw a punch acting like she was a sex object. "You best watch who you're talking to like that, I already kicked one horny loser's teeth in today..."

She rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the wall.

"... But, please, make it two. I implore you."

She was about to put on a threatening display with her magma fists, but she chose not to. If this jackass wanted to bug her, then he was going to see how big her muscles are.

---

---

---

"I can tell you I recognize more than a few from their reputations. So, there's that." Smirking she added "Though I must say you are a relative unknown. Is this your first big-name tournament? I hope you do well."

She motioned to the sign-up line, once again taking the lead. "But the first step is getting registered. Allons-y."

"Pfft, you really must be from the age of musketeers," Brooke said as she quickly reached into her bag and pulled out her cellphone. Raising it up into the air in full display to her friend Margot. She tapped it as she said, "There's an app for that, Blue. Get with the times."

Brooke was already registered, so there was no need to do it a second time (unless she wants to make herself sound stupid). So, Brooke was going to do other things. There was a whole lot of people here, might as well scope out the competition while Margot's doing her thing. Oh! Maybe Brooke could find the person with the style she needs to make the Vanburen style perfect! Or just make some more friends (out of the people she was going to beat up).

When Brooke and Margot parted ways for even a brief moment, the former began looking at the people here with a look of curiosity and fear. Some of these people looked serious! Brooke wished that she had the poker-face these people had, but she always approached life with a smile. Maybe she'd look weaker than the others, but that didn't matter if Brooke could muster the ferocity of dinosaurs where it counted.

There were a lot of people... a group of three talking that looked very familiar, like she saw them on something, but couldn't recall. Part of her wanted to ask, but she choose to keep her mouth shut. Then she saw a tall African woman and a man who looked like he jumped straight out of those cartoons having some kind of confrontation. Though, for all of her posturing, Brooke couldn't keep her eyes off the African woman's breasts. The way they were accentuated by her loose shirt... Brooke had to look away.

She looked in the right direction because she saw that boy from last night. The one hauling ass from police that almost got herself and Margot arrested. He got away, but probably because those cops were shitty. Part of her wanted to give him a piece of her mind!

Brooke moved her way over to the boy, clutching her bag very tightly, and she got close to him. "Oh, so you did escape?" She rhetorically asked. "That's fine and dandy, and all, but you almost got me and my friend caught!"

In retrospect, he probably didn't do it on purpose, but Brooke was bored.

"I hope you're happy."

---

---

---

While the other fighters were talking trash, or just talking, Seven-Seven was observing. The digital sensors in her eyeballs allowed her to pick up a large amount of information. However, they were useless compared to her ability to sense Ki. A strange module installed into her being, but useful nonetheless. From what she could tell, Ki-sensing was a technique reserved for the few, as Justin had no idea what she was talking when she mentioned it.

Seven-Seven smiled widely as the room filled up. This competition was going to be great! While it was a matter of gaining the funding necessary to make this trip, much, much, easier, Seven-Seven knew that it would be a bit of fun. While she was no martial artist like Justin, she had to think about how fun it would be from their perspective!

Though, something curious popped up when a new competitor walked into the room. Seven-Seven couldn't sense his ki, while she could sense everyone else'. Strange. She wondered if her sensors were malfunctioning - then remembered that couldn't be right. Well, curiosity was programmed into the girl, so she decided to take measures into her own hands.

Justin was distracted, so Seven-Seven walked over to the robotic person who was sitting down. Seemingly unaware that she was even there. She was hoping he was alive. She bent forward with both hands on her knees.

"Hello there, sir, are you okay?" Seven-Seven asked, smiling. "My sensors are indicating that you have no ki. Which would logically mean you are dead."

