To have tried to catch the grenade, as it had seemed the gentleman had tried to do, was a mistake that James had made in his first Crucible match when a Voidwalker had thrown a Scatter Grenade at him. He had hoped that batting it away or even throwing it back would delay the split, but one explodey death later as well as a reprimand from Charger had him dodging any grenade that came his way rather than stupidly trying to return them to their sender. He hoped that should he and the gentleman square off for any future spars, he'd remember the lesson he'd just learned about Light generated grenades. All the same, the sudden appearance of the strange gentleman, who James began to suspect there was more to than met the eye, caused the Nightstalker to backpedal in surprise and instinct demand he fire off a pair of shots in response.

If he were honest, it was almost like fighting against a Fallen Captain, with their ability to teleport in any direction they wish unexpectedly. Still, as the flame covered fist flew at his chin, James remained confident in his shielding's ability to handle the single melee blow and gave his own blow in return, an elbow aimed at his gut followed up by a quick slash from his knife. Truth be told, the he used the Imago Loop as more of a defensive tool when in close range, but he wasn't sure of it's ability to survive a blow from a supernatural force, nevermind the lecture Banshee would give him for destroying the hand cannon again.

Shantae was lucky, in a way, that she didn't have any other tricks to pull on Isaac. All she could do as he feinted a slash towards her chest was to dodge out of the way. Okay, so maybe she was a little too quick on the draw when it came to trying to disarm him, but she can always find another opening later on, and if worst comes to worst, she can tag Bartz in. The sword was clearly noticeable in his hand. She never stopped moving as she quickly studied him (her hair constantly moving and making it hard to target), bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. There was also nothing around her that she could use to her advantage, so she would have to rely on where she landed her attacks.

She stayed close to her end of the ring just in case, before she taunted Isaac a little bit, "Now, now! Can't give away more of my dance just yet," She then decided to go for a couple more attacks. She aimed a feint towards his hand, knowing that he would probably be a bit more guarded there, but aimed the two real attacks towards his ankles, in hopes of not only dealing damage, but also tripping him up and giving her more of an advantage. If one attack to his hand managed to delay his unsheathing of the sword, then a successful attack to the ankles might be of great help.

The same strength that rocked one of Erion's castles, sent Samus sky-high, and knocked the chip off a giant's shoulder cannoned into James' helmet uncontested. Rather than attempt to intercept the blow, the soldier threw out an elbow as a repartee, but the speed and reach of Slayer's arm meant that he'd more than likely connect first. The full force of Slayer's Pile Bunker -powered by strength more than twice as great as the Nightstalker's defense- would almost certainly connect during James' attempted counterattack, resulting in a Counter Hit while preventing the shorter-ranged attack from reaching, and lead into a wallbounce against the arena fence. That is, if the gentleman's memory served. Still, a nagging suspicion throbbed in the backmost reaches of his mind. Under normal circumstances, Slayer was in absolute control of situations like these, making confidence a complete non-issue. Since leaving his own world, however, the vampire had come to grips with things being rather different. This exchange would be over in but an instant, and in his moment of lucidity following his strike, Slayer felt more curious than anything.

The blow connected with James's helmet, just like he knew it would, and his shield had something of a shattering effect as it went down. However, what he hadn't expected was that the blow would manage to send him sliding back several feet despite the interference of the shielding, causing him to completely stop the follow up slash with his knife and dive to the right, firing three shots from the Imago Loop to force the gentleman, who was now confirmably something more than human, to reconsider a direct follow up.

While he was moving and reloading, Charger was figuring out what had happened. "That was rather out of character for our shielding. Usually we don't get knocked around like that unless it's already dropped. Perhaps we should spend more time looking at interactions between universes when we're done here." James grunted an affirmative, keeping both knife and hand cannon at the ready as the Night Stalker fired a burst of six shots at the gentleman, testing his reflexes and his ability to close the gap.

Yesterday, the failure of a counterhit Pile Bunker to lead into wallbounce might have thrown Slayer for a loop, but already he was beginning to expect the unexpected. Instead the blistering strike forced James a few feet away, and like any good zoner the soldier took the opportunity to put some distance between himself and his opponent. This was not an unanticipated move, and the moment he discerned the anomaly in his technique, Slayer started to walk forward. From the sound and tactile sensation of breaking, he assumed that his foe employed some variety of invisible energy shield. He was not allowed long to ponder, however, for James' evasive roll transitioned into a sudden three-shot burst from his pistol.

