---

---

Coming soon...

".... WEEEEEEEEEEEELCOME FIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHTERS!"

The announcer with a worm purple worm on her head that kept trying to grab the microphone shouted across the room. She stood on top of the wooden stage in the massive wooden room. Her voice reverbed across the room with the help of the speakers (the room was so big that very few would hear her otherwise!), and she waved her free hand around in the air. The room cheered, as it was full of fighters from all over the world, of all shapes and sizes. She had a massive smile on her face as she continued.

"ARE YOU ALL READY FOR THIS YEAR'S WORLD FIGHTING CARNIVAL!?!"

Followed by more cheering.

"DON'T GET EXCITED JUST YET! WE STILL HAVE AN HOUR BEFORE THE TOURNAMENT OFFICIALLY BEGINS! IN THE MEANTIME WE HAVE PREPARED AN OPEN BAR AND BUFFET OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON US!"

She pointed at the giant table in the center of the room that had all types of food from all over the world, and across the stage was a giant bar with a team of bartenders going crazy fast trying to serve all the fighters.

"ENJOY YOURSELVES IN THE MEANTIME! JUST DO NOT GO CRAZY OR GET INTO A FIGHT - SAVE THAT FOR THE TOURNAMENT! THAT IS ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"

With that, the announcer walked off the stage and the short period of festivities began.

---

---

Wasn't she something?

Justin said to himself with a wry grin as he stood in the middle of the room... he made sure to throw up his hood and had his hands in his pockets. He had his head tilted enough so that his face was concealed... he was more than certain that nobody knew who he was. Though he realized in a room full of characters like this, he probably stood out due to looking like he just walked in here off the street. He briefly lifted his head to look to the left, and then the right... everyone was focused on the bar, the food, and each other. He sighed as he walked over to the buffet table and grabbed a chicken drum - it was very well-seasoned and fresh. Looked delicious! He took a bite out of it before... he sighed and walked over to the bar - tossing it into the trash can as he did so.

He had a seat and a shot of tequila was put in front of him by the bartender who smiled. Just out of customs, he grabbed it and took a little sip and she looked at him like he was odd. He sighed as he looked to the right - there was a pretty blonde-haired lady with a black dress on who smiled at him briefly... he noticed her cybernetic eye and then stared at the bar...

"... I know that ain't Justin E. Haggar, MAVERICK superstar!" Justin winched as he heard a familiar voice. He turned around to see Jaden ^fuckin Raldo, he quietly groaned as he had his arms crossed, a blunt hanging from his punchable face with that dumbass grin. Justin wasn't surprised that dickhead was here, he was just wondering how he recognized him. Jaden teleported in a flash of smoke and appeared in the open seat right next to Justin - quietly smiling before he opened his dumbass mouth, "Look at you tryin' hide, my boy! Heard what happened to ya?"

A glass of Hennessy slid Jaden's way without even asking! He grabbed onto it and raised it to his face as he looked at Justin and said, "... It's real tragic, ain't it?"

"Well, I don't need your sympathy, bud," Justin sighed out loud. "You should be more concerned with everyone from Japan wanting a piece of you."

Jaden laughed.

"I'm used to everyone wanting a piece of my ass!"

"... Not in the way you're thinking of, though," Justin cracked a smile and Jaden's smile left.

"Ah, you got jokes, huh?" Jaden grabbed one of his swords on his back and slowly pulled it out before hearing a quick.

"No fights."

From the bartender as Jaden put the sword away. "Well, I'm at least happy to see your ass is still up and running, just remember..." He shrugged as he got up from off the stool, "... The Power Stone is mine."

"Don't you already have enough people after you for that?" Justin pointed at Murakumo on his hip and then chuckled.

"Maaaaaan, I dare a motherfucka' to step to me. There's a reason why I'm still here, J-train - that's my new name for ya; J-Train. See ya later!" With that, Jaden disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Justin resumed sitting there, in relative peace.

Until of course...

"AYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Justin turned his head around to see Jaden taking the stage, microphone in hand - Justin's eyes widened as the Ninja Dumbass continued. "While we wait, I'm going to turn this whole joint into a party! Here's a joint from my new album, NUMBAH ONE NINJA!"

That was when Jaden began to loudly rap his song... somehow he has his music playing over all the speakers and Justin had his eyes shut as he was desperately hoping this wasn't happening

---

---

---

“So this will be your tournament debut as Justice Rider Blaze. How are you feeling about that?”

Jill Breicen smiled warmly at the woman shoving a microphone in her face, demonstrating her well-trained art of focusing on its uncomfortable presence without actually looking at it. She didn’t have to think long before she summoned up the enthusiasm.

“I’m pretty excited about it!” Jill said with a nod. “It’ll be a great way to show my stuff, improve, and make some new friends! All without the usual pressure of, y’know, savin’ the day and all.” The interviewer laughed.

“That’s great to hear! So, if you win-”

“When I win.” Jill said, grinning. The woman responded in kind.

“When you win, what would our young Rider do with the grand prize?”

“Well,” Jill’s tone became a bit more considered. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this one. Hoarding that kinda power all to yourself feels a bit selfish to me, and after clearing it with the higher-ups I think the best idea would be to hand that rock over to our friends in Horizon Frontiers for research. And no matter how this whole thing turns out, I’ll be holding a donation drive for their Better Life Foundation. Sticking up for people in need is just part of the job, y’know?”

“Sounds like you’ve got this all thought out! So-” The interview was interrupted by the sound of rap blasting through the nearby speakers. The tone in SHINING’s section of the reception room immediately shifted, and Jill knew it was fine to take a look around. To her left, Izzy was already lighting up a cigarette. To her right, Ryuuna Raiden, current CEO of SHINING, was giving a warm smile and understanding nods to the crew. Dozens of mics and cameras all went on standby.