---

One nice thing about traveling light is the fact that that one can basically get up and leave whenever they wanted to needed to, barring any companions that you'd agreed to give a lift that didn't share your morning person tendencies. Another was that one could easily keep all their gear in the locker-room. Such was the case with Otsana as she waited in the women fighter's lockers for the brackets to be announced. There was the constant chatter of conversation and the crowd outside as she listened to music to calm herself. By which she just ranted to herself mentally. "Can't fucking believe they gave me shit over my guns. Every other goddamned fighter here's about ready to skewer someone with a sword or two. And I know for a fact that a few of these guys have rap sheets as long as I am tall." She took another deep breath, and looked at the live feed of the registration line just in time for some girl to deck some guy she couldn't quite ID. "At least I'm not having a day as bad as he did. I wonder if Jonas was caught up in that." @Savo

@Mr Allen J

---

The Russian bombshell entered the lobby with a white fluffy towel, complimentary of the tournament staff. She held her long auburn mane in the towel and rubbed it in a slow attempt to dry it. Under the lobby lamps, her leotard still hugged tightly to her quivering curves. As she clapped by in flip-flops, she heard a few women scoff and the testosterone-induced huffing and puffing of a few males instantly ceased as they watched the magenta-wearing vixen stalk by. She already had her warm-up, if that’s what that match was. Her opponent had barely survived two minutes with her. She found some space where she could stretch and spreading the towel, giving it a single flap before laying it upon the floor. Velvet then stepped onto it, crouching before extending her lengthy legs in a stretch. Her palms were flat upon the floor, chest up in a yoga position, and glutes clenched.

There was so much wasted ki in the lobby with people bickering and growling at each other like animals. When she had passed through it, she hadn’t found who she was looking for. She started to wonder if he would even come. It was still too early in the tournament to tell. If he wasn’t competing, would he be in the stands?

Я не вижу Адама, (I do not see Adam) her hidden comm informed.

Velvet’s blue eyes narrowed in disappointment behind her mask.

Подождите немного дольше. (Wait a little longer)

---

---

Calvin slipped a dollar into a vending machine. It started to drop the bag of chips, but it got stuck in the turning screw mechanism. Calvin sighed, and raised his hand as if to slap the machine. Suddenly, his eye caught a label reading Please no harming the vending machine. Calvin put his hand to his chin for a moment, then slipped another dollar, and bought a second bag of chips. Both bags dropped, and Calvin picked them up.

He then found a seat and popped one open, and started munching. All of a sudden, a girl with brown hair and sportswear appeared next to him. Calvin thought she looked familiar.

"Oh, so you did escape?" She rhetorically asked. "That's fine and dandy, and all, but you almost got me and my friend caught! I hope you're happy."

Calvin held up a gloved finger, asking for a moment, as he finished chewing. He then put the bag down, and cleared his throat. "Oh hey, thats why you look familiar. In my defense, the cops pretty much already saw you. In fact, you might actually owe me, considering I might have saved both of your lives. You know, since they were pointing guns, and I knocked them out. Speaking of, where's your friend?"

Calvin went back to eating.



The Boss drank from a third mug of coffee, courtesy of the tired and stressed Janitor. Suddenly, an alarm started buzzing, and a red light began to flicker. The Boss spat the coffee, right into the side of an unfortunate intern.

"MY EYES!" The poor intern screamed.

"What the hell is that alarm?" The Boss stood up.

"It's a catastrophe, sir!" One of the interns rattled away at his keyboard with the speed to make a machine gun blush. He grabbed a large yellow sponge, and whiped his swamp of a brow.

"Is one of the control functions failing?!"

"Worse! Direct Contact!"

The Visual Feed showed a woman standing crouched over SYM-04, smiling sweetly at him. Already, SYM-04 was slobbering and the feed began to fog up.

"Hello there, sir, are you okay?" The girl said. "My sensors are indicating that you have no ki. Which would logically mean you are dead."

The entire HQ panicked.

"John! Get on that goddamn mic!"

John divebombed towards his station, rolled, and clutched the mic while clearing his throat.