A human could not react to gunfire quickly enough to dodge. Such a feat simply did not lie within the purview of human abilities. Even Slayer could not slip out of the way of James' first shot, which being more of a warning shot than a murder attempt given his roll maneuver, grazed his rib and tore his suit. A spatter of blood hit the packed dirt ground, and as he teleported forward once again to avoid the remaining bullets, Slayer laughed. “Not bad!” Though his classy monocle, his keen eye caught James trying to reload. Even with a lifetime of practice, the nightstalker could only reload so fast, giving Slayer a chance to leap up for a jump-in attack. “But not good enough!” Leaning forward in midair, the vampire thrust his hands forward with the fingers extended, like a cat punching with its claws out. As luck would have it, James continued to move, and in accordance Slayer's strike whiffed. Another six-round burst blasted his way,but this time Slayer was ready. He crouched -which was to say, he morphed his cape into a chair and seated himself- and with his pipe blew out a small barrier of smoke to destroy the bullets in their tracks. Some energetic shrapnel got through, mussing the gentleman's 'do somewhat and putting a few small cuts into his face and shoulders. His eyebrows furrowed as a drop of blood ran down his cheek. “Muh...my hair!”

Indignation did not mean wasted time, as James would soon find out. Standing up and deforming his cape with surprising speed, Slayer moved in on the man who he knew was out of bullets. “Now then...withstand this!” He performed a short hop, lifting up both legs, and then slammed them on the ground to assume an upright stance. From the impact point a jet of amaranth fire exploded in a wide area, the flames unable to burn but carrying enough force to launch James up and back. Seamlessly the gentleman transitioned into another move—one James might recognize from the previous day but, should he have been hit by the blasting stomp, be totally unable to stop from comboing. “I shall sever! Dead On Time!” Slayer cannoned forward first-first, his speed and power igniting the very air around him, and his rock-hard knuckle bore down on James like a crashing wave.

Even as the wave came at him, the Nightstalker waited, knowing that he really only had one or two tricks up his sleeve, and even then, he wasn't sure if that would be enough to make a difference. Still, he had to try, and as the force carried him up as intended, James waited, watching his opponent for his follow up that he'd come to expect from the brawling gentleman. As fate would have it, the Hunter didn't have to wait long before the gentleman spoke.
“I shall sever! Dead On Time!” Slayer cannoned forward fist-first, his speed and power igniting the very air around him, and his fist bore down on James like a crashing wave, but the Nightstalker could only grin beneath his helmet as he approached.

"And here I thought you were holding out on me." The blow would connect as intended, but James would also squeeze off two center mass aimed shots just before impact, his shields shattering once more as he sailed into the protective side walling. Coughing, he struggled a moment to stand up, using the wall for support. If he was honest, he felt like he'd just been struck by Alicia's Storm Fist, though without the jolts of lightning that came with it.

Given how quick he was, Fox didn’t expect that the gargantuan would be able to retaliate with such immediacy to match his own. The mystery of how he could adequately keep up with Fox was one easily solved; he’s dealt with this before. Fox’s usual strategy when confronting heavy hitters in the arena was to move in on them to deal successive bursts of damage and aggravate, then pull back to punish when they make the mistake of moving in on him; a ‘hit and run’ offense that allowed him to vary his approach to favor one or the other depending on how to opponent behaved. It seemed part of that strategy was going to need some improvised adjustment, as there was a good chance that Zangief may not be so prone to making the same mistakes. Fox didn’t know it yet, but his opponent was a more static defensive counter bruiser who could go a relatively long time without having to advance. The fight would come down to whoever could better make the other play their game. Hopefully, Fox would figure that out sooner.

A mere handful of seconds into the match, they were already making fair trade in blows delivered. Fox bounced as he forcefully impacted the stage floor, but he managed to roll to his feet in recovery as he did. No sooner than he could get back up, the wrestler was already aggressively advancing on him, albeit slowly. It didn’t matter. The attack seemed to defy physics. The brute’s body spun independent of his head, and the force of his rotation attempted to draw Fox into the muscular malestrom. The vulpine managed distance as well as he could by moving away from the encroaching assault with a series of one-handed then full backward handsprings that ended in a back layout (backflip). The gap between them neither grew nor shrunk until that point, as per Fox’s intentions. The idea was that Zangief’s attack couldn’t last for too long (no more than 3-5 seconds, on estimate), so Fox would take advantage of the inward current at the approximate moment of the technique’s end to close in. His timing would have to be impeccable in order to not be caught in the damaging torrent, but success would optimize his positioning for a swift counter attack.

As the vacuum effect drew him in, Fox put forth his left foot and planted the flat of it against the Russian’s forehead, braking against it to keep himself out of the effective area of the cyclonic flurry of oversized fists. Ideally, they would stop swinging just as (or just after) this happened, leaving just enough of a window in frames of punishable ending lag for him to exploit. That was what he did best (part of it, anyways). His feet snapped upward--left after right--in an aerial to strike Zangief in the chin. He would settle for staggering the giant if the attack didn’t send him airborne, which would be preferable. Opting this time for a more assured retreating offense rather than a careless repelling one, the motion of Fox’s attack would carry him away from his opponent so to be careful as to not linger in his reach for too long. He let out a three-round blaster volley for his torso while still mid-flip and followed it with a single impact shot for his face as he skipped into a backward dive, his foot only lightly making contact with the floor. The pilot turned mid-dive and swung his free hand around to tag Luigi in, but once their hands met, Fox would grasp his teammate’s hand and hurl him into the ring towards their opponent rather than simply letting him step in and giving their foe time to recover. This may or may not surprise the plumber, depending on what he has come to expect of his comrade after their brief but numerous years of knowing each other, but Fox trusted that Luigi would know what to do next.