“Alright, take five people!” A stern feminine voice managed to sneak in through the beat. “Guess we’ve got a hijacker this year.” Jill sighed and let her shoulders relax, past “interview relaxed” and into “actually relaxed.” She immediately seized into surprise when she felt a firm pat on the back.

”Guess we’ve got a few minutes away from the circus, huh?” Isabella Levai blew a cloud of smoke into the air, not even bothering to check for a no smoking sign. ”How are you holding up? Ready for the real fights to start?” Jill nodded.

”I think so,” She gave him a mostly confident thumbs up. ”Mostly just worried about Jazzy though, not sure where she ended up running off to.” Isabella nodded, and Jill took off through the crowd.

---

“So, uh, would you mind saying a few words about how you’ve adjusted to-” The man following Jasmine Breicen, already struggling to speak over the music, was interrupted by the sound of a loud belch after Jasmine finished her energy drink. She crushed the can under her boot, then sent it flying up into the air with some dextrous footwork, right into the maw of Beelzebub, Prince of Gluttony.

”I’ve told you vultures that you can fuck right off.” Jasmine said, not even glancing at the man. Usually the only reason the media ever paid attention to her at this point was because they were A) chuds looking to farm outrage, or B) someone who couldn’t get an interview with her big sister. This guy was very obviously the latter.

”Hold on kid, I’ve got this one!” The bat demon said, spraying half-eaten chunks of aluminum across the floor. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing.

”Y’know, it’s been a real good while since I was up enjoying the human world, and I gotta say it gets better every time I go back!” He gave a laugh and a hearty grin. ”You humans really got it made, I tell ya. Here we are in fronta the biggest smorgasbord alotta these saps’ll ever lay eyes on, and if I wanted to I could order even more food that gets here in half an hour, tops, while you can walk outside for twenty minutes and find someone who can’t even afford to get by! We couldn’ta done better our-”

“I-I think I have enough, thanks…” And then he was gone.

”Thanks for the save.” Jasmine said, holding out an open hand. Beelzebub awkwardly slapped it with his wing.

”Just havin’ some fun is all!” Beelzebub laughed again. ”Say, we should have a bit more. Y’ever try one’a them hot dogs filled with whipped cream?” Jasmine stared blankly at the bar.

”What, like with a pump or something…?” Even after a year of hijinks, Jasmine still didn’t quite get him.

---

---

---

A pitch black limo pulled up in front of the tournament building. The kind with black tinted windows and completely featureless except for a glossier black sticker on the bumper that read “ATTACK AND DETHRONE GOD”. Even as Rosie stepped out, it was impossible to make out anything inside.

“We trust you know your duties?” A snakelike voice emerged from its depths.

”Oh, I’m as trustworthy as we come.” Rosie smirked. She supposed it had been some time since she’d done this kind of work. Or maybe Bill had let some old details slip. Probably not, since she was out doing such a lovely favor.

”Then we bid you good day.” The door closed. Rosie blew a kiss to her chariot as it sped away. Her eye turned back, acknowledging the fact that she was being watched, and made her way to the reception room. Between the music and the fighters, she knew it was going to be a lovely round of chaos this year. She supposed it was time to case the joint...

Of the crowd of fighters, there were many who were looking to show off - whether this was to boost their egos, to intimidate the opposition, to pick up dates of appropriately athletic nature, to secure almost-literally last minute sponsorship deals, it was as good of a place to do it as any. You had an audience from the world over, plenty of fresh faces, and few of them could place everyone's faces to names. A blank slate of impressionable peers to make a good show for.

Yazhu Kuang, the unranked, unheard of, generally unimportant fighter from China was one of those looking to make an impression at such a late point.

It began earlier in the day, shortly after arriving in this city of combat, that she found herself with a conundrum. Early on, one of the locals stopped her to ask her why she was wearing such a weird hat. This was a simple answer, as she said: "Is this not the garb of a Taoist hermit?" The local simply replied, without much thought, "What the heck is a Taoist hermit?"

The meat of the issue was that she then spent the next 15 minutes trying to explain the ideals, practices, philosophy, aesthetics and belief system of the practitioners of the Tao, and no matter how detailed she got, the man simply stared at her blankly. Pointing at the symbol on her hat got a flat "I thought that was the symbol for kung fu", after which Yazhu felt a part of her soul break off and dissolve.

Taoism was a secretive practice, its history in her time characterized by the majority of its applicants being scholars with a reason to keep their teachings to themselves, or otherwise living in the mountains and only coming down every century or so to fuck with people for fun. Despite this, the idea that it had seemingly either not spread to this far off land of Brazil or simply did it so furtively that no one noticed was quite frightening to Yazhu. Her credibility as a sorcerer and a fighter was at stake...

Then, she had a brilliant idea. She walked on air like two feet upwards.

The reaction she got out of the local man was enough to bring her there and then, to the gathering hall of the world's greatest, and try the same thing. After talking to the only reporter who cared about her at all, Ben Mankiewicz of Milford, Connecticut and owner of fightinfreakznewz.org, she demonstrated her gift by again walking around the air of the hall.

"Look! This is the potential all followers of the Way can achieve," she shouted down at Mr. Mankiewicz and the few fellow fighters who bothered to look her way. "And this sort of thing is simply the easy stuff for people like me - all the cool stuff, I'll save for the actual tourney!"

"Wow," said the independent reporter with a readership of several hundred with genuine appreciation, "that's incredible! You're going to have an upper hand if you can pull this stunt off mid-fi--"

"Pish-posh," said an older man who stepped from the crowd and took a seat upon the carpet. Vasunanda was his name, and he was a Buddhist master from the distant land of India. "That is a simple trick, good sir. I learned this from my master whereabouts I was her age." Sitting cross-legged, he suddenly rose into the air and hovered with no effort at all. "She is learned, but not that learned."

