In the heat of battle, communication between allies could be drowned out not just by the sounds of fighting, but by the distracted attention of the fighters themselves. By a stroke of luck, the stranger in power armor understood Slayer's intentions and approached him to accept his use as a springboard. ”Heave-ho!” Slayer employed just a smidgen of extra strength to send Samus flying up and over. He turned to watch, a thin anticipatory smile on his face, as she provided just the lightshow he'd been hoping for. An overcharged bolt of energy careened into the Demon Lord's head from an unexpected angle, and it didn't stand a chance. From Slayer's perspective, the obliteration of his great foe's gearbox reminded him of an exploding furnace; raw destructive power poured through the openings in his helm like flames through a forge's grate, and an instant later it disintegrated as well. At that point, the battle was as good as won, but the finale wasn't done quite yet. From above, Balor plummeted down to crush Odin's headless torso, and just like a tin soup can being crushed beneath a compactor, it spewed out its noxious juices between its jagged cracks as it crumpled.

From those grievous wounds, however, something else emerged. A writhing black monstrosity—a vile amalgamation of the several detestable vermin that lurched across the ground, burst from Odin's body, leaving only an empty husk behind. Amorphous beings of darkness weren't unknown to Slayer -his experience with Zato-1's Eddie came to mind- but this, above any other, struck him as a wretch of pure corruption. Its hideous shriek caused the gentleman's lips to curl in disgust, but his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as it made a beeline for none other than Luigi. On instinct Slayer tensed into action to help as best he could, but the plumber's lightning-coated fist repelled the noisome abhorrence before it could dig its fangs in, and Slayer gave an admiring ”Hm!”. That display, though, paled in comparison to what came next. The atmosphere itself seemed to change as the Valkyrie Princess jumped into action. ”This...is going to be good.”

And it was.

A few moments later, as the residual light died down, Slayer removed his monocle to polish it against his jacket. Numerous small tears had appeared, though the vampire couldn't say from where, but the garment served just as will to wipe off the dust that Gwendolyn's incredible attack kicked up. ”My, my,” he murmured. ”Such splendor quite boggles the mind. I count myself lucky to have been a spectator, and not a target.” He replaced his monocle, fixed his hair, then placed his hands in his pockets to stand as a quiet, solemn onlooker while Luigi received his brothers soul. No matter how many deaths he'd seen, each one was a new tragedy. Not being privy to the moment that Mario passed did not mean he could not extend his sincerest sympathy. Slayer didn't say anything to Luigi, for what word to encompass this experience, or bring him solace? He told the plumber all he needed with a single look of mournful resolve—that Slayer's heart was with him.

When the moment came, he smiled to Gwendolyn and Oswald as he shrugged and said, ”I have nothing to ask of you. It was my pleasure to be of assistance. I wish you all the very best in your continued fight.” To Luigi, he replied, ”I am well.” Samus turned to him a moment later and registered in Slayer's mind as female for the first time. He managed a flawless recovery and, considering the current situation, gave a pointedly flat-toned reply. ”It was nothing. The rest of you did all the true work.”

Soon after, he and the rest of the heroes left the world of crystalline twilight behind.



The funeral was a weighty affair. Immaculate in black, Slayer paid his respects to the departed. He hadn't known Mario at all, but that mattered not at all. Even with his limited knowledge of the nature of this extradimensional world and all those it linked to, he fully comprehended the role the plumber in red played within it—nothing less than a legend and a hero, and someone like that Slayer did not hesitate to honor.

For the woman named Peach, he mourned his disinclination to shed tears. Luigi wasn't, it seemed, the only one for whom this loss was brutal. With even less ability to help her than Luigi, Slayer opted to not impose himself, and instead wore a morose expression as he listened to the speakers and wondered what came next.

Mario's Funeral

Luigi had stood alone as Toadsworth led the sermon, dressed in a black suit that had been hastily brought for the occasion. While he wasn't crying it was clear from those who saw him that he had been doing so rather recently. Right now, he just felt tired and numb after all the bullshit he had been forced to endure after they had returned from the mission. Everyone seemed to blame him for Mario's death, despite the fact that he hadn't been in charge of Mario's team and had been dealing with completely different issues elsewhere when Mario had died...intelligently he knew that there hadn't been a damn thing that he could have done, but he still couldn't help but ask himself if there was anything he could have done differently if it meant that Mario would still be with them.

He knew that Peach blamed him; She hadn't talked to him once since the news had been broken to her and Luigi couldn't bare to look at the rage that was on her face whenever he dared to glance her way. Maybe if he had been watching his brother's back instead of leading a team of his own, there wouldn't have been a need for a funeral at all.

While he wasn't proud of it, when Guile's had laid into him about how Mario's death had been his fault... Luigi had snapped back. He hadn't meant to but for just that one moment all the pain and sorrow had flared up into an explosion of fury as he had shouted back "I COULDN'T WATCH MY BROTHER'S BACK BECAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY DEALING WITH BRIGAN! YOU REMEMBER, THE BACK STABBING RAT OF A CONTACT THAT YOU SET US UP WITH?!" He didn't know why he did it instead of just taking the berating like he normally would, but right now he was glad that Guile was sitting near the back where he didn't have to look at him.

As far as he was concerned, Brigan was the reason that Mario was dead; Odin might have held the sword as it were, but Brigan was the one that had put them all in that situation to begin with for his own personal gain. One day, he was going to catch up with the General...

Shaking his head, Luigi simply remained were he was, not moving and for the most part unsocial as he stared at the monument silently.

Character: Steve
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Two; Noon
Location: Streets, Save Point, Barrel Roll Pub, Smash Arena
Tag: @Holy Soldier NPCs
Mention: Inn Keeper

After staying the night at the inn to rest and working through the morning as a way to pay her back, Steve headed off through town. He began searching for information on a way to make currency. Once in the bar, he began looking around, asking pretty much anybody if hey knew of a way he could earn some money. Most of the patrons didn't answer him or simply said something about the arena. When he asked for more details, they didn't tell him anything. Some of them just kept repeating the same phrases.

With a sigh, he looked to the bartender. She was a pretty lady but he waited. He caught the waitress and walked with her as she did her job, asking her questions between patron comments and orders. When she didn't tell him too much more than the patrons, he frowned and walked over to the bartender.

"Excuse me," he said, taking a stool, "I need some currency to get by in this strange place. I've been trying to look for any odd jobs people can pay me for but the most I've been getting from people are small comments about this arena nearby. Can you help me out?" He tried hard to keep his eyes towards her face but did steal an occasional glance towards her body, mainly her chest.

Naija had never been to a funeral before and felt rather out of place among the others who had known Mario personally, all dressed up in dark mourning attire and paying their respects to one of the greatest heroes to grace the land. She looked out of place too, her skin gray, her hair and scale made outfit the color of ash and her eyes a flat burning orange, a reflection of the energy that flowed through her veins instead of blood. Whatever mental block had restricted her knowledge of the song necessary to take Energy Form had vanished when the dawn had risen to greet this day of mourning. In a way it was convenient that she had a form the somewhat matched the black attire of the others, even if it made her look like a monster at the same time, because Naija did not have money to buy a suit and was not about to steal to get some.

The ceremony itself had been beautiful and somehow reminiscent of how things had gone on her adventures, learning so much about people after they were dead was par the course for Naija. The difference here was that she had briefly known the man who was being remembered. She managed to get lost in the music and speeches for a while, seeing so much life, a real civilization in the flesh, was enough to distract her for a while. Till the nagging guilt returned.

She sat some way near the back, letting the more deserving sit closer to the front as she stewed as she thought about the events of the previous day, her hands and wings occasionally faintly glowing with a power that rasoe and fell depending on what stage of grief she was currently cycling through. Her mood was not helped by her nervousness around so many people nor the… urges, that this form brought with it. She wanted to break something. Lots of things.