Aimed well and thrown with a hint of Slayer's dandy strength, the heavy crash that was Dead On Time careened through James' barrier to shoot him into the in-house arena's perimeter fence. Splinters of wood flew in all directions as he struggled to right himself. That said, the solder's parting gift did not go unnoticed. The two shots smacked his opponent down into the dust with an Hough!”, and splatters of red could be seen around his still form. Even as Teller rose, however, the bullet holes in Slayer's chest closed, leaving only the bloody stains in his suit behind. Of the two, the latter seemed to distress the vampire more as he lay, courtesy of the point-blank shots' force, on the ground. Folding his hands across his head, he gave a sigh as he stared upward. ”Ah...no excitement. Perhaps ye've some skill, but I've seen all I aim to. With only a few moments' knowledge of my abilities, ya see fit to shoot me through the lungs? It takes some brass to resort to kill shots in a petty arena game. If yer not playin' by the rules, lad...you bore me. I'll have to get this suit mended...a pretty penny, I'll wager.”

The dandy's concession was clear enough. For all he cared, the title of winner was James', along with whatever that entailed. Slayer himself continued to recline in the soil until James departed, to keep up the charade of being defeated. Once alone, the vampire got up, dusted himself off, and sauntered away puffing his pipe as though nothing happened.

Match on temporary hold until I write a post to makeup for the sudden dropping of a player.



The samurai didn’t stand a chance against Naija’s homing barrage. Not even his sword could shatter the magic lances that bombarded his body, erupting on contact. Before the fish could add more lethal damage to her already overkill victory, a wand of light passed through Mitsurugi’s wavering body enveloping him in a translucent orb of light that absorbed the two orbs of energy thrown by Naija. The samurai was allowed to safely drop to his knees and crumple to the floor. His body smoking from the burns left by the assault.

Cloud began to internally regret switching places after seeing Mitsurugi nearly get annihilated by a blood-thirsty Naija. He didn’t know his teammate was so violent, and if he had known, he might have stayed in the ring to spare him. As the wand went spinning back toward its owner, the blonde girl caught it as she pushed down on the rope and gracefully hiked her legs over it.

“Well aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine,” Lux taunted facetiously. “Mind not killing my teammate? It’ll only make me want to beat you even harder.”

As Mitsurugi was pulled off the mat by tournament staff, Lux tossed her hand out in Naija’s direction, dropping a large sparkly bubble in the center of the ring (Lucent Singularity). The bubble continued to billow, growing in size the longer she let it remain. Regardless, the little sorceress was patient in her fight, watching Naija and waiting as her attack continued to blossom.

System Results
Naija Lv. 4 40/40 HP
Attacks:
First: Hit Second: Overkill Third: Overkill Fourth: Overkill Fifth: Overkill Sixth: Overkill Seventh: Overkill Eighth: Overkill

Mitsurugi Lv. 1 – 0/10 HP
Attacks:
None

Lux Lv. 4 40/40 HP
Attacks:
None




Cyrax watched Jack roll out of the ring after slapping Samus’s hand.

“Coward,” he scoffed. Even with his big dog, he was nothing but bone and flesh. Machine was far superior. When the orange—what Cyrax believed to be a robot—stepped into the ring, the cyborg’s demeanor changed. Machine versus machine. The orange one was more of his style.

Samus started the match launching two homing missiles. Cyrax jumped back and tried to dodge them, but no matter what acrobatics or moves he performed, the missiles grew closer and closer until they detonated against his being. The explosion made Juno wince and Lupus cover his eyes with his paws. The charred cyborg dropped to the mat like a hunk of burnt metal as smoke and the smell of burning wires permeated the area.

Cyrax’s twitching and whirring hand rose in the air as he muttered on a distorted voice: “I-I-I..f-f-f-feel no-no-no sh-sh-shame to be-be-be defeated-ed-ed by a fe-fe-fellow Lin-Lin-Lin Kuei.”

Juno pulled down on the rope and hopped into the ring, fanning the burning smell.

“Whew; what a way to go,” said the soldier with a playful grin. He then looked down at his dog Lupus who padded into the ring next to him. “You ready boy?”

“Baroo!” Lupus replied.

Juno broke into a sprint for the northwest corner of the ring before he spun around, drawing a blue, rotating machine gun. While he laid down some suppressive fire on Samus, Lupus was galloping along the northern rope line and the pistol mounted on his back was actually taking precise aim on Samus to take advantage of any scrambling she might need to do to escape the machine gun fire. A dog of all fighters!