"She knows nothing," said a second man. Andrei Dukhopski, of the Modern Khlystsi, was a severe-looking man who wore no clothes beyond a thin waistcloth and a crude rosary. "A simple witch can perform things imitating miracles, but does she know anything of the Lord? Watch what one of His followers can do!" He then took a leather strap out and proceeded to whip his own backside while spinning around, and in doing so also floated about the room.

Now, she was hardly upstaged by these two, but the next time that Mr. Mankiewicz turned to look at her, she could tell that something had changed. A certain spark in his eye had departed. She went from a wonder that he had only ever heard about, to one of a group of many who apparently just treated flying as something you do in front of strangers.

Yazhu crossed her arms and grumbled, remaining above the increasingly strange religious-ascetic air show.

---

---

---

"Oh, sorry."

"S-sorry!"

"S-'scuse me, sorry; thanks, sorry!"

It was a science, weaving in between crowds of people at great speeds while narrowly avoiding collision and apologising all the while, as if his mere presence were something he needed to atone for.

Lucas Miller squeezed his way past groups of Nomads, media, security, fans and just about anyone else packed into a reception hall because they couldn't wait for the show to begin.

"Are you at the desk yet?" A strangely high pitched but unmistakably male voice rang into the boy's senses from a small earpiece nestled in his left ear.

"N-no, just give me a second." Lucas Miller replied to his father on the other end of the line - "Showtime" Perry Miller - trying not to collide into anyone as he did so.

"Don't take too long, Champ, if ya don't register then they might give your spot to some two-bit who couldn't lace your BOOTS! SOMEBODY WH-"

Perry's voice faded into the void as Lucas turned down the volume on his ear piece, recognising his father was entering "promo mode" and would likely be talking for, minimum, seven minutes without pause. He managed to barely wedge his way past a group of Nomads who appeared to consume a diet solely of protein shakes and forty ounce steaks but beyond them there it was: the front desk. Manned by a clearly uninterested young woman, who signed off bizarre Nomad after bizarre Nomad without so much as looking up at her phone.

"Name?" She bluntly requested, before Lucas was even at the acceptable distance to engage in conversation.

"Uhm. L-lucas Miller. Lucas Tony Miller."

"Nope."

"Uhm. W-what?"

"We have someone named Lucius, someone named Luke and we have a LEWIS Miller, but no Lucas Millers." Her half closed eyes barely seemed to move as she processed all of this information from her computer.

"O-oh… Could you c-check again, maybe?"

Her gaze darted back to the screen for the length of a half-second. "Nope." She confirmed.

"Oh."

They stood there in silence for a few moments, the sounds of every other Nomad and event in the building being sucked out, replaced by the Receptionist’s incessant gum chewing.

"A-are you sure? I, uhm, I've been active for a few years now?" No response. "Uhm, I won the preliminary exhibition at the Philadelphia Invitational?" No response. "Uhh…" his voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, "I was the guy that said "I'm going to Bizby Land””.

The smallest ghost of a smile appeared on the Receptionist's face "Oh yeah." She began tapping on her computer.

"They logged your name wrong. You're all set."

"Thank you."

"How was it, by the way?" She asked, not even looking up from her phone yet delivering what felt like an equal gut punch than any Nomad.

"F-fine, thanks." Lucas muttered under his breath. He shook his head and listened for his dad - who still sounded to be trapped in a web of his own insanity - and was prepared to slink out and hide at the bottom of the stairwell to change like usual, but then…

”I’ve told you vultures that you can fuck right off.”

Time seemed to slow, the rap music pounding from the speakers became more and more muffled, any little girls floating in the air faded to the background.

The witch lady with the shaggy black hair and glasses downed an entire can of go-go juice in one gulp and let out a majestic belch that seemed to echo in the reception hall.

"Wow." Lucas said to himself. He clicked off his earpiece, silencing the ramblings of Perry Miller and, before he even knew it was happening, he was walking towards the witch girl and her bat friend with the thick New Jersey accent.

”Say, we should have a bit more. Y’ever try one’a them hot dogs filled with whipped cream?”

”What, like with a pump or something…?”

"It's actually more like an injection." Lucas butted in, with the confidence of someone who was not Lucas Miller. "They take a syringe of whipped cream and inject it directly into the hot dog. One time I wrapped one in a jelly pancake like a giant burrito, it was pretty sweet."

And just like that, it was over.

"Uhm, s-sorry. I overheard your… I didn't mean to interrupt, I just, I o-overheard, yeah, I- sorry." Both Lucas' confidence and sense of speech began dribbling out with every word. He stopped babbling and inhaled, extending a shaky hand like you are supposed to do when you are normal and can be trusted around normal society.

"M-my name is Lewis- no, Lucas. My name’s Lucas. It- uhm- it's nice t-to meet you..."

---

---

---

"How long is that fool going to take?" Parker Carroway asked, his permanently annoyed expression somehow worsening as he stood out in the Brazil sun - shielded only by a giant new stadium amidst a pornographically poor district.

"He's been in there for at least five minutes!" Patti Buchanan added with a snort. "If he'd sent in the help, we could've just stayed in the car." Her voice dripped with snide contempt as she brushed off some dust from her blouse.

"If he's not here soon then I say we ditch. My throat’s drying up here!" Moaned Darlington (yes, just “Darlington”). He shakes the flask inside his blazer pocket and murmurs something at the rattle of a few miniscule drops of bourbon remaining.

"Fellows!

An opulent young man emerges from the building with a smile as the sun catches his immaculate visage, seemingly sparkling both of his eyes and his teeth like this were some sort of advertisement about the greatest man alive.

"What kept you so long?" Parker demanded, crossing his arms in annoyance - partly out of being mildly startled by Florian Wessington's sudden appearance.

"It's rather frenzied in there at present." Florian sighed. "It would appear someone has commandeered the sound system. It’s quite difficult to even hear one's own thoughts with such a heavy bassline!"

"Did you get them!?" Patti held out her hand.