She thought of the debriefing, how Guile had berated Luigi for being to blame for his brothers death, how Luigi had raged back in retaliation about the backstabbing general. She had interjected that She was the one who had been put in-charge of that part of the mission, that Luigi had been on the other side of a mountain range following their contacts plan when Mario had fallen. Then team assignments had come and Naija was relieved to be relieved of command and instead put in the support group on her own. It was almost freeing, no one to command her, no one to command, just her and her wings swooping in to help those in need. She had been quite good at that in the mission itself.

As a distraction she decided too fill in the gaps of her knowledge of those who were left. She had traded words with Samus, Luigi, Hapu and Quina but not with the well dressed Slayer or the armored warrior James. Seeing as she could not see the latter at the moment she approached the soul of Dandy, politely coughing to get his attention as she hovered using her burning wings.

”Hay. Sorry to bother you but you looked like you were a bit like me: kind of feel out of place at this thing and unsure of what to do. That last bit might be me though, never been to one of these before. Never expected to go to one ever really, it's kind of thing I read about in the ruins of Aquaria and never expected to experience first hand. Also I thought it might be a good idea to get introduced to everyone I am going to be supporting now that we aren't rushing headlong into a fight. It’s Naija by the way, in-case this form confused you”

---

Hapu understood the value of family; her venerable grandparents were her models for behavior and speech, and she held a great respect for them. To lose one who you loved, who you looked up to... Hapu could vicariously feel Luigi's pain.

Hapu had not packed black clothing, but suitable formal wear had been provided; a black blouse and skirt, sans her bonnet, which she held in her hands as Toadsworth conducted the procession.

She listened grimly as Guile, in grief and frustration, blamed Luigi for his brother's death... Luigi was assigned to a different team from Mario's, so how could he have known what would happen? She kept silent, for Guile was indeed their superior, though she continued to listen as Luigi lashed out at the American fighter.

Hapu felt that her own performance reflected a little poorly, though perhaps it was based on her limitations... after all, she was merely human, and Pokémon, while powerful creatures, were not gods. Perhaps it would pay for her to be more attentive and offer insight when close-ranged horse kicks would not work. She wished not to reflect poorly upon the world of Pokémon, or on Poni Island, or its sacred Tapu Fini.

Hapu stood next to Luigi, and placed a gloved hand on his. "Luigi, I cannot imagine what kind of pain you are going through right now," she said, looking up at the tall plumber. "You are not, however, to blame for this tragedy. Regardless of strength, of cleverness, there will be tragedies... I do not wish for you to feel that this is your fault. If you would like some counsel after the procession, I am willing to talk with you." She patted Luigi's white glove.

Life isn't fair.

Frisk learned that a long time ago. It wasn't fair that they didn't remember their past beyond falling into the Underground. It wasn't fair that the some of the monsters there tried to kill them. Some of their methods were more than unfair. It wasn't fair that one person, the person who had been suffering the most, couldn't be saved. Frisk supposed it also wasn't fair that they had the ability to turn back time every time they died.

But Frisk had learned that despite how unfair the circumstances are, as long as they remained determined and remained as themselves, then everything will work out in the end. Everything will be okay.

It had seem like ages ago when Frisk freed their friends and family from the Underground. Life had been great, despite the nightmares and worries in regards to certain people. Well...Frisk wouldn't say who. It's not nice to gossip about those who may be there with them. Sooner or later, Frisk heard of Platform City and how there was a call for help to deal with the Mugen Viruses. After informing their adoptive parents, and their friends, they immediately offered to go with them. But Frisk refused. If the nightmares were right, then bringing their friends along would only hurt them.

After talking things out, with adoptive (goat) mom Toriel and Sans being insistent on their part, it was decided that Sans would travel with Frisk, just in case. How could Frisk deny that? Sans was still keeping his promise to Toriel, even if they were out of the Underground.

With their things packed, they headed for Platform City. They just never expected to hear that there was a funeral taking place when they got there. Frisk decided to go to the Funeral. Not just because they were an ambassador from home, but also because it felt like they should pay respects.

So after a night in the Inn, Frisk got dressed in their nicest clothes that they packed: Which is another one of their classic sweater with brown shorts and shoes. In addition to that normal attire to try and look nicer, they added the old pink tutu they found in the Underground. Frisk had considered getting a suit or a dress yesterday, but even with GOLD, they found that the clothes were really expensive. So...Tutu it is!

...Maybe they did look a bit ridiculous, but putting themselves down over it wasn't going to help anything! If anything, hopefully the tutu might get a few chuckles and laughs, which may be needed for everyone there. After taking a look at the clock, they realized that if they didn't hurry, then they were going to be late!

"Sans! I'm heading out. See you later!" Frisk told the skeleton through the door after knocking on the door to his room. They didn't wait for Sans to answer. They figured that Sans would use his 'shortcuts' to catch up with them later.

Frisk dashed through the streets and quickly stopped at the Florist's to buy a bouquet of yellow flowers, much like the ones from home, and stopped to get mushrooms at the grocery store. During their time in the Underground, Frisk learned that when a monster dies, the monster spreads the dusty remains over their favorite item. So logic dictated that for a human funeral, it would also be a good idea to get a favorite item. If Frisk had been to a human funeral before, then they didn't remember it. So after they booked an inn, Frisk called Alphys and she told him that Mario was well known for using mushrooms to power up, so mushrooms must be his favorite thing, right? But mushrooms were good for cooking...were they like monster food that healed people?

So, with a small bag of shiitake mushrooms in hand and a bouquet in the other, they headed for the funeral.

---

Just before they reached the entrance, Frisk stopped to see a Princess with blonde hair and a parasol hiding her face storm out. Frisk watched her walk past. They weren't going to stop the Princess. It was probably best to leave her be. They quietly walked in and looked around. They spotted a large fighter talking to a guy with spiky blonde hair. It did not take long for Frisk to recognize who the blonde hair figure was. There was also another figure walking out and they figured it was best to leave them alone as well.

Oh man! If Alphys and Undyne were here they'd probably freak out and ask him a lot of questions! ...Good thing they weren't here at the funeral though...This was not the place or time to ask. Plus...Frisk had a vague feeling that the warrior probably would assume that Undyne and Alphys were attacking him if they were here.

"Note to self: Ask Cloud Strife for an autograph or two...or three...for Alphys, Undyne, and Papyrus," Frisk thought to themselves. Why Papyrus? The sweet guy of a skeleton just loves being included!

Frisk's attention turned to the tall woman with the white dress and big hat. After hearing her words, Frisk couldn't help but think about what she said with confusion.
"Huh...? Balls...twisted...? Is she talking about those balls that people squeeze when they get angry or stressed? Can they even be twisted...? Even so, what does that have to do with a Princess's cat...or cats?"

While Frisk can be a total flirt, they never really got the Birds and the Bees speech yet.

Deciding to ask a friend later...Frisk shrugged off the questions, and continued forward. They caught sight of a tall figure in a nice suit. It was easy to notice that they had a morose expression. A fish girl with grey scales had approached him and started talking to him.

Then there was, who Frisk guessed, was the family member of the deceased. The man looked similar to the statue. They also saw that a girl around their age was talking to him, and comforting him. Frisk also wanted to say something, but they didn't really know Mario or his family very well enough to say anything. They shuddered as they briefly recalled the nightmares, how they killed everyone of their friends and family without a care. Heck, even laughing! But Frisk quickly shook their head, trying to shake off the nightmares. They never happened. Almost everyone is back home and okay.