System Results
Jack Lv. 1 – 9/10 HP
Attacks:
None

Samus Lv. 4 - 40/40 HP
Attacks:
First: Hit Second: Overkill Third: Overkill

Cyrax Lv. 1 – 0/10 HP
Attacks:
None

Juno & Lupus Lv. 4 40/40 HP
Attacks:
None




In the middle of Shantae and Isaac’s match, Steve Fox raced toward the ring waving his hands.

“Woah, woah, stop! This match is over,” he announced. He dove across the mat just beneath the ropes and rose to his feet.

Isaac stepped back from Shantae lowering his sword as Steve Fox walked over to stand between them.

“Hey; I’m sorry to stop you fight so early, but it looks like your teammate has flew the coop,” Steve informed Shantae, pointing to how Bartz was no longer with her. “Sorry, love, but that means the match is over. I gotta declare a winner though because people were bettin’, and it’ll have to be Isaac’s and Rayman’s team.”

Rayman sat up from his hammock and exclaimed, “What? That is so lame. I guess that’s what happens when you bring a chicken to a dog fight!”

He scowled at Shantae as though it was her fault why he didn’t get to fight. Hopping down, he unhooked his hammock and folded the material. “I’m outta here. This was a waste of time.”

Isaac sheathed his sword and bowed to Shantae. “We can call this a draw. Maybe we’ll have another opportunity to fight again in a fair match.”

The boy then straightened and turned to leave the ring.

Steve rubbed his neck, feeling a little bad for the girl. “Maybe you can just watch the other matches or be a ring model! No; you probably wouldn’t like that. Hey, I know the fight didn’t end how you wanted it, but feel free to come back and compete again.”

Being a busy man, Steve didn’t linger long before he was running off again to manage his underground arena. If Shantae happened to wander by the reward table, she would find that the yellow dragonfly was staring at her.

Psst! Hey! Yeah; you; girl. Can you help me?

It sounded as though a human had been addressing her, but as the dragonfly continued to stare at her. The bearer of the voice became evident.

System Results
Shantae Lv. 1 – 10 HP
Attacks:
None

Isaac Lv. 1 – 8 HP
Attacks:
None

Before anything could happen, Steve Fox suddenly dove into the ring, and stopped the match. Shantae stopped, and stepped back away from Isaac as Steve rose from the mat. After Steve pointed out that Bartz was nowhere to be found, Shantae turned around and found his words to be true. "What? Seriously?" Where could he have gone and why had he left so suddenly? She turned to face Steve again when he spoke. Sure enough, the victory was handed to Isaac and Rayman.

Shantae looked to Rayman when he piped up in anger and packed up his hammock. Shantae was conflicted between feeling indignant at being blamed for something that wasn't her fault, and feeling guilty that this match didn't end as any of them wanted.
Shantae then looked to Isaac as he spoke next. She smiled a bit at him and she answered him, "I look forward to it,"

Shantae's attention was drawn back to Steve when he rubbed the back of his neck and spoke apologetically. She accepted his offer to watch the other matches and thanked him after he told her that she was free to come back and compete again. Once he was gone, she easily jumped over the ropes of the ring, and headed off to go watch the other matches. At this point, she walked past the rewards table and stopped when she heard the voice coming from it, asking for her help.

She searched for the source of the voice, only to find that it was apparently coming from the dragonfly. Sparx, if she remembered the name correctly. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching before she quietly answered the dragonfly, "What is it? How can I help?"

If this dragonfly was sentient, then it was probably being held captive against his will here, and that went against the half-genie's good conscious. Chances are that the dragonfly was going to ask her to help him break free, but it could just as easily be something else. But if he wanted to break free...then it was going to be a difficult endeavor with all of the fighters here. Plus, Steve and Moneybags might not be too keen on just letting her take one of the prizes.

Sparx, cautiously looked about just as Shantae had, his little wings buzzing away. The yellow dragonfly smiled somewhat when he managed to get the genie’s attention. Unlike the riff-raff that filled the arena, she looked like someone trustworthy.

“Oh, thank goodness. You have to help me. I’m not supposed to be here. My friend, Spyro’s in danger. He won’t survive without me. Moneybags has me locked up in here!” Sparx desperately explained. “If I’m not released soon, The Land of the Dragons will no longer exist!”

A shadow fell over the dragonfly, causing the insect to flinch in fright as the greedy bear leaned over the cage with a long smile. He gazed at Shantae, wondering if she found some interest in his little prize. Resting a paw upon the cage, Moneybags leaned upon it possessively as he eyed Shantae.

“Hello there. Oh, I believe you’re the contestant whose match unfortunately ended. Shame, shame. Did you find something that you liked on the prize table?” The bear looked left and right, stroking his black bowtie with his claws. His maw parted in a toothy grin. “Keep this between you and me. If you pay me 1,000 gems, then I’ll let you have the dragonfly under the table. Our Steve friend doesn’t have to know.”

Sparx frowned and darted up at the cage’s ceiling to snag one of Moneybag’s fingers between his teeth. Moneybags retracted his hand with a curse and growled at the insect, “You beast!”