"Ah! Yes of course! Florian produced four laminated passes labelled "VIP". Technically speaking, they meant very little. Beyond the fact that the group was authorised to use the upper stands and sky boxes in-between their matches for the day. Florian had wanted to see the inside of a "real" locker room but that idea was quickly shot down by the rest.

Patti, Parker and Darlington snatched the passes and fastened them securely around their necks, beginning to feel a bit more at ease now that there was a clearer distinction between them and everyone else. Darlington let out an expectant cough.

"Oh, yes, almost forgot, Darlington! Florian reached into his coat pocket and produced a small bottle of alcohol. Seemingly so expensive that it didn’t even carry any kind of label.

"Much obliged!" Darlington exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and almost immediately gulping down a quarter of it.

"You should pace yourself my friend! It would be unwise to indulge too much before competing against some of the top level competitors in the world!"

“He’s fine!” Parker retorted, pride still wounded at the indignity of being mildly caught unaware. “Now, shall we be going?”

”Indeed! The buffet has just opened, it’s an excellent chance to interface and mingle with some of our fello-...” Florian trailed off at seeing the expressions on his colleagues' faces, as though he’d just asked them to devour a plate of human excrement.

“We’re not going to do that.” Patti flatly stated. “Shoulder to shoulder with those kinds of people would only lower our performances, Florian. We’re going to the nearest yoga spa to limber up and then returning here on the dot for our fights in order to minimise the amount of time spent in this ghetto.” Parker explained, annoyed expression shifting into one of condescension, his other main emotion.

”I disagree!” Florian replied with a smile. ”I think there’s a lot of value in today’s event beyond the spirit of battle and I intend to reap every possible reward from the experience.” Florian almost pirouetted towards the door, such was his grace and drama, ignoring the scoffs of his group as they began vacating the premises

---

---

---

The shift from a mostly sedate sunny day in Brazil to the inside of the World Fighting Carnival, wall-to-wall with Nomads of all sizes and stripes doing all manner of bizarre things, hit Florian with a wall of visual stimulation. Nearly stunning him with the sheer sensory overload. He quickly recovered, naturally, starting to take stock of everything as he sauntered deeper into the hall.

A tall, brown haired person with quick eyes scanned the room, cameras flashed around the recently christened Justice Rider Blaze. Florian considered walking over to introduce himself to the media but decided that to be a bit gauche, they’d come to him eventually.

His attention instead turned to a minor hubbub happening elsewhere, where multiple people began floating in the air to the mild interest of some spectators. Florian had seen flight, of course, but typically it was with the aid of some fantastical construct created by Minerva’s engineering departments. This was more spiritual, more “nomadic”. It made him rather excited about everything, truth be told.

“Bravo!” He said, chuckling while lightly clapping his hands at the sight. With his mannerisms, outfit and general enthusiasm, he looked more like an entertained child than the serious competitor scoping out the competition that he imagined himself as.

---

Beatriz put the ear plugs her mother gave her into her ears as the announcer spoke.

“The last thing you, filha, is tinnitus! Do you want your ears ringing while you fight?” Mami had said, insisting the two plastic plugs into Bea’s reluctant hands. She hadn’t wanted to look uncool in front of the other fighters.

“Ringing before you get hit, anyway, my God, I don't know why you chose this to be your hobby. You’ll put your mother into an early grave with all this.” She had said, kissing Bea on the forehead.

”Sorry, mami.” Bea said, rubbing the back of her head.

“Oh, don’t be sorry, just be yourself. I’ll get over it. You’re a good girl, if anyone could have talked you out of it, you would have listened.” Her mother said.

“...Yeah? I guess that makes sense? I just- I have too. And hey, maybe I’ll even make you proud while I’m at it!”

But now, as Bea tried to subtly slip the plugs into her ears when nobody in this massive room was looking, she felt grateful for them. Because it was really loud in here. Bea is no stranger to loud, but she is a stranger to concerts. That kind of artificial loud that doesn’t come from people talking and fireworks and celebration, but massive speakers placed in every corner in the room.

The lady- with some kind of worm on her head???- announced an open bar and buffet. Well, she was too young for the bar- not that she would want to get drunk anyway. And the last thing she wanted was to eat herself sick on fight day. Instead she used what was available to produce a turkey sandwich, the kind she’s been eating all year. That was the best tactic, Beatriz was sure. Everything had to be perfect if she was going to be in winning condition!

Beatriz sat by herself in the corner, two hands on her sandwich. A t-shirt, some jeans, her backpack. That was it. She was glad she still had her ear plugs in when a wannabe Jaden Raldo got on the mic and started- Beatriz nearly choked when she looked over and saw the real Jaden Raldo rapping on the microphone! What is he doing here?! She thought the ninja rapper thing was just a gimmick! But the guy really was decked out with swords! Is he going to be fighting?! Beatriz was suddenly feeling a little star struck. She’d never gotten a chance to go to any concert before.

It was also nice to see a little familiarity, at least. Because some of the people here, were… unusual. Beatriz knew it wasn’t like this last year. But something about this year was different. Instead of martial artists from all over the world, at least half the people here were total weirdos! Beatriz really had no idea what it could be. Though she had heard people mention the Power Stone… was it drawing people out of the woodwork? This Fighting Carnival was either going to be the strangest, or greatest, it had ever been and ever would be. She supposed she should be thankful. She wanted to meet great fighters, right? well, now she would. All because of a weird rock.

There were interviews happening, people showing off…members of SHINING were here. A bunch of people floating around. Bea was trying her hardest not to feel inadequate or boring in comparison. She thought that being able to create a ball of ki would make her able to keep up with the most extravagant ki using fighters. But now she wasn’t so sure.

“Hey, you, kid.” Someone said. Beatriz startled, almost choking on her sandwich, whirling to see the source of the voice. It was a tone of voice that she had heard all too often, and one she wasn’t expecting to hear here of all places.

”K-ggk- bwuh?” Bea replied eloquently, looking up at the security guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This is for fighters only.” He said. Bea felt heat rush to her cheeks.