When the sermons and stories quieted down and Frisk had a chance, they stepped forward and placed the bouquet and mushrooms at the front with the hat and the jar with red lights, before stepping back and bowing respectfully before going to their seat.

The day seemed to be going as usual for the Guardian of the Master Emerald. Knuckles was running his usual rounds, scouting the area for invaders. The spikes of the Shovel Claw proved useful in making these journies to the peaks of Angel Island even easier. A quick surveyance had shown no one in the nearby vicinity of the island. Already it was becoming late, and the Echnida figured he could fit in a short rest before doing his night patrols. Gathering up some kindling, Knuckles scaled down a bit of the mountain before leaping from its cliff, gliding upon the wind to a nearby cave in the foothills.

That was until something began to bother him. A disturbance. It was coming from the temple, not like that of an intruder, but like there was something wrong with the Emerald itself.

Dashing to the Hidden Palace, Knuckles was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer energy that was radiating out of the Master Emerald's Chamber. In all his years of guarding the mystical gem, he had never felt anything like this from it. It felt as if the Emerald and its connected Chaos Emeralds were pulsating, ready to give off some kind of explosion of energy. Knuckles immediately ran to the Gem, touching it to feel for anything wrong. It was as if his touch was the trigger to the next event.

And with a flash, Knuckles the Echidna could feel himself being pulled away from Angel Island. Far away, like he was being rended from the very presence of time itself. In the fray, Knuckles was left helpless and immobilized as he and the emeralds were spirited away far from their home, and through the event horizon of a wormhole birthed by chaos energy.

Chaos Control? It has to be, but, who could trigger the Emeralds to react like this remotely?

The Guardian was concerned, but on guard as the flash came to an end. Only for Knuckles to find himself suspended in the air, a good 300 meters in the air. He was able to catch a glimpse in the brief second, as the Master Emerald began to crack, and finally shattered, scattering shards in all directions, that jetted off with impossible speed. In seemingly the same second, the 7 Chaos Emeralds began to glow once more, surrounding Knuckles as the let off their energy one last time, the Echidna catching a brief sight of the Chaos Emeralds flying off into the sky as the fragments of the Master Emerald had before them. As if in the next blink of an eye, Knuckles hit the ground hard. Not a fatal fall from the atmosphere, but a gentle thud on a patch of grass. Picking himself up, Knuckles eyed the location in confusion, before noticing something besides him. A garden of sorts, grass, flowers, and a shining sky.

Knuckles picked himself up and got his bearings, straight, looking at what was going on. He had caught sight of something at his side.

A shard of the Master Emerald. The only one to have followed him into the Chaos Warp that saved him from certain doom. Finding the Master Emerald and Chaos Emeralds was now the top priority. He shuddered at the thought of what would happen if these artifacts were to fall into the hands of evil.

Knuckles advanced towards the crowd not to far from him. A funeral of sorts. He approached and listened in. Then a name caught his ear.

Mario

Knuckles didn't know him personally, but he knew that Sonic had a rivalry with him for some time.

The Echidna kept his distance, but took a place at the funeral.

Bartz found himself running around Pixel City, followed by Boko, a chocobo, that suggested to be ridden on instead which denied by Bartz because he knew Boko would go in a frenzy a kick a lot of people in the area with his 'cannot be contained' excitement. He sighed helplessly, trying to find some place he can sit on. Like a chair. Or something. He glanced at Boko, who leaned on him suggestively, not giving up at the offer to be ridden on. Bartz patted the chocobo's head and his hand slid down to it's long feathery neck and continuously stroked it. While stroking the bird's neck and gave it affection, Bartz tried to make Onion Knight's shortsword, his hand in front of him and waiting for the short sword to appear. There was nothing, the sword is not appearing. He tried Vaan's Katana, nothing happened. He tried Squall's Gunblade, nothing happened. He tried Cloud's Buster Sword.. nothing happened. Had he lost his mimicry? He tried to make his own sword appear, with a flash of light-blue at Bartz' palms, the sword appeared. The sword was red with golden arcs on the handle with a green gem decorated between the hilt. He made the sword disappear again after another flash of light-blue and it was gone. Bartz looked up on the sky, eyeing the clouds as he went down for a trip in memory lane.. What happened to the last few days?

Bartz along with the others defeated Chaos, long and tough battle it was, the god of discord was defeated after it's last move of Quo Vadis until he was out of control of his power. Then we were shrouded in blue, yellow, and white glowing light and suddenly been warped to another place with grass, flowers, trees and the sun. The vegetation has restored and so is the world, the Castle Cornelia towering high beyond a lake where the Warrior of Light lives. Suddenly, Every hero started glowing with Tidus disappearing first to be warped back towards it's home world. And here he was warped. Pixel City, outside of his game.. or was it games? Did he warp in the wrong place? Can he go back in Tycoon, be with Lenna and Faris? Tell his stories with his adventures with a Mithra and an Esper? He can't wait, but how wouldn't he.

They arrived at somebody's funeral, found interesting people mourning, It has chairs so.. he sat at the very far back of them all, he doesn't want to be rude but sure he would give his respects, looks like this Mario is a hero, and all heroes are friendlies in Bartz' book. Even he doesn't have any flowers and haven't seen this hero in personal. But it looks like Mario was a legend like those lemmings called him. He shrugged the thought away, sitting comfortably on the chair as his thoughts wander. If he could just copy weapons and abilities, he can fight better. But that would be a problem, he doesn't know anybody here but that guy with yellow distracting hair. Oh wait, that was Cloud! But he looked like he's talking with someone else, plus if he moved towards Cloud, Boko will run to chase me and it will disrupt the mourning people. He looked at the nearest individual he can talk to to ask something, and found a child in a stripey turtleneck. Time to ask questions.

Bartz shushed Boko down and made him stay away and remarks he'll be back in a second, he crept his way towards Frisk, because they're a kid! Kids are easy to talk to. Always easy to talk to. "Uh, hey, kid, uh. Care to answer some questions? I'll whisper it to you, okay?" He asked, winking at the little child and sat beside him and placed a gentle smile. 'Now, who's Mario?' He thought.

James and Charger had agreed, surprisingly, that adding any additional firepower to what was already being flung at the downed Demon Lord was a moot point and simply kept watch from their piece of cover, ignoring the fleeing Brigan for the coward that he was. "For the big bad guy of this world, Odin was a surprisingly disappointing victory. Of course, all the heroes here likely have a hand in making him seem like such a push over." James snorts, reloading the Imago Loop and starting to stand as the oily corruption flowed out of Odin, taking a cautious aim at it.

"I won't complain, a straight forward fight with a big boss is a nice change of pace from the shielding and barriers of Crota and Aksis. That said-" Before the Guardian can finish his sentence, the corruption took form as a worm and he jumped slightly in surprise, firing a couple of wide shots at it to try and save Luigi. The effort proved pointless, however, as Gwendolyn delivered a powerful technique with the aid of her spear. Whistling at the sight of it, James set to making sure everyone was OK after. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we just witnessed a new technique to wield the Light that was hidden from everyone."

Charger materialized and began scanning the area around where the corruption worm had been. "It's something to consider for the future, perhaps speak with Ikora and Zavala about it when we can return to the Tower." Grunting, James finished his rounds and then followed the others back to their ride home, offering Gwendolyn and Oswald a nod of sympathy in passing. Truth be told, true death was a foreign concept to the Guardian, as such a thing was rare for the Wielders of the Traveler's Light.

---

James stood in the back of the procession, away from Guile and his similarly dressed companion, in his more ornate Cloak of the Sixth Reign for the occasion, though he kept his normal appearance for the rest. He hadn't known Mario at all, and he still really had no idea who any of the heroes assembled there to honor him were, but he felt he should be there all the same, especially since he hadn't been able to get the local bar's location out of anyone yet. As he stood, he felt a familiar hand rest on his shoulder, the firm, yet soft grip of a female Titan getting his attention. "Alice. Zavala not think I could handle this alone?"