---

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I" Jeremy stuttered, his voice sounding weak. Suddenly, it shot back to a very calm, almost robotic voice, "I am fine. One of the functions of my suit is that it blocks the detection of Ki, through both natural techniques and advanced sciences. My Name is Jeremy." Jeremy's arm bent and turned as it held out to shake the young girls hand.

---

---

---

After talking to the tin-cans, Jaden elected to simply lean up against the wall, and just scope out his competition.

So many people waving around superpowers, and cybernetics, or something. Either way, they were going to end up becoming the jobber for someone waaaaay better than them. It was harsh, but it was life. That's the point of the preliminaries. To weed out the scrubs! Well, Jaden of all people weren't going down like these LO-SAHS! Today was the day he makes his master proud - God bless his soul.

Even though the people in here didn't impress Jaden all that much, there was a woman in here that impressed Jaden in another way. It was a beautiful woman in a purple leotard that displayed her ass perfectly. Definitely wasn't lacking in the chest compartment. Then she did a stretch that displayed her ass. Like hot damn. There was a point where you're overdoing it - but, Jaden knew her strat. It was so obvious that anyone with two braincells to rub together (Which, sadly, wasn't anyone in here).

Walking over to her, Jaden kept on a cocky smile as he crossed his arms.

"Sweetheart," Jaden chuckled, "I know you have a nice ass and all, but if you think you're going to distract anyone important..."

He had to suppress his chuckle.

"... I don't think it's gonna work."

---

---

---

The internal struggle of the strange man in the machine went almost completely unnoticed by Seven-Seven (Her internal systems warned her that something was wrong with the man). Instead, her robotic mind wanted her to ask about this "Jeremy" fellow's robotic suit.

"Oh!? It can block ki? That's incredible!"

Seven-Seven said enthusiastically as she stood straight up. The robotic vixen's eyes lite up with a blue light as she continued.

"It's already an incredible feat of technology to even interact with ki."

She laughed as she asked.

"So, tell me, who built it? I'd like to ask them many questions!"

---

---

---

"My friend is signing up."

Brooke hissed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged her shoulders. Every word that Calvin said annoyed Brooke, but she was going to keep her cool. For the sake of not getting kicked out after all that work, and drawing attention to herself. Besiiiiides, if this Nomad was half as good as her, he wouldn't get his ass kicked in the preliminaries, and Brooke will skin his ass raw in the tournament. So no biggy.

"They pretty much 'already saw me' because you literally lead them straight to us."

She rolled her eyes again as she looked off to the side. She sneered as she said.

"And guns? Just who the hell do you think I am?" Brooke said, as she traced her hands over her muscular abdomen. "I can handle guns... what I can't handle is a price being put on my head, and a million fucks coming after me."

@Mr Allen J

---

Sweetheart…

Velvet turned a blue eye over her shoulder to see a young dark-skinned man.

…I know you have a nice ass and all, but if you think you’re going to distract anyone important…I don’t think it’s gonna work.

Velvet looked forward and leaned to her right side, rolling onto her back. She raised her right leg and grasped the back of her knee, walking her hands up to just beneath her ankle. She folded her leg against her chest, continuing to stretch as her other leg remained extended in the opposite direction. Velvet didn’t seem at all bothered by the young man’s remark. Her glossy red lips curled with amusement as she gazed up at Jaden, resting her cheek against her leg while she cradled it.

“I guess you are not important then,” she said simply.

---

---

"My suit was constructed by the Horizon Frontier. For years they've been working on technology to improve humanity, and this suit is their latest creation, which allows an extremely ill man such as myself to function at an advanced, if not normal, level." SYM-04, explained. He then to the new man wearing a labcoat who walked up.

"Once you answer the attractive gal's question, mind explaining to me how the suit blocks ki? Or rather why someone in a possibly multi-million suit is showing up at this tournament?", The man asked.