Sparx glared at the bear. “Up to your money-grubbing tricks I see! Our world is in danger! Aren’t you worried?”

Moneybag’s eyelids carelessly lowered. “Hm…not really. I have a new home now and it makes me lots of money.”

Sparx growled, “You greedy bear! When I get out of here, I’m gonna tell Spyro and he’s gonna roast you!”

Moneybag’s eyes widened momentarily in fright before he laughed, “You won’t ever make it out of here. No one wants an insect. There are much more interesting prizes here. You will never be chosen!”

“We’ll see!” Sparx declared. He then turned to Shantae and she would see his head lower hopelessly. He had put up a brave front, but he actually believed the bear. Who would want an insect as a prize?

Naija was perhaps not as dismayed as everyone else, as the smoking body of the swordsman hit the floor, but she was feeling rather guilty by how overboard she had gone.

”oh oops. In my defense, the big ones generally take more of a beating before they go down. Um. sorry?”

Generally they weren't people either, they were just monsters or things that had once been people. Guilt and embarrassment welled up inside her, but she put them aside when the blond haired woman stepped into the arena, full of confidence. After what Naija had done to her partner, such a display was unnerving to say the least.

Naija's suspicions that this woman had more to her than her appearance implied were confirmed when she threw out a large glowing sphere of some kind. She reflexively dodged out of the way, but the orb simply settled in the center of the arena, growing slowly in a menacing fashion.

”So is that just going to sit there?”

She guessed it was probably going to explode, but being in the center wouldn’t it hit her too? Perhaps she had some way of avoiding the damage, so the safest place was right where she was.

She began to move, skirting the outside of the arena with her nimble leaps in order to stay as far away from that glowing orb as possible, not slowing to open fire and instead charging another 6 shot blast. If she made it to the same edge as Lux she would move towards her erratically, hoping to dodge whatever else she had up her sleeves, before jumping high into the air to do the required flip to let out the charged attack to it’s maximum potential. She soared over the girl, letting out her blast above her, then landed behind her and quickly spun round in her crouched with an attempted spin kick to the shins, intending to knock her over.

With his own match finished, James had spent a short time recovering before actually leaving the ring. If he could help it, James would remember to simply avoid getting caught by moves that launched the Hunter into the air against his will in the future. As he left, he headed over to the prize table to see what they were and caught the tail end of the short conversation between Moneybags and the little dragon fly. Nobody will want him, eh? Dragon flies are extinct back home, nevermind the fact that I am beginning to have my doubts about how willing that bug was to be a prize, so the joke's on the bear. Closing the remaining distance, James rests a hand on the table and smiles behind his helmet.

"I think I'll take the dragon fly, Moneybags. Unless, of course, there's an issue?" His voice took on the most subtle of dangerous edges, indicating that he wasn't above kicking bear butt if it came down to it. "Besides, he looks like being here wasn't his idea in the first place, so it's only fair this be set right."

Shantae listened to the dragonfly, and her eyes widened in concern at the mention that if Sparx doesn't go back home, then the Dragon Lands would cease to exist. Unfortunately, before she could even say anything in response, someone loomed over the dragonfly, and she looked up to see that the figure was none other than the tux wearing bear, Moneybags. Her gaze narrowed when Moneybags offered her a deal under the table. The half-genie hero had to admit: Even if she had the Gemjug transformation dance, there was no way in heck that she would want to fork any sort of riches over to this Scumbag. She had to keep herself from smiling when Sparx bit Moneybags' finger. She listened to the conversation, and she couldn't help cut feel anger for Sparx towards the bear when it became clear that Sparx believed those terrible words.

Before she could say anything, or think of a way to get Sparx out of there, somebody stepped up to prove the bear wrong. She looked to the figure to see that his face was hidden behind the helmet. After hearing his words, she couldn't help but smile and crossed her arms. She whispered "Thank you," to the figure, before she looked to Moneybags and she answered him, "You were saying, Moneybags? I believe my answer should be obvious at this point," She then pointed at him, and she answered, "You can take that dirty Under-the-table deal and stuff it!"

She then realized something and she asked out loud, half out of genuine curiosity, and the other half out of mischief, "Huh....I wonder...What other secret deals are you hiding from Steve...?"

Tag: @Etherean Fire@Lmpkio@DracoLunaris@Zarkun@Lugubrious@Crosswire@Guardian Angel Haruki@Afro Samurai@Rockin Strings

---

Moneybags was startled from his greedy thoughts by the hand that suddenly slapped upon the prize table. The bear looked over at the hi-tech warrior as he made his declaration.

“Uh, beh-beh-beh, pardon?” Moneybags stammered. His monocle tumbled from his eye because he was so shocked.

“HA!” Sparx happily exclaimed, frowning victoriously up at the bear.