The womanly chuckle as the violet haired Titan known as The Stalwart stepped up next to her Fireteam mate, her electric blue eyes glowing with hidden power. "Far from the case. He simply thought you'd appreciate the help from someone you know." Nodding, James stepped away from the funeral just as Princess Peach left, leading Alice out of the gardens.

"Can't say the old blowhard is wrong. Apparently a lot of the people we're going to be working with are supposed to be legendary heroes or something. So far? Don't recognize one of 'em from what we've recovered of both Golden Age and pre-Golden Age records. Ikora send you with any new information on them?" Alice shook her head as James lowered his hood and his helmet vanished, his air hanging around his head once more.

"No, but when Iron catches up to me, he may have something." Nodding, the Guardian lead the way to a table with some food a little ways away from the main body of the funeral and went to reply when a red furred creature caught his eye as it took a place amongst those at the Funeral. Frowning, James leaves his friend to get some food and approaches the strange creature, Charger appearing as he sensed the potential disaster about to happen.

And, in classic Hunter fashion, James cut to the point. "'Scuse me pal. Not to sound like I'm trying to insult you, but what in the name of the Traveler are you?"

Lawman LV.1

---

ONE DAY PRIOR
Burgeoning overcast skies hung over Grant City like a filthy woolen carpet. The warm radiance of the sun, taken for granted by so many, was replaced with a grim light filtered down through the brewing storm above them all. Whatever color the city had to show, whatever it had left, was lost in the bleak grey hues cast upon it's glassy towers and dark asphalt roads. Morning had arrived and with it rain began to fall, robbing the air of what little warmth the dim light provided.


On the sidewalks the breath of traveling people became as visible as the exhaust spewing from the backs of passing cars on the road beside them. They moved, packed together much like the cars were, legs falling like pistons with their eyes locked straight ahead as they made their way to work, or their homes, or simply walked because they had nothing else to do. Looking down through the dirty windows of his apartment Jack Slate had trouble telling which were supposed to be the machines.

"Would it kill someone if there was a nice, sunny day in Grant City for once?" Jack muttered as he sat upright in bed, staring outside with half opened eyed still draped in sheets.

"Oh who am I kidding. Of course it would kill someone, everything in Grant City seems to end up with someone dead."

Exhaling deeply Jack slid his feet out of bed and stood, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and arching his back. After producing enough pops to sound like a bowl of breakfast cereal he lumbered over to his dresser and began pulling on clothes. Pants, shirt, boots, holster, the daily routine immediately began to take over.

It wasn’t long before he staggered into the kitchen just several feet from his bed and blindly reached for the coffee pot. Pulling it to his face, expecting to find it full of the warm, dark liquid he’d come to rely on, Jack flipped the lid and tilting his head back as he began to drink straight from the pot.

Cold. Thick. Bitter. Tasting slightly of gristle.

Did coffee normally taste like that?

"Yes." His brain responded sluggishly, firing at half capacity in the groggy morning hours.

Feeling everything was fine Jack's throat swelled as he sucked down gulp after gulp of the black fluid. Once it was gone he deposited the coffee pot on the dining room table just like the responsible adult he was. Was that responsible? He wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure if he cared.

Wiping his mouth on his arm Jack grabbed his jacket off the coat rack next to the fridge, G.C.P.D emblazoned across the back in faded white lettering, and continued walking forward with little thought. He'd reached the door when he stop and as if on auto pilot reached for his badge next to the do-

It wasn’t there.

Jack froze, arm outstretched, and remained there for several seconds.

“Oh right. Probation.” Jack blinked, shaking his head slightly as it all came rushing back to him.

The incident, the shouting match with his superior, the six month probation that he was barely a month into and already losing all lucidity. All of it became clear and as he turned around Jack remembered he had no reason to get out of bed. Hell he didn't even have a reason to leave the house.

"I have no badge. No duties. No responsibilities. Nothing to do and no one who needs me."

Walking back towards the living room the faint creaking of the cheaply varnished floorboards beneath his boots made his apartment seem worrying quiet, even as rain pattered against the window and the noises of the city found their way through the walls. Sitting down on the foot of his bed he reached down to his though and undid the buckle of his holster.

Feeling cold steel and plastic beneath his palm Jack pulled his pistol out and held it in front of his face, finger on the trigger.

They had taken his badge...but they hadn’t taken his gun.

"Are they trying to tell me something?" He thought and began to pull the hammer of the gun back when a noise erupted from the pile of laundry beside him.

"GRRRRRRRRRR" A black and white muzzle rose out of the pile of clothes. Lips curled back and razor white teeth shown, as icy blue eyes dilated in bestial aggression.

"Shadow? What is it boy? Don't tell me now of all days is when you decide to start growling at cars." Jack slowly released the cock of the gun and frown at his monster of a dog as it walked over to the nearby window, continuing to growl.

Tink tink.

The gentle tap of something hard against glass registered in Jack's ears. Turning his head he looked to see the silhouette of something outside the window. The grime prevented him from seeing just exactly what it was so he stood up, raising his pistol.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

Tink tink.

Breathing uneasily Jack wondered if it was a some thug with a grudge on his fire escape...when he realized he didn't have a fire escape. He was on the fifth floor. There was no way someone could be outside his window.

Gun still pointed at the window Jack slowly approached and with one hand, lifted it up. Opening the window to see...a cloud. A smiling cloud hovering outside his window.

Lowering his gun Jack just stared as the cloud moved forward, deposited a letter into his hand, and floated off. Rising up into the rainy day like it was no big deal.

"What...what...what?" Jack just stammered and stared, blinking and shaking his head. Convinced he was either sleeping or had simply snapped. Looking down at the letter, he broke the seal and began to read through it.

Mugen virus.
Call for heroes.
Countless people in danger.
Yes or No?

Jack looked down at the letter. Not sure what to believe or even why the letter would come to him in the first place. He wasn't a hero, he could barely give a parking ticket without it erupting into some kind of hellish gunfight.

Yet the letter made it clear things were bad and were only going to get worse.

"Ah hell. Even if I have gone crazy it'll give me something to do to pass five months. Come on Shadow, we're going on a trip."

"Gruff Aroff!" Shadow yelped as Jack pressed YES on the letter...

---

Jack had arrived in Platform City a day ago. Due to a combination of getting lost and overwhelmed by the strange place he found himself in, he had missed the call for the first mission. In that time someone had died and word of a funeral procession passed by his ear.

Having stuck close to Tetris Castle for the day he'd been in Platform City, Jack quickly made himself scarce and left the grounds entirely. He didn't know who had died, but he knew that he'd been to enough funerals in his life and didn't intent to attend anymore.

As he walked aimlessly through the streets of the strange, color city Shadow padded closely behind him. Whining softly as if sensing the sudden darkening of his mood.

Having no idea where he was going Jack kept turning corners until he saw a place that looked like it sold booze. Pushing open the thick wooden door he was greeted with a bar that didn't immediately smell like despair and cheap whiskey.

Roaring fireplace, casks of (what he assumed was) ale stacked up behind the bar, and the stone and wood construction made the place look old or at least old styled. Not that it bothered jack. Finding a place to drink that was well lit and didn't have fresh blood and vomit stains on the floor was a strangely refreshing event.

Quickly stepping inside, letting Shadow in before closing the door behind him, Jack made his way to the bar and took a seat on the stool farthest from the door. Reaching into his wallet he pulled out a handful of bills and placed them on the counter.

"Do you except foreign currency here? If you do I'd like several glasses of your strongest stuff." Jack said to the bartender as Shadow hopped onto the stool next to him and began licking the bar top.