”What?!” Bea shouted, hoping she had misheard.

He cupped his mouth. “You’re not supposed to be here! This is for fighters only!”

”I AM a fighter!” Bea shouted back, resisting the urge to punctuate that sentence by punching him to the moon. Though given he was a security guard at a place like this, he was probably tougher than his plastic badge suggested.

He didn’t seem convinced by her statement. “Really? Aren’t you a little young? Where’s your badge?”

”It- it’s in my bag.” She nodded towards it. But she was still holding this sandwich in both of her hands. Do you know how hard it is to look like a badass when you’re holding a turkey sandwich?

She looked around for a place to set down her turkey sandwich. But there wasn’t any. She didn’t bring a plate with her. If she sets it down anywhere, it’s ruined. She could try holding it in one hand? But what if it fell apart? Or slipped off her hand? It was her only option, so she went for it.

Unfortunately, undoing a zipper with one hand is also very difficult. At least it is when you have a ratty ass backpack with loose strings that get caught in the zipper braid. Bea gave it a few tugs.

”Fucking shit-” She swore under her breath.

“Alright kid, that’s enough.”

”Could you just hold my fucking sandwich for two seconds-” Bea said.

“Just pick up your bag and let’s go.” The guard said, firmly taking her by the arm. He was going to do the escort walk thing! Why didn’t she just wear the stupid badge?! She felt like crying!

”No! No, I-” Going against every instinct in her body, she regretfully dropped her sandwich. It plopped against the ground, and she pulled her arm free and descended upon her bag. In her rush, she tore the zipper right off the backpack with a metallic pop.

”See?!” She exclaimed, showing the guard her broken zipper like it was a testament to how strong she was. It ended up just being a testament to how crappy her back pack was.

When she went to dig through her backpack, she realized it was full of crap. Extra clothes, first aid kit, extra lunches, her fighting gear- her lanyard must have sunken into all this! Bea made a very uncool noise of desperation and failure as the guard grabbed her by the arm and began to escort her out. Would it be possible to figure out an alternate solution? Almost certainly yes. But Bea got a twitch in her eye and a glint of intent, and any Nomad here who had been in more than a few fights could tell she was about to start one.

”Maybe I’ll just show you, eh?!” Well, you didn’t need to be a Nomad to figure that part out.

---

---

---

@Zoey Boey

Rosie twisted and turned her way through the crowd, moving quickly and about as unassumingly as a 6’10” genderfluid demon in human form could. There were, of course, already some displays of power starting to literally rise off the floor, but she was looking for an opportunity.

And, like a twisted miracle, one appeared. An overzealous security guard abusing their authority? This would just be karma. Rosie strode forward, sneaking up on the man with a sly, smug, determined confidence that few mortals could hope to replicate.

“Come now, harassing a young woman? You’re better than that…” The man stammered something as Rosie spoke, but he stopped speaking as he met her gaze. His grip on said young woman loosened, already utterly pacified.

“There’s so much young talent stepping up to the plate these days, there’s no sense quashing that over something as silly as a piece of paper. I’m sure she’ll have it ready to go for her first match as long as she doesn’t do anything rash, right?” Her last two words were pointed, obviously not intended for him despite the fact that she never broke eye contact. The man frowned, still slightly suspicious.

“Do you know this kid?” He asked.

“Friend of the family.” Rosie lied, smiling warmly.

There was a pause. The guard sighed, turned around, and vanished back into the crowd, grumbling about rap music. Rosie grinned, holding an ID and a set of keys that she didn’t have ten seconds ago. They disappeared as she turned back to the young Nomad, devilish grin shifting to a warm smile.

“Sorry you had to go through that, angel. Looked like it was quite a close call.” She pulled her brush from her bag and with a flick of the wrist, Bea’s backpack was as if it was never broken.

---

@Drag

It somehow felt as if the air was dead silent as Jasmine slowly grabbed the kid’s hand. A slow, awkward motion ensued.

Until eventually the tension broke, like a dam bursting with hearty laughter.

“This kid, he gets it!” Beelzebub grinned with the smile of a particularly happy shark. “Yer wuninamillion, Lucas!” Jasmine’s handshake became more natural as he laughed.

“Oh,” Jasmine said. “Yeah, it’s cool. Nice to meet you too.” She released Lucas’ hand and paused for a moment as she stared at him. Something was dawning on her.

“Oh shit, wait…”

And then it dawned.

“You’re the Bizby Land kid, right?” Her voice was filled with genuine excitement. “Can we get a selfie? Sign my board, maybe?” She lifted up the skateboard in her other hand. The bottom of the deck was filled with writing. Most prominently were the stenciled on slogans- the classic “This machine kills fascists” and “Nazi punks fuck off.” all across the open space was a variety of signatures. Some recognizable from a couple different scenes, some not. Jasmine looked down at it, and back to Lucas, and blushed, embarrassed as she realized how she might be coming across.

“Sorry, you’re probably really embarrassed about it.” She looked to the side and brushed the hair away from her face, moving it out of its original position for maybe half a second. “That clip, like… it’s weirdly meaningful to me, y’know? I kinda relate to it.”

---

Beatriz’s face softened, her eyes widening as Rosie stepped in on her behalf. Bea was also struck by Rosie’s beauty and…size. Meu Deus, she was nearly two feet taller than Beatriz. She’d never seen someone so tall in person. Much like the guard, Beatriz was immediately pacified, her angry fist unclenching.
The pointed words made her avert her eyes and sheepishly rub the back of her head. The tall lady was right. Beatriz wasn’t sure if she would have actually hit the security, or had just done some show of strength, or if it would have even mattered. Fortunately it looked like cooler heads would prevail, this time. Papi always did say she was a hothead… according to him, the Barro fighting temper skips a generation every time. First it was grandfather, and now it was her.

Beatriz watched as the security guard was warded away, and the tall lady finally turned her attention directly onto Beatriz.