Frowning, Moneybags returned the monocle to his eye and waved his paws over the other prizes. “Might I interest you, Sir, in the other prizes? We have here a feather supposedly from the legendary phoenix. It is believed to bring whoever you wish back from the dead.”

He then grasped the keys to a mysterious vehicle, holding them up. “Or are you the more adventurous type? You seem like a commando. Why not a vehicle to support you in battle?”

As James insisted on taking the insect, Moneybags quickly returned the keys to the table and backed away slowly. If he hadn’t been covered in so much fur, then the guardian and half-genie might have seen him sweating bullets.

“It wasn’t my idea! He trapped me here!” Sparx accused.

Shantae turned on the bear next. Moneybags slipped a finger into the collar of his shirt and tugged it uncomfortably. He continued to back away from the two heroes as the half-genie directed her sharp finger at him.

Huh….I wonder…What other secret deals are you hiding from Steve…?

Moneybags felt his back bump into someone and whirled around to nearly pee himself when he saw Steve. The British fighter had an unamused look on his face. His hands were resting on his hips while he had quietly listened to the exchange, and he hadn’t liked what he heard.

“Yeah, what otha’ secrets are you keepin’ from me, Moneybags?” Steve asked.

Moneybags turned in a circle, looking at the glares from James, Sparx, Shantae, and Steve. The bear’s anxiety seemed to ease once he accepted he was caught. His fur was no longer ruffled as he drew a handkerchief from his innercoat pocket and removed his monocle to clean it.

“Well…if you must know…I was paid quite the pretty penny to bring the dragonfly here. The Smash Arena seemed like the best place for a meddlesome insect. I hadn’t expected someone to actually want to win the thing. Then again, I wasn’t expecting our prizes to be desired so desperately by another buyer.”

Steve’s hands left his hips and curled into fists so tight that the bones in them popped. “You’re makin’ my knuckles burn, mate. What sort ov’ underground deals ‘ave you been makin’?”

Returning the monocle to his eye, Moneybags frowned. “Oh, you’ll find out.”

As though on cue, the wall of the arena cracked as a thunderous boom was heard on the other side. The noise had been so loud that it had quieted the crowd. Several heads turned in the direction of the wall as a second boom caused a chunk to fly into the air. The cement slab sent the crowd running out from under it, but some characters weren’t so lucky to escape. The slab shook the floor when it landed and standing in the improvised doorway was a giant, mean-green ogre-looking beast covered in golden armor. He was extremely top heavy, nowhere
near as large as General Brigan had been, but still one of the roid monsters. The ogre or "Gnorc" was brandishing a large mace, a weapon that easily explained the imploded wall.

Bearing his teeth passed the tusks that rose like stalagmites passed his face, Gnasty Gnorc waved a green hand over the crowd and declared, “THIS PARTY IS OVER!”

Gnasty Gnorc then turned his red, burning eyes to the small army behind him, “KILL THEM ALL! YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT!”

The Gnorcs poured into the room, ramming innocents too slow to steer clear of their path and stampeding over them. Most of the green Gnorcs seemed fat, large and dopey, wielding clubs and shields—nothing of the hi-tech sort. A single swing from the Gnorcs threw a mob into the air on panicked screams. Moving swiftly through the crowd was a blue-turban wearing creature who wasn’t concerned with fighting, but through all the chaos, he was drawing closer to the group around the prize table.

---

GM Note: I didn't state a set number of minions because even if I did, I expect everyone to kill about 100 each. The kill count wouldn't add up in the end, so have fun slaying some minions. Gnasty Gnorc is a boss battle. Some of you can start it, but remember, certain decisions yield certain results. I didn't specify his intentions for a reason, so don't ask. Everyone who signed up for the Smash Arena is involved in this scenario. The new players who joined will also be involved in this scenario. No one else.



The Bronze Arena coin has been awarded to James Varrock for winning the 1v1v1 bout. If the player wins a consecutive battle in the next Smash Arena, then the bronze coin can be traded in for the silver, and so on. The only consequence the character will suffer if he or she were to lose, is that the coin will not be upgraded. The coin will instead remain bronze and won't ever upgrade until the character wins another match.

Character: Steve
Level: 1
Location: Smash Arena
Tag: @Holy Soldier@Etherean Fire@Lmpkio@DracoLunaris@Zarkun@Lugubrious@Crosswire@Guardian Angel Haruki@Afro Samurai

Steve awoke to a loud bang. Looking around, he found himself on a white bed in what appeared to be an infirmary. He quickly re-donned his armor and picked up his swords before rushing out, only to see some large, green, bipedal creatures attacking the arena. Looking around, he saw Shantae and, with a quick nod, ran to her side.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, his swords ready. "What's with all the... what are they, anyways?"

He glanced at the rest of the group around her, only to see a bunch of beings he didn't know. "Hi. I'm Steve. Is that a dragonfly?" He leaned towards the cage with a smile. "You look like you'd have more fun flying free." He began reaching for the cage, not yet knowing the insect could talk, and expected someone to snatch it away before he could touch it.