Just a few stools away from where he was sitting Jack hear a voice asking the bartender questions. The subject of money was brought up and immediately sympathized with the questioner.

"What even is the currency around her-"

Jack turned his head and stopped dead as he saw what he could only recognize as a blocky man (Steve). Unable to take his eyes off what he considered a strange sight Jack continued to stare across the bar at the block-man...

Taric had arrived in platform City at behest of the Protector, the otherworldly being for whom he was an avatar. He alone was the protectors instrument on the world of RuneTerra and Thuse charged with the protection of all that mattered upon it. A full time job to be sure of it which is why it was odd that he had been sent here to the place beyond his world, beyond all worlds, known as Platform City. Whatever was needed to be done here was yet to become clear to Taric, so he had spent his time indulging in his most favorite of pastimes. Finding and looking at cool stuff. The Platform city was a place where all the universes mixed and as a result there was no shortage of wonders to admire, but for the moment he was looking for some breakfast and so headed to the Barrel Roll Pub.

A little after the angular builder and the lawman enter the bar the doors are flung open a third time and it was as if all the stars in hte heavans have entered the room. Or more precisely one very bright star: Taric in is sapphire decorated armor and accompanying floating gemstones all enter dramatically, the morning sun reflecting off of him and them, casting a soft blue glow across the interior. Most of the bar goers dismiss him as a slightly flashier than usual paladin and got back to their morning drinking.

Taric briefly pauses to give a greeting and have a few words with bouncer Gragas. The two men have an equal number of times fought alongside and against one another in the League of Legends. There is a respect between them even if they have not met on their shared homeworld, the brewer completely capable of protecting his own slowly developing perfect brew. Taric hoped he would get to sample it once the drunk had completed his masterwork and that the Protector would make him resilient to the inevitable alcohol poisoning that would result from drinking something that could actually get Gragas drunk. As it was he would make do with the Pandaren Brewmaster’s exquisite concoctions.

He joined Jack and Steve at the bar as the two asked Moxxi the Bartender what the currency was in these parts.

”I imagine gold might be a more acceptable currency than your paper, I believe it is that used in the owner's home world of Azeroth? If the two of you would be willing to join me for breakfast and share tales of what brings you here to Platform city then I would gladly pay for our collective orders.”

The Taric hoped his 500 starting gold would cover the costs, he showed the beautiful bartender some of his currency to see if it was one she would accept. Then he turned specifically to the blocky Steve who appeared to have caught the attention of the dog owning officer as well.

”I have hear tales of your land, where the people raise colossal artworks and structures in hours, where for those of other worlds the same task would take months. I would love to hear more about it if you have the time”

Character: Steve
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Two; Noon
Location: Streets, Save Point, Barrel Roll Pub, Smash Arena
Tag: @Crosswire@DracoLunaris
Mention:

Steve looked at the first man to sit beside him. He had asked Moxxxi what the currency was before seemingly being taken aback at Steve's blocky appearance. Soon after, though, another man joined them, revealing his large number of gold coins. Steve was taken aback by the an's offer and knowledge of his home. "Thank you." he smiled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm new around here and I know nothing outside of my homeland." He took a seat by the man, smiling, wondering what exactly was going to happen. "I heard something about an arena but I don't know anything abour it. It might be a good place for me to start earning money. All I need is some leather and some wood and I can make myself a sword and some armor."

The atmosphere of malaise hung over the assembly after Peach's departure, and in her wake, silence took root and began to grow. Having said all they could, the speakers retired to their seats in the audience. In the quiet, respectful moments that followed, some of the attendees began to drift away. By all accounts, the ceremony had finished; when the guests could well up no more tears, think up no more words, and spare no more minutes to the heavy affair, they went their separate ways. After a short while, Slayer concluded that he'd been present long enough. It did not do to dwell on death, after all.

As he stood, he regarded the table of memories one last time whilst hoping that Mario's soul hastened off to a better place faster still than the funeral attendees returned to their own affairs, and spotted an unfamiliar child headed there. Garbed in outlandish, garish clothes that seemed fit to make a mockery of this dignified assembly, the kid drew Slayer's ire, but he watched a moment longer before passing judgment. Before his eyes, the child placed a bouquet of flowers and a bag of what appeared to be mushrooms among the other gifts and memoirs. For a moment the vampire was nonchalant, but he broke down into a smile as gave a slight shake his head toward the ground. ”An immature mind but a good heart. I wonder...such a colorful character must surely be a hero, perhaps called in to replace those who abandoned us in the twilight forest, but at such a young age...” While Slayer ruminated, he seemingly did not notice Naija approaching him until she gave away her presence with a light cough.

He turned halfway, looking over his shoulder to see who it was. Though once again sporting an altered appearance, the gentleman recognized Naija from her introduction the previous day. She did not, it appeared, have much of an attachment to the idea of a consistent appearance. Then again, she had given off the impression of an adaptable heroine, willing to make a sacrifice and alter her body to better do what's right. In a roundabout way, Slayer could appreciate that brand of naivety. He, meanwhile, would not be so eager to experiment with changing himself using elements from other worlds. After witnessing Odin's monstrous transformation, playing riskily with the living, mutagenic corruption known as the Mugen Virus seemed downright foolish. If it worked for Naija, however, he wouldn't hesitate to applaud her courage, so long as she remained free of evil's taint. These thoughts passed as quickly as an autumn breeze, and Slayer pivoted around the rest of the way to face her.

As she spoke, he strode away from the funeral site at a leisurely pace, not just for his own sake. Taking flight at a funeral stood out to him as a somewhat selfish act—hogging the spotlight. If Naija didn't understand she was being rude, he couldn't blame her, but all the same he attempted to steer her in a different direction. Once at a suitable distance, he fell backward into a sitting position, and before he could hit the ground his cape morphed into a winged chair that carried him upward so that he might converse with Naija eye-to-eye. ”Not at all, I could tell it was you. I hope you don't mind me rising to the occasion? I happen to have a touch of distaste for being looked down upon.” He produced his pipe and puffed it once, a knowing look in his eyes and an easy smile on his face. ”I recall you from the meeting yesterday, with your interesting philosophies about heroism. I kept quiet at the time, but for the record I do believe it hinges upon what actions one takes, not one's own views or others' views. It does bemuse me as to why I was chosen for this ordeal, and not the hero of my 'world'. I can only assume it was because of how much free time I had!” Slayer chuckled through his nose. ”In any case, I assure you I did not feel awkward or misplaced in the silence. A consummate gentleman, as I'm sure you're aware, takes any situation in stride, faultless in his bearing. Enough about me, however. Perhaps you'd like to tell me more of yourself? If I'm going to be gallivanting around for much longer, I should like to become better acquainted with my allies.”

His focus slipped off the fishwoman and onto a bizarre bipedal red creature that had taken up a position not too far away. He also identified the technological soldier who'd hung around the backlines in the last battle, who Slayer now knew to be named Varrock. The man sauntered up to the animal, who did not appear to be any trouble, and demanded not just who but what it was. The audacity of the inquiry provoked a wry hmph from the vampire, and he motioned with his head as he remarked to Naija, ”It would appear that our reluctant compatriot is taking the chance to mingle as well, though he seems to have opted for a rather abrasive approach. Perhaps he hasn't quite grasped that anyone around here is an ally, and should be treated appropriately?”