”I guess it was a close call. Th-thanks for savin’ my ass.” She said. ”I really did have- holy shit, my backpack. You fixed that, too? How?” She held the zipper between her fingers in amazement.

”Seriously, thank you!” She began to dig through her backpack. It took a few moments but she finally found her lanyard with ID at the very bottom, where it had wiggled its way past everything the teenager had stuffed in there.

”Found it!” She said, with a nervous giggle. She put it around her neck.

Bea cleared her throat. ”I’m Beatriz Barro. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand out for a handshake. ”This is, uh, my first time fighting at the carnival, but I’m a long time fan. I’m assuming this is your first time because I definitely would have remembered you.” Did that come out wrong?

”I just mean…there’s a lot of unusual people this time around. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”

---

Of the three people, the Indian master had already left this plane of existence consciously at some point, as he tends to get too fully into the zone when his feet lay off the ground and he focuses too hard on innner peace. The Khlystsi was not the sort of person to indulge in sins of the flesh such as pride, and accepting someone's praise for the act of flying wasn't going to get him any salvation.

This left Yazhu, who at first wasn't sure who this rich-looking young man was praising. She figured it was the guy who was whipping himself, as it was a very novel sight. The moment she did realize it, though, she lit up. Her face broke out in a toothy grin, and she hopped down from invisible steps so that she was only slightly above Florian.

"I see at least one person in the crowd who isn't jaded by modern life!" The hermit performed a theatrical bow. "'Yo', as they say. I'm Yazhu Kuang, a very fine practitioner of the Taoist art, and also immortal, which is pretty cool. Most people never get to be immortal, so I say that's a trick on its own."

She extended a hand downward for a shake in the Western style, and then a second hand to roll up her extraneously-long sleeve. "Are you here for the tournament as an observer, young master? Or were your parents okay with you entering as a combatant?"

---

---

---

Lucas gave a small smile as the flying, talking bat relieved the tension and complimented him in the same breath. Though in the back of his mind it did further his desire to get out of this life as he found himself talking to a large orange bat without thinking it was in any way bizarre. It was deeper than that though, there was some sort of link of commonality, like meeting someone you went to High School with but couldn't quite place…

His thoughts (and mild boost of confidence) were broken however as the ever frequent words ran out from the young woman's lips: "Bizby Land". Like a cold splash of water to the senses, it made Lucas barely suppress a cringe, trying not to react too negatively lest it lead to further mockery.

Her insults were different than usual however, they felt more, endearing? Or less malicious? Actually they didn't feel like insults at all as she outright asked for his autograph. Had Perry been on the other-line, he would have literally jumped for joy.

"O-oh it's no problem." Lucas said with a sheepish grin, fishing around in his bag and retrieving a pen - one with a masked luchador atop the end and emblazoned with the words "This Pen Is Mightier Than The Piledriver!!!!". Lucas, shakily, wrote his name as small and out of the way as he possibly could. "T-there's no need to a-apologise." He looked up at her with another little smile. "I g-guess I just never r-really saw it as an inspirational story before."



He took the chance to glance down and scan the other signatures dotting the skateboard. "Jaden Raldo, Renard Bleu, Rodney Lyte, Wal-," His voice heightened ever so slightly "Oh, wow, you met Walter Duncan?"

A small chuckle. Not one of nervousness or in an attempt to diffuse a bad situation, but one of sincere enjoyment.

"S-sorry I don't think I got y-your name. Are y-you competing o-or?" He had enough found confidence to ask the question, but not quite enough to keep the momentum going, trailing off in a way that was painfully trying to seem natural.

---

---

---

For a brief second, Florian was taken aback by the sheer directness of the young woman. He quickly composed himself and let out a chuckle at a pitch so perfect it must have been at least somewhat rehearsed.

He took Yazhu’s hand and held it slightly aloft, as though she were a noblewoman at a gala and not an exceedingly young looking Taoist floating a few inches above him.

”A spot of both, I suppose you could say!” His inflection was vibrant, as though this were some sort of talk show and they were both fated to speak this morning. He released her hand and held both his own behind his back, making him resemble some sort of dignified royal guard. ”I’d hoped to get an idea of some of the competition, events like these are such a… how you say… “melting pot”? There is much knowledge to be gained!”

His head tilted, his smile remaining but with an added touch of sympathy. ”Though I feel I must inform you, there are a few immortals attending these next few days if my sources are correct.” His chipper attitude returned just as quickly as it had left. ”Don’t fret on it however, think of it as a learning opportunity!” He added, not intending to be demeaning but doing little to actually convey as such.

His expression shifted again to one of over-dramatic horror. ”Forgive me! My manners… I have yet to even introduce myself!” He gave a slight bow towards Yazhu, returning upwards with his eyes closed along with an expression of pride and a hand delicately placed on his chest. ”My name is Florian Wessington, fighter, athlete, aristocracy, artiste and heir to the Minerva Defense Logistics corporation and any of its associated holdings. I will be competing in this tournament and have no intention of losing.”

His eyes opened, his smile widened, somehow giving off a glistening sparkle that could blind lesser beings.

”An absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, how might I address yourself?” He beckoned towards her with an open palm, as if passing her the proverbial basketball of conversation.

You know what? This 'Floridian' guy had gotten Yazhu's interest more earnestly. This was all-but the only soul to treat her as the scion of nobility that she technically was in...I dunno, this millennium? His method of touching her hand was scandalous in her time, but hey, it's the modern day. People touch all sorts of things, and in all likelihood, they were liable to meet hand-to-face next time.

She did seem a little put-off by the idea of, once again, being a portrait in a gallery rather than a unique soul, but at least Florian's half-assed attempt to cover it up worked. It didn't seem that this girl was that difficult to sway. "If there are other masters of my craft running around here, then I'll be really surprised. Other immortals? Ha, I suppose they can call themselves that, but no worry. All of the old guys I've seen thus far busy themselves with the normal people kind of martial arts..."