Whether he got the cage to free Sparx or not, he would then turn to the gnorcs, ready to beat them down with his wooden swords.

As Moneybags continued talking as Steve kept asking questions, James' frown continued to grow behind his helmet. If what the bear was saying was true, it was possible that a Mugen infected villain could have been setting up a rather potent coup in their home universe that the greedy animal was far too eager to take. Reminds me of that guy from Tex Machanica who tried to bribe Lord Shaxx to support the company. Still can see the guy's face. Charger, meanwhile, had materialized and was scanning the area, for all the good it was doing. However, as the Nightstalker began to say something to his Ghost companion, a loud boom echoed through the arena, resulting in a hand flying to his hand cannon as he looked towards the cracked wall. A second hit sent a large chunk of the wall flying into the crowd.

The dust kept anything from being immediately available to see, and James picked up the cage that Sparx was in as the blocky builder from his match arrived and reached for the cage himself. "I got this, mate." Spinning the revolver so he's holding it's barrel, he smashes the locked end with the grip before opening it to let the dragonfly out. In the time it took him to do this, miniature versions of an ugly, green thing were running around wielding weaponry that seemed rather outdated by the standards of a lot of the people the Guardian had already met, even the blocky builder. All the same, James wasted no time.

"Well lady and gents, seems there's no rest for the wicked. See you on the other side." And with that, one of his Void Wall grenades sailed into the crowd, harming only the green bastards strangely enough. The Hunter was right behind it, his hand cannon ringing out three times as bullets passed through the heads of the minions. However, as he dropped grunts with lethal accuracy, the blue robed guy stood out, as he seemed uninterested in the others in general. That alone deserved special attention, and James fired a round that impacted the ground just in front of the weirdo. "Now, now, you helped start this mess. What say you see it through at least?"

With a passing disinterest, a certain gentleman had seated himself and proceeded to spectate the remainder of the Smash Arena fights upon his arrival. Having come more or less straight from his own confrontation, Slayer had seen fit to determine whether or not everybody in these 'games' employed the killer intent characteristic of antiquity's gladiatorial combat. He'd reclined in a vacant area of the audience, watching the goings-on down below when his mind wasn't wandering. As best he could ascertain, most people weren't so eager to use lethal attacks as Varrock, but Naija wasn't most people. She went so overboard that her opponent, a traditional-looking samurai, looked as though he'd been roasted alive afterward. While he could tell that Mitsurugi still breathed from this distance, Slayer felt sure that he was the exception rather than the rule, which had to be at least somewhat alarming for most of the viewers and/or participants.

A short time later the vampire found his attention diverted by, of all things, a commotion at the prizes stand. Slayer spotted Varrock the instant he cast his eyes yonder, no doubt claiming his ill-gotten gains. The prize distributor looked extremely uncomfortable, and while he couldn't blame him for not liking the soldier's attitude, the gentleman wondered what might give the anthropomorphic animal cause to be so distressed. From here, after all, he couldn't catch a lick of what was being said. With that avenue closed to him, Slayer allowed his focus to drift once again.

His reverie came to an abrupt end as a riotous impact rattled the building. Curious, he raised an eyebrow toward its source, a section of wall now bearing substantial cracks. Someone, it appeared, was about to make a dynamic entrance. A moment later the wall broke open, sending chips and dust into the air as the bulk of its weight fell straight forward like a castle drawbridge. Through the aperture trundled a large, ugly green creature in opulent gear and toting a grossly oversized mace. Saliva flew from his meaty lips as he bellowed through the stadium, but to be honest Slayer found the cretin more comical than calamitous. The shape of him could scarcely be believed, but still more humorous was the sense of judgment that told him storming an arena full of powerful heroes alone was a good idea. The gentleman hazarded a guest that he was, in fact, not alone, and the next moment a horde of bungling buffoons hustled into the arena after him. ”Goodness.” Slayer stood up from his seat and sauntered forward to the railing that overlooked the arena. ”I had no idea we were to be treated to an old-fashioned slobberknocker. I would be only too pleased to lend a hand, of course.” He had a mind to try and shave off a little more rust from his fighting style, but he went into this endeavor knowing that it hardly paid off to try to hone a blade's edge against ants.

A few seconds later, Slayer hit the ground in the middle of a crowd of Gnorcs with both feet extended, crashing down like a pillar. A blast of purple flame welled up around him, violently dispersing the mob in whose midst he landed. Two of the less-affected buffoons ran toward him -well, 'ran' wasn't quite the right word; 'waddled' might have been more appropriate- and took a swing. The instant before the first club hit, Slayer ducked backward out of the way, and before his attacker could grasp that he'd actually missed the dandy's fist collided with his upper cheek with enough power to twist his head and snap his neck an an instant. Like a sack of potatoes the Gnorc slumped over, and the second one's mind switched instantly from aggression to panic. He raised his shield just in time to block the gentleman's cross, only for the blow to turn his shield into kindling and hit home. The Gnorc whistled as he flew into the opposite wall, bowling over a good few of his fellows on the way. Slayer frowned, glancing at his hand. ”Alas...they are about the weakest creatures conceivable.” He looked around at the Gnorcs getting up, pretty much ignorant to the obliteration of their comrades. ”Well, at least they are little more than mindless flesh bred for violence. Such beings are not subject to moral scruples. I shall not trouble myself with remorse as I put you out of your misery.” Ignoring the vampire's words, the Gnorcs converged on him, and Slayer initiated his assault.