Their enemy revealed itself in true form as Balor forcefully descended onto the Demon Lord, evicting the parasitic culprit from its stolen shell through the opening created from the false king’s head by Samus. A look of shock marked Fox’s face at the sight of what appeared as if it could pass for Samus’s casual boss fair (not that he would really know). The eldritch horror burst forth unsuspectingly into the furious, vengeful hand of the bereaved brother before Fox could think to raise his weapon. Luigi’s fist met the foul creature’s head with a violent, thunderous crack accompanied by the vibrant flash of lightning that lit up the battlefield, bathing all the adjoining area in its mighty glow. The abomination lied on its back helpless to retaliate or resist when Gwendolyn sent down her mystical polearm for a glorious finishing blow to encase everything in its blinding brilliance. Fox raised both arms to shield his eyes from the imposing display of pure white that overtook his vision. Seconds later, the light faded, and momentary silence prevailed. The dispersal of violet energy from where Odin once laid signified the battle’s end. It was over, and they had won.

Fox lowered his weapon and let out a tired sigh upon being granted a moment of respite. Just in time too, as his injuries were starting to nag at him again. He had his left hand pressed against his side as the green plumber came rushing his way with healing sustenance similar to what he himself had used earlier. Fox holstered his blaster and held out his now free hand to accept the offering with a nod of appreciation. He gave the odd hybrid fruit a brief once over before biting into it. A soft crunch could be heard as the first half immediately disappeared behind a row of sharp, almost menacing fangs, and the second half quickly followed. He didn’t know how, but he felt his injuries suddenly go away on their own. Physically, he felt better, but morale? Given the circumstances, that was going to be a harder fix.

Fox turned his attention to the others to see two loosely related projections of sorrow, both in the form of sympathetic embrace. He despondently hung his head at the piteous sight as he knelt down to lightly bury the napple seed into ground where he stood before walking away; a fruit bearing tree spawning behind him in its place. He took his place alongside the others as the princess and knight expressed how grateful they were for the aid lended. He waited for everyone else to break off before saying his piece.

“We’re just doing our parts,” he reassured kindly, “but the offer’s appreciated.” He was almost able to manage an honest smile with the casual reciprocation of gratitude, but his tone noticeably lowered when looking back at Luigi and the rest of his teammates as they made their leave before turning back to the other two.

“I’m sorry about your father, Princess,” a condolence he was actually ready to extend without feeling sick. “Believe me, I know what it’s like.” Without intending to, the pilot spoke only half true. While he, too, lost his father to treachery at a young age, patricide - necessary or not - played no part in it. Such was a feeling he couldn’t even begin to fathom, let alone live with. Though, if the horror he had bore witness to not but a few minutes prior was any indication, the real Odin was gone long before they arrived. His expression subtly returned from that of emotional weariness to his cooly assertive default.

“No disrespect,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “but the way I see it, this is our battle; one that we share in, one way or the other. We’ve all lost something here today, and we’ll both need all the help we can spare each other to see to it that it doesn’t take anyone else,” he explained before looking back over his departing squadmates. “Because that’s the only way we’ll beat this…” He paused, watching Samus and Slayer exchange unheard compliments and friendly gestures to one another while they made their way through the golden-white rift that marked their exit. “Together.”

The last of the remaining squad was on their way out, and Fox wasn’t set on keeping them waiting. He would shortly be right behind them, but not without making a characteristically resolute promise.

“That’s our leave. Best of luck with your affairs here.” He turned to make his way to the portal back to Tetris as he continued to speak. “If you ever need us again, you’ll know where to look, so when the time comes, don’t hesitate. We’ll be here…” finishing just before the gate could close behind him, “and we’ll be ready.”

---

It almost goes without saying that Guile had been somewhat displeased with the heroes’ overall performance, critical of the lapses and discrepancies in their teamwork. As criticism goes, it was certainly more fair than placing blame for Mario’s death on his little brother, who was in no position to do anything about it at the time. Luigi was quick to remind him of that fact with explosive retort, throwing part of the blame back at the gruff armyman for setting them up with a shady contact. Given that Fox had lost kin in similar fashion thanks to Pigma, it sufficed little to say that he had no compassion or sympathy for traitors. He quickly grew tired of the circulation of demoralizing negativity that went on without end from the second they completed their mission, with nary a minute to catch their breath, and he was almost ready to step in with his own objections. Thankfully, Naija beat him to it. She went about it better than he probably would have, so it was good that she spoke up when she did.

Having moved past the issue, the meeting moved forward with the assignment of individual ranks for squad placement, followed by the subsequent adjournment of the debriefing. Fox thought little of being the sole member to be placed in Delta, for where some might have considered it a bragging right, he saw it for what it really was: a greater, more daunting responsibility. The Major caught him just before he could leave to advise that he take up hard training for the coming days to keep himself sharp, as it would probably be some time before he saw his next mission.

“Understood,” he proclaimed with a nod. He spun on his heel to resume his pace until he stopped himself mid-stride. “If I may, I’d also like to vouch for Luigi. There was nothing he could have done on his end, and I don’t expect he would have let his brother go on without him if he thought he was in any danger. None of us saw it coming. I only ask that you don’t hold it against him.” The pilot calmly spoke his mind to the councilman with all due respect, who simply took his appeal under advisement before promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, Major,” he replied coldly as he saw himself out. Next on his agenda was to find rest wherever he could most conveniently do so while there was still time to have it. With the long day they just had, and the long morrow set before them, he was going to need all the sleep he could get.

---

As was the case with about half of the team, Fox found his own place at the back to the right, standing isolated from the rest of the group. Foregoing the formal black attire, he instead donned a washed out white long coat not much unlike his previous flight jacket that it had been hurriedly, but expertly tailored together in a day’s time to replace. White was also a color of mourning and passing, depending on who you asked, so it wasn’t so inappropriate or out of place that it would be liable to cause a fuss. At the very least he didn’t roll his sleeves or wear his headset, but other than that, everything else underneath was virtually the same; weaponry included.

Princess Zelda herself was kind enough to attend, sending up a prayer to whoever Hyrule’s deities were to officiate the ceremony. Toadsworth delivered the sermon, visitors in mourning from all over The System paid their respects, and then they all left for the reception. It was something of an unexpectedly short, simple, bittersweet affair, but none of it could coax a single drop from the vulpine’s heavy eyes. Surprisingly, and disconcertingly, the same could be said of Princess Peach. It was hard to tell exactly what she was feeling, but all the same, it couldn’t have been anything close to well.

Fox slowly made his way opposite the exodus of attendees, not a single eye on him as he passed through. He didn’t so much as utter a syllable to the grieving younger brother as he opted to occupy the space next to Luigi. He thought the better of crowding him with further consolation so soon, as he had already been getting more of that attention than he probably wanted. He instead allowed the ambient whistling of the air to naturally fill the gaps in audio stimuli, along with the accompanying flurries of sakura petals to visually complement it. All things considered, it brought a much needed sense of serenity to an otherwise disconsolate scene.

Fox stood in silent contemplation before the memorial site with his hands pocketed in his new jacket - its ends swaying gently forward in the wind, parted by the saddle split that had been cut to make room for his tail. He couldn’t help gazing forlornly at the epitaph and the contents placed about it, trying to discern each and every one of them. All manner of token offerings to the departed lay neatly assorted around his hat and essence: fire and ice flowers, cape feathers, coins, a golden trophy of an Olympian Bear, and other various power-ups, trinkets, and collectibles from his own world and others that would sadly be of no use to him now.

Suddenly, a random child sporting a tutu and sweater showed up to offer more to the pile, having apparently taken to the more conventional definition of mushrooms and flowers to gift to the fallen. Regardless, Mario would have understood and perhaps appreciated the gesture. Fox paid no mind to the kid as they came and went, but even at a glance, something about them registered as… strangely familiar. He would spare the notion no thought, though, for the families visibly affected by the loss here only brought to mind the one other thing that mattered most to him: his own family, and everything that’s at stake.