"Well, I do not remember the exact details. From what I recall, the suit is made of Titanium; One of the features is within the suit, between the outer layer and inner layer, there exists a magnetic radiator that repels Ki waves. It does not block detection from the outside, persay, but prevents me from being detected."

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Not important. The words ran through Jaden's head.

Ahhhhh, sweetheart here got the ass, but definitely didn't get the brains! Time to inform her a bit.

"Well, you got me there," Jaden started chuckling as he crossed his arms. "Maybe I'm not important now... when I win this tournament, and achieve super stardom, then, well... That goes without saying."

He started laughing as he wiped the side of his mouth, as he leaned up against the wall. Once Jaden's rap career begins, it's smooth sailing from here. He'll have all the bitches, and money in the world. And he definitely wants little mother Russia here to be apart of the former.

"So, I decided to give you an offer; when I hit it big, I'm going to need a team of bad bitches to be dancers in my music videos, and you have everything I need."

Jaden grinned.

"How's that sound?" He looked at her ass again, specifically the tattoo. "I mean... you walk around with that big ol' thing hangin' out, so why not get paid for it?"

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"The Horizon Frontier?"

The computers in Seven-Seven's body went to work almost immediately. Digging up information on them much faster than any computer. Articles upon articles were quickly found and dug through at a lightning speed. Finding articles about distributing prosthetics to those without limbs, and other things to help people. With their motto being "Human Potential." Her innate systems told her that was a slippery slope, but she was going to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, it wasn't her problem.

Another man walked into the conversation - tall, with strawberry blond hair, and rather dashing, reminded her a bit of Justin. She wasn't a stickler for these kinds of things, so she didn't really mind at all when he entered the conversation. She merely smiled and shook her head from left to right.

Though, she couldn't help but be flattered when he called her attractive. If she could blush, she would be, but she showed it in other ways. By holding her mouth open for a moment as she thought about it. Though, he asked a question that Seven-Seven couldn't help but ignore....

"Or rather why someone in a possibly multi-million suit is showing up at this tournament?"

This. This was the question on her mind. Why was he here? Seven-Seven herself was a very expensive piece of technology. She was only here for one thing, and one thing only, to make money so she could figure out just who she was, and what made her.

On the other hand, the man dodged the question... and that was a huge red flag for Seven-Seven. Or perhaps he just forgot. Nobody would be that stupid to be so obvious (especially with one powerful piece of equipment). She turned her head toward Justin, and he was just politely sitting there with his arms crossed. Keeping Seven-Seven in the corner of his eye. She could only smile at him, before turning to her group.

"Well, the Horizon Frontier sounds incredible," Seven-Seven said. "I would love to look into the Frontier, but I share the same sentiment as my friend here."

She probably should had left it alone, but there was something inside of her telling her to press on.

"With such a powerful piece of technology, why are you bringing it to a tournament? Isn't that... irresponsible?" She asked.

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Loudly cracking her knuckles, Brenda was close to making this jackass shut up.

The hard way.

He was annoying as all get out, and insulting her every step of the way. As if she was some idiot off the street. She may possess a different brand of beauty, but she was no pushover, and she definitely wasn't going to let this bastard insult her. While she cracked her knuckles, she kept her eyes on the man and every movement he made.

"No, but it means you've been looking a little too much."

She let her arms fall to a natural position to her sides, but her right fist erupted in flames as it was coated in magma. Brenda stepped to the side, holding her fist up in the air for The One (And onlookers) to see. She was going to make sure that she got her message across that she was not going to take his shit. No matter who this crackpot thinks he is.

"Now, I suggest that you go find a seat, and wait for the tournament like a nice boy, because..." Brenda looked off to the side, recalling what the desk worker told her. "... Otherwise, I'm going to shove that hat up your ass. So when your head follows, you have a nice hat to wear to the hospital."

And she meant that. She was going to break this man a new one. Even if she gets thrown out of the tournament, that just makes things harder.