And a good deal of them also knew how to fly...

Yazhu shook her head. With her speaking partner introducing himself, she bowed back at first, before realizing that she already did that earlier. Or is it okay to do it multiple times? She wasn't certain. Yazhu nodded, speaking in reverence towards this young man who had already acquired quite the list of titles. "Oh, Mr. Wessington, I bet it's some kinda good luck to have met you here. The first son of a house, and also a martial artist, and an...aristocracist, and whatever an artiste is it sounds a lot like artist!"

When he smiled, it seemed as if there was a bit of that sparkle reflected in Yazhu's eyes. That had to be some kind of magic! The...the Gold Star Teeth Sparkle Technique! If it existed it probably had a name like that. The "master" of magic was so caught up in that thought that she almost forgot to respond to his question.

"Just call me 'Yazhu' I guess, 'cause it's not like you're gonna go around introducing your family name when everyone in that family's stone cold dead. Rest In Peace them, as they say here!" With a laugh, she didn't seem concerned about this kind of thing like most immortals would be, but hey, maybe that's just a stereotype. "Ahah, oh boy. Anyway, I am a master, but I'm not gonna try coming up with a cool title because then everyone's gonna forget it."

She descended from the air just a little bit further, so that she could raise her head up and look at him with a little hint of pleading. "But...well...you have the, uh, that is, I shall not try to steal any other secret techniques from you because those are real important to hold close to your chest. However," she put both of her hands together and looked up at him like a golden idol, "can you show me how to do the tooth thing?"

---

---

---

@Zoey Boey

Rosie shook Bea’s hand with gentle enthusiasm.

“Rosier Levai,” She smiled. “But you can call me Rosie. And don’t mind the help, it’s the least I could do.” She paused, putting a hand to her chin as she tried to figure out the best way to summarize her situation to someone who had no idea who or what she was. Not that she was afraid of coming out, but it was a big room and she wanted to stay low profile. She could always lie, as easily as she breathed, but Bea was already endearing enough to merit at least a half-truth. A glaring omission of information, even.

“I suppose you could say I don’t spend much time around this side of the scene,” She said with a frown. “I’m usually fighting to pay the bills and support my artistic pursuits. But I’ve been talking with some old friends of mine, and they’ve convinced me to throw my hat in the ring this time. I have to admit, I’m quite interested to see what kind of people are showing up for it these days.” She smiled, and looked back down at Beatriz.

“Speaking of which, what brings such a young spirit into such a big tournament? Fame? Fortune? Perhaps even the stone?”

---

@Drag

Jasmine smiled, a mixture of pride and embarrassment as Lucas read off some of the names on her board. She’d certainly had a few phases. She could tell she was kinda vibing with this guy. Most Nomads were insecure as hell, sure, but in the in-your-face, please-acknowledge-how-powerful-I-am-because-I-can’t-find-validation-anywhere-else sort of way. Lucas just seemed eager to talk about stuff.

And then he asked her her name again. And if she was competing.

“Oh, sorry,” Jasmine’s usual disaffected demeanor started to creep back in. “Jasmine Breicen. I’m not, like, fighting or anything. I only got stuck with the whole magical girl schtick because of some shit from my mom’s side of the family. I’m just sort of tagging along for...” She trailed off and her gaze drifted towards Beelzebub, who was taking full advantage of the bar and buffet meant for people actually competing as his coal-colored gut swelled with a continuous stream of everything the servers could throw at him.

Why was Jasmine here? Because this was a big career opportunity for her sister? Because the two of them hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk ever since she started doing the whole Justice Rider thing? Because it was a good escape from the monotony of college education? Because it was a good escape from the fact that she still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life? These were possible answers that were less being clearly raised in her mind and more swirling around and mixing together like a depressing miasma.

“Uh, just tagging along for now, I guess.”

Two adorable twins were camping in the woods. Their tent was pitched, the rain deflector was up, and they had a table set up with all of their other camping gear on it. Compass, whistles, lanterns, canteens, even a water purifier and a generator was part of their load out. To the uninitiated, it might seem like they had prepared for everything. Though a seasoned camper would find fault with the teenager’s outfits. Their black and white colors were horrible for visibility in the wilderness, and did little to let them spot ticks that might be crawling over their clothes. They were stylish though, and cool. Something that a younger viewer might emulate or respect. They had just finished stacking wood under a small camping pot. It was suspended over the wood from a short cable, which was held by a metal tripod. The boy adjusted one of the sticks under the pot before standing up.

”I guess we light it now.”

”Should we?” The girl used her oversized sleeve to wipe her head, which was dry. ”Dad’s not back from work yet, and mom went to see Auntie May”

”But we’ve got to surprise them!”

With a shrug, the girl walked over to the table and grabbed a big red Jerry can with the words “GAS” written on the side. It was so big in fact, that the girl had difficulty holding onto it. She took three steps before tripping up. ”Oh no!”

The Jerry can flew through the air in a perfect arc and struck the boy in the back. In an incredible display of bad luck, he was trying to light a micro torch and dropped it as soon as he got it lit. The torch flew from his hands and landed in the dry leaves. ”Come on!”

The leaves didn’t catch fire, they instantly ignited. The area around the teenagers were set aflame, trapping the kids in a ring of fire. ”What do we do?” The girl asked, but the boy remained silent. They were way out of their element, and the flames were only getting closer. And the Jerry can was right at their feet...

But when all hope seemed lost, a soccer ball made out of pure ki flew through the flames. Then another, and another. Each time a ball flew past them, more of the flames disappeared. When there was only a single flame left, their savior stomped it out. The savior in question was Daniel Castro. Better known by his fans as…

”Captain Superstar!” The teenagers said at the same time. They immediately ran to either side of him.

"Hey guys! I thought I smelled something cooking, but I wasn’t expecting this!” He looked between the two teenagers.

The teenager’s joy immediately turned sour. The boy pointed at his sister. ”She shoved the torch out of my hands!”