While Slayer walked away and then drifted up to where she was currently hovering and Naija considered the implications on the phrase “being looked down upon”, height had about the same meaning underwater as compass positions did on land, generally important only geographically. In the local situation there was nothing stopping you from swimming up to the level of the other as Slayer did now. Considering how awkward it had been to look up at everyone in her crouching position when she was land locked she supposed being higher than others was important, showing off how much you were beating gravity and lording it over others. In hindsight her flying over the various chairs and guest was might have been seen as rude and Naija blushed at her unintended offence. Or more specifically her cheeks glowed, a result of her energy blood.

”sorry about the height thing, I’ll try to stay eye level with people from now on”

That said she descended to the ground, hoping Slayer would follow so they could both hover at a more socially acceptable altitude. The man himself informed her that he was rather inflatable in this and all situations, as a Gentleman should be.

”I didn’t actually know those were things that gentleman did, I’ve never met one before. It was in just me then, there are so very few people in left in Aquaria, so I am not used to being around so many of them. I feel like since yesterday the universe is attempting to make up for lost time, yesterdays mission was already people than I had ever seen and now this… it’s a lot to take in. ”

Naija had yet to venture outside the castle walls, so the universe still had plenty of opportunities to one up itself in that department. Naija was finding the man rather likable, his vocabulary and manner of speaking were certainly interesting, his relaxed attitude rather soothing, though she wondered why he did not consider himself a hero? As for her to talk about herself, she considered for a moment.

”I am ” the power of the dead energy god urged her to say warrior, destroyer, killer, slaughter “an adventurer i suppose. When I was home I explored every nook and cranny of Aquaria, which is a sea by the way, no matter the danger and once the ceremony is done I intend to do the same here in Platform city. I also intend to do some cooking so we have some verse infused meals for the next mission, which would be better than growing healing items on location. I hope there's a lake or ocean nearby so I can go hunting for ingredients. If you're interested in abilities that I use when we are fighting together I have a bunch of forms, most of which I haven't got access to yet. This one for firing homing energy blasts, beast from for biting, eating and then using enemy's projectile attacks, nature for raising thorn barriers and launching myself using them, sun for blinding light and so on. I would also offer lifts as well but it looks like you got flying stuff covered with your chair there”

The two of them watched Varrock’s attempts of socializing with the newly appeared red furry person with some interest. He was certainly much more straightforward in his approach than she had been approaching someone and Slayers comments made the whole thing rather amusing to view.

A brief glance over the funeral now in the distance showed a small child even less appropriately dressed than Naija, though they had also brought offerings. Perhaps she should have done the same, though she had little of worth with on her person after her rapid departure from her imprisonment. There had been musical performances, perhaps she could have offered a song? A thought for later, for now she turned back to the slayer.

”So why do you not think your a Hero? You must have done some good to be trusted with this fight of ours, even if it might have been for selfish reasons like my achievements where.”

Frisk looked around after they sat down and they immediately noticed that the big guy in the suit was now flying...in a cloth chair? He was speaking with the fish girl who was also flying. Frisk watched them leave in awe as they seemed to be busy with their own discussion. Frisk glanced over to Cloud and the big guy with the tall woman and noticed that they were still talking with each other. There was a man talking to...a red hedgehog? Frisk could tell that the man wasn't exactly being too friendly about it. They hoped that there wouldn't be a fight here...

Frisk jumped a little when they heard a voice next to them, and the looked to see that it was another person. They were definitely older than they were, but not too old. Frisk nodded after the guy spoke to them, and answered with a slight smile, keeping their voice at a reasonable indoor tone, "Sure. But I think it's safe to talk. The ceremony seems to be done. What's up?"

Frisk did think to keep an eye on the confrontation nearby, just in case a fight broke out and Frisk needed to stop it. Hopefully their experience as an ambassador would help with that. In the meantime, Frisk looked to Bartz, waiting for him to ask.

---

"WHAAAAT?! Risky Boots is missing?!"
Shantae couldn't believe what the letter read, let alone that this was a cry for help from the Tinkerbat that stood in front of her, Bolo, Sky, and Uncle Mimic. The Tinkerbat nodded silently, seeming unaware that Shantae had asked her question more out of rhetorical shock than anything else. She could hear her friends and family voice their shock and skepticism,
"Woah! Seriously?!"
"I don't know Shantae...I wouldn't put it past Risky if this was some kind of trap, or if there was some elaborate plan going on,"
"Sky's right, Shantae. Risky may be up to something..."

Shantae turned to face her friends and uncle, and she commented, "Still, this is something worth investigating! If Risky really is in some kind of trouble, then I should help. And if this is a trap, then it might be better to stop her wherever she is, then just leave her be and risk putting Sequin Land in trouble," She also wondered to herself as to why the Tinkerbats were asking for help and didn't seem to know where Risky Boots was. If there really was a trap, why were they left in the dark? The old Pirate Captain was defeated a while ago, and so his curse over the Tinkerbats and Risky's items was lifted.

Shantae snapped out of her thoughts when the Tinkerbat ran out and another creature on a cloud appeared with a note. Shantae took a look at the note and she told her friends after reading it, "A call for heroes to deal with the Mugen Virus? Why do I get the feeling that this is connected to Risky Boots' disappearance?"

However Shantae did realize that if she left Scuttle Town in order to pursue this, then she might get fired from the position of Guardian Genie...Again....

The thought must have been obvious on Shantae's face, because Sky seemed to notice and she spoke up, "Hey, leave Scuttle Town and Mayor Scuttlebutt to us, Shantae. We'll make sure everything's okay here while you go investigate,"

Shantae smiled at her friends as she answered, "Thank you, you guys! I'll be back before you know it!" She then pointed to the yes option and she was teleported to Platform City.

---

A day after Shantae answered the call for help, she found herself wandering through the town. She groaned to herself, "Ugh...I should have asked for directions on where heroes are supposed to go," She perked up as she told herself, "Well, I guess this is a good opportunity for me to look around and see if anyone's seen her,"

She wandered through the streets, until eventually, she found the Barrel Roll Pub. She ruminated "A pub! Pirates usually like going to places like these! Maybe someone saw her here?" She didn't hesitate to enter the pub, and she looked around the room as she walked in.

There were three customers, one of whom was noticeably...blocky. She couldn't help wince as she thought, "Yikes! Did he read a Mummy's Curse out loud? It looks he got a really bad one! Well, at least he's still alive..." She then took a look at the other two. One looked pretty gaudy with the large amount of crystals around him and sapphire armor. All of which were reflecting sunlight back into her eyes. Well, at least he's going to make some girl happy that's for sure. The last of the customers seemed to be normal out of the three of them despite the foreign clothes to her. Nothing much to note except for the dog that was on the stool next to his.

She walked forwards, and took a seat, at the bar hoping to ask the bartender some questions first before talking to the customers.

Bartz started looked around for any possible eavesdroppers or a goblin or a moogle or spiderman hanging upside down or johnny with the axe or someone nearby that can hear them and totally make a ruckus or something he doesn't want to happen now that he don't really know ho Mario is. 'Whatever, won't get any answers by stalling and waiting something to happen anyway.'. He snuck a glance at Boko, who gave him a confused look that can also be compared that the big yellow bird looked surprised, it squawked at Bartz for attention, and Bartz flinched at Boko's afflicted noise like it was a shotgun blast outta nowhere, making the tall man a bit mortified. Bartz raised his hand and gave the bird a shushing finger, then glared at the yellow bird, which glared back playfully, rolling his eyes he looked back at Frisk, then smiled at the kid. Bartz' forehead started sweating.