The swift introduction of the first unfortunate Gnorc to the ceiling via high-kick set the pace for the rest of the slaughter. So weak were the addlepated ogres that none even necessitated a combo; in most cases a single blow was all it took. Slayer bobbed and wove from side to side, evading a good few of the strikes aimed at him and just tanking the rest. By sheer force of numbers the Gnorcs hoped to overwhelm him, but they lacked the damage and technique. One by one they were reduced to still bodies or scattered chunks. Only at about the 50 mark did Slayer's injuries mount up enough to warrant his attention. Upon noticing that he was bruised and bleeding, the vampire gave an amused hmph. "Truly do these limitations disturb me. If you deign to further sully my garments, I regret that I shall have to use untoward force." He flexed his hands before reeling back to throw a lightning-fast, red-hot Dead on Time that sent no fewer than 10 Gnorcs flying into the wall at once, ablaze and broken. It was at that point that the Gnorcs realized that even their cumulative efforts were futile, and for Slayer it was all downhill from there.

Though he'd noticed the two more interesting individuals among the sea of mooks, he left their elimination to the glory seekers. A gentleman need not steal the spotlight, but instead help take out the trash so that others might pursue their own goals more easily.

Robin
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Two
Location: Platform City - Smash Arena - Sitting in the audiance

While all the fights were taking place, a rather mysterious individual was watching the fights with intent as others around this individual either cheered or booed. For this individual with the hood on his head covering his facial features slightly, seeing such a spectacle wasn't anything new.

Then again, it was still wonderous to know that there were so many other worlds out there. Each with their own capable fighters like the ones he was observing.

Though Robin would have perfered the more "regal" tone of locations the fights from the fourth tournament took place based on his memories. Even more so since this place seemed..."shady" to use the lack of a better term. Heck, even the arena's in his world were cleaner and better kept than this place.

Though he didn't complain. There were rules and codes of conduct here and judging from the individuals in the place, cheaters or those with ill-intent may reconsider starting trouble here. But Robin still felt uneasey despite that.

His uneasiness was confirmed when it seemed the matches were mostly over...then a giant green man or beast of some sort tore through a wall, made a death threat, then it's army began attacking anyone and everyone there.

Leaping from the audiance, Robin brought down his hoodie, revealing his face and white hair, and got to work. In his left hand was a heal staff and in his right was his thunder tome. He kept the bronze sword in his cloak for now.

As he hit the ground, he cringed as bystandards were getting knocked around by the smaller minions of the bigger green brute.

"...Enough! You've hurt enough innocents!", Robin yelled. Releasing a bolt of energy from his thunder tome, he hit one square on it's chest as it hit the ground hard.

That's when Robin made a self-sacrifing strategy. He was going to draw as much attention on himself as possible then funnel them into a line towards him so he can zap them one by one if necessary. The whole point was to get them to ignore the unarmed bystandards trying to escape.

"Come on! I have enough brains for all your brawn", Robin boasted as he began to move around the area. He noted some of the other fighters were still there and moved towards them as he fired off a thunder shot on occassion.

Shantae couldn't help but grin at how Moneybags was sweating under all of their gazes, and she had to hold back a laugh at how Steve's presence seemed to add on to the anxiety. However, when the sentient bear seemed to calm down and accept the fact that he was caught, Shantae couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Why would he be so calm? She listened carefully to what he had to say, and a sense of suspicion and dread grew in her heart. After Moneybags gave his final answer, the walls were broken down by something huge. She looked towards the source and saw that it was none other than a green giant with smaller minions.

The chaos that ensued reminded Shantae heavily of how Tinkerbats invade Scuttle Town. She knew what she must do, especially since the giant had shouted an order to kill everyone here. She mumbled "Not on my watch!" She noticed that James had freed Sparx, so she would be able to focus on the green things that rampaged through the arena.

"Go, Sparx! Get out of here!"
Shantae kept an eye on Sparx as she dashed forwards and attacked the green creatures that tried to hurt the innocent bystanders and arena visitors. With a crack of her hair whip, the green things were either knocked down or sent flying into the air. It was almost hilarious. She made her way to the blue creature, figuring that James was going to need help in that regards. Plus, if she didn't know better, it seemed way more interested in the Rewards Table than in fighting. Was it after Sparx?

Once she was close enough, she attacked the blue creature with her hair, if not delivering a successful attack, then hopefully it would delay the creature long enough to let Sparx escape.