The girl placed her hands on her hips . ”Only because you didn’t help me move it! I knew we should have waited!”

Dan, still smiling, raised both of his hands. "Hey! Fire safety is everyone’s responsibility! You’re a team, and everyone wins if everyone’s safe!”

”You’re right.” The boy looked at his sister and lowered his head. ”I’m sorry, we should have waited.”

”I’m sorry too. I should have asked for help.” With a sigh, she looked back at Dan ”Can you coach us on fire safety?”

"Of course! First, it should go without saying that you should always have adult supervision when starting fires. Beyond that, the best way to stop a fire is to prevent it.” He grabbed a rake that just happened to be within arms reach and started to go around the campfire. "There’s lots of flammable stuff in the wilderness! Fallen branches, dead leaves, and trash can all catch fire. It’s a good idea to make sure that there’s nothing flammable around your camp fire.” He passed off the rake to the boy, and then he reached for a broad metal ring that had a “Fire Poof” logo stamped on the side. "It also helps to have a fire ring around anything you want to burn. Just be careful, as most of them will be hot after a fire has burnt out!”

The sister’s sleeve lit up when she reached for the torch. ”Oh no! I’m on fire!”

"You need to stop, drop, and roll to smother the flames!” While the girl rolled on the ground, Daniel removed his cape and dunked it in a “Fire Poof” marked bucket before throwing it over her. "Then you or a friend should throw a wet blanket or coat over you to finish extinguishing the flames! You should always have a bucket of water on hand to put out fires, but Fire Poof does make some fire blankets when water isn’t available.” After smoothing his cape over the girl, he reached behind his back and handed the boy a fire extinguisher. "Fire extinguishers are also good to have on hand, but you should only spray burning people with them as a last resort. They are best for putting out every other type of fire. Just get one with the proper letter rating!” While the boy blasted the camp fire with the extinguisher, Daniel looked down at the girl. "Are you alright?”

Her eyes were half closed, and a grin spread across her face. ”I’m still a little hot.”

"That’s… Normal.” He stood up, suddenly holding a Fire Poof brand smoke detector in one hand and a smaller extinguisher in the other. "Fires can happen at home, too! Make sure your parents have a smoke detector in every bedroom. Hallways and in front of sleeping quarters are all great places to put smoke detectors. It’s also a good idea to have an extinguisher on every floor, and an extra one in the kitchen. Fire Poof makes an all white extinguisher with a sleek design that looks great on any counter top!”

The boy leaned on the rake and smiled at Daniel. ”Thanks Captain Superstar! I feel a lot safer now!” His sister was hugging Dan’s cape without saying anything.

"Well guys, I’m off to check on the rest of the park. Just remember, when the team wins, everyone wins! And nothing makes a fire poof out faster than Fire Poof!”

…

…

…

Daniel, much like anyone from SHINING, wasn’t going to show up at a fighting tournament without getting a microphone shoved in his face. And if no microphone was involved, an interview would be recorded while a doll faced reporter got the scoop. Complete with cameras flashing and a whirlwind of notes flying off the reporter’s notepad. Dan was dealing with the latter today.

”Alright-my-boy-all-right!” The reporter paced her words like an auctioneer. ”Now-let’s-see-here-Captain-Superstar-let’s-see. You’ve-got-one-hell-of-a-competition-coming-up. It-looks-stiff-it-looks-mean. I-hear-it's-your-first-tourney-Superstar-is-that-true?”

Daniel chuckled. Thankful that it was quiet enough to get covered up by the loud background music. "I haven’t attended something like this before.” Dan kept grinning while looking at the reporter. "It’s not like I haven’t trained with other Nomads though. SHINING is filled with talented nomads and I’ve been able to spar with a few of them. But there’s a lot of talented people here, and I’m just happy to be a part of it all.”

”And-the-stone-my-boy-you’ve-got-to-have-a-plan-for-the-stone!”

"You can’t expect to win the first time you do anything, but!” Dan’s grin got just a bit bigger. "I’ve already decided that whatever I win is going to charity, so if I get the stone, I'll auction it off and donate the proceedings.”

”Alright-boy-fair-is-fair. Just-one-last-question-if-you-please-you-mentioned-SHINING-you-think-you-and-the-Justice-Riders-are-going-to-fight? You-gunna-whoop-them-boy-or-do-they-intimidate-you?”

Dan shook his head. "I haven’t sparred with them before, but I respect them as heroes of justice. I’d be honored to face them in an arena like this.”

”Thanks-boy!Thanks!” She gave his hand a vigorous shake before blending into the crowd like a ninja. But Dan could only exhale once they left him alone.

The room felt alien to Dan. He lived in Mexico, America, and even Brazil for just the past week, but this didn’t feel like any of them. People from all over the world had come together taking their culture and beliefs with them. There were no two people who were alike, and the only thing they shared were that they were all nomads. Without cameras to pose in front of or a reporter to impress, he felt lost. There were no familiar faces that he could see, and he figured the ones he did know were still getting interviews of their own. He was attending a costume party where he didn’t know most of the guests. Dan’s manager was right: There was nothing quite like the atmosphere at the fighting carnival.

A testament to this was the fact that there was a blond girl, decked out with a crazy number of swords and scrolls, climbing under a table cloth with a chicken wing in her hand. He didn’t know what to make of that, but it wasn’t like it was the weirdest thing he had seen today.

_{@Punished GN}

He found himself approaching a garbage can. A small part of Dan just wanted to climb inside it and hide. It looked to be empty, but there was something small at the bottom. His curiosity got the better of him and pulled up the object in question.

"A drumstick?”

A chicken drumstick to be precise. He couldn’t understand why someone would throw away good food after taking a single bite. The soccer player looked over his shoulders to see if anyone was eyeing him before taking a bite himself. And… Yea, it was a little ‘meh’ when compared to how it looked. A bit too much breading, and it was