" As I was saying, I wanted to ask you for uh, ... Who's Mario?" His voice was barely above a whisper for the last part. Bartz expectedly waited for the kid to answer in a big 'WHAT?'. He quickly left and right then looked back at Frisk. Before the kid even say anything Bartz leaned back on his chair in panic and anxiousness. His face was frozen in a sheepish smile with a few nervous chuckles and his brown eyes started travelling practically everywhere."N-Not that I don't know him, or a-anything. It was just because I heard of him and he was cool with a hammer and all and I am at his funeral doesn't mean I just wanna sit around because I'm tired of walking and I can't find a chair or something to sit around to and I found these chairs and I got curious-" Bartz stopped his rant when he realized he was giving much of his weight on one side of the chair, making it tilt and crash to ground with Bartz still on it.

With a loud thud, Bartz have toppled the whole chair over, and Bartz was down there petrified, his eyes wide in mortification and he expected to be yelled at and be pierced with cold glares. Bartz shuddered, placing his palm on the ground and pushing himself up in a very quick motion, his face tells he was very nervous by now and he quickly lifted the chair and placed it on the ground and sat on it, staring at the crowd. " Gotta show off a little, right?" Bartz muttered, grinning sarcastically. "I really overdid it.." He muttered to himself once more. As he was constantly glancing at the crowd, his eyes suddenly trained on Frisk and remembered he asked something and have done something very disrespecting. " Uh, sorry about that, it was kinda windy today. He lied and he knows it was obvious, he still gave Frisk a big smile.

Lawman LV.1

---

"Gold? Well shit, I'm glad I didn't try to exchange my money back at the castle then. I'd feel worse about my paycheck then I already do."

Grabbing the wad of paper bills he'd dropped on the bar top, Jack shoved them back into his wallet with a defeated sigh. He turned his head to look to the stranger who'd answered his question and was taken aback. While the square bodied miner just a few seats away was still the strangest thing Jack had seen since waking up, the individual who'd strolled into the bar was the second strangest thing by just a small margin.

With open shirt, hair like a bolt of brown silk, and large gems casually orbiting him, the man looked like a jewelry display had come to life and spent it's days alternating between pumping iron at the gym and going to a fashion salon. Jack was by no means a slouch when it came to physical fitness. Boxing, lifting weights, and simply fist fighting had left his arms and chest muscles as toned as they were going to get.

Yet seeing Taric's smooth washboard stomach and almost herculean physique on display through his somewhat foppish attire left Jack feeling somewhat insecure. Just as Jack began to wonder if his own clothes left him over or somehow overdressed for the occasion the gem man's words derailed his train of thought.

"If you're offering to pay for food and drinks, then I'll join you for breakfast seeing as it's obvious I'm quite broke in this world. The least I can do is tell you my name and why I'm here, but it's not exactly a colorful story."

Standing up from his bar stool Jack walked down the line and took a seat closer to Steve and Taric with Shadow padding up behind him, taking the stool beside him like he had when they arrived.

"My name's Jack. Jack Slate. Officer, or former officer, of the Grant Central Police Department. This here is Shadow."

Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the hulking black and white dog next to him. Shadow's tongue hung out of his black lips as he panted, occasionally licking the rows of sword sharp blood stained teeth that filled his mouth. The mention of his name drew his icy-blue eyes to his master, then to Taric, and briefly to Steve. For a moment Shadow almost seemed to pause in thought on the presence of the strangers before lifting his leg and craning his neck downwards to begin licking his groin.

"As for why I'm here in Platform City, well I got a letter. A letter from...a cloud. A cloud with a smiling face that showed up outside my apartment window. The letter it dropped off said something about a Mugen Virus, people in need, and a call for heroes. I'm not hero but I circled yes on the letter and ended up here."

Jack shook his head, smiling as he spoke.

"Honestly when I say it out loud it's crazy. Yet here I am! I spent the day up at Tetris Castle. Heard they were having a funeral so I split and wandered in here to drink. What about you two?"

Looking to the blocky miner Jack grimaced at the mention of an arena. His mind immediately went to the arenas he was familiar with. Illegal dens of deceit and blood sports where men would die and others would profit from their blood. However he stopped himself from making any assumptions. Given his company the 'arena' could have been anything.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard anything about an arena myself, but if you're looking for wood and leather try finding an old sofa. Even in a city like this someone's bound to throw their old furniture into an alleyway or out onto the curb."

Character: Steve
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Two; Noon
Location: Barrel Roll Pub
Tag: @Crosswire@DracoLunaris@Guardian Angel Haruki
Mention: @Holy Soldier's NPCs

Steve smiled at the pair of men, listening to their answers. He noticed a girl walk in and thought she might have some answers too. Or maybe she's looking for answers? Once Jack finished with his story, Steve nodded. "A letter from a cloud? I don't remember how I got here. However, that pretty girl over there looks like she needs help." With no more words, Steve stood and approached the girl. "Hey. I'm Steve. You new in town or do you already know what's going on?" He motioned for her to have a seat with them, smiling. "These guys started answering my questions. Maybe they can answer yours too. What's your name?"

Naija's apology evoked a subtle expression of gladness from her conversational partner. While Slayer's methods of nudging younger generations into embracing proper manners most often fell short, this unusual individual seemed to catch on to what he'd been hinting at. She was not, the vampire was gratified to understand, dense in the way so many would-be heroes were. Too often he'd found that righteousness became a platform on which to elevate oneself, and not an elusive, all-abiding goal that anyone professing to be noble of intention should work toward. Now, however, he and Naija hovered eye-to-eye, and he listened with muted astonishment as she admitted to never having met a gentleman before. What misfortune! He could sympathize with her feeling of being overwhelmed by all this newness, however. Forget monsters and mayhem: sudden change was what harangued the soul most critically, especially for an old soul like his. With one elbow perched upon the armrest of his cape-chair, and its fist rested against his cheek, he absorbed her story.

In particular, the description of her abilities, unrequested but helpfully offered nonetheless, caught his attention. She spoke of all these forms in a casual manner, as if they were her innate forms, but until now she hadn't shown off any of them. Slayer perceived that she -and by extension all the heroes- must be under the influence of some sort of limitation in the same manner he'd believed only himself to be. Ever since his fond farewell to Sharon and the abrupt teleportation from the world he'd left behind, he'd felt a sort of cloud lingering in the back of his mind. It didn't interfere with his mental faculties as far as he could tell, but when he thought of several of his pugilistic techniques, their performance seemed somehow beyond his grasp. It was a puzzling and perturbing problem, given his worryingly decreased durability, but not one a dandy should obsess over. Slayer did withdraw from his inner musings enough to chuckle when Naija mentioned flying. ”Not so much, I'm afraid. My mantle is useful, to be sure, but this shape is so slow and fickle that it's of no use in combat, save to spare me the effort of crouching.”

His lighthearted tone wavered ever so slightly when his acquaintance asked why he didn't consider himself a hero, for he felt that it might warrant a serious response. Then again, it wasn't a terribly serious matter. If it was, he would have minded sharing it with a stranger. ”My position is somewhat difficult to articulate. I suppose that I am an entity outside of my world; its trials and tribulations do not concern me. Even as the real heroes went about their business trying to resolve its ills and improve things for themselves and normal people, I barely lifted a finger. I did enjoy giving guidance to the heroes when they needed it, helping them out of tough spots and invigorating their resolve when it was shaken. All in all, I suppose my role would be more befitting of a connoisseur—looking around and taking in what life has to offer, but not involving myself in conflicts. I am an old man, after all, in a young man's world. It wasn't my world to change.”

There! Sometimes Slayer surprised himself with how elegantly he could wax poetic. Such a response surely satisfied Naija's curiosity, and with any luck she would not feel the need to inquire why his world's events didn't concern him. If she asked, of course, he could lie, but untruths besmirched a gentleman's lips. To change the subject, he glanced around for material, but nothing much had changed since his last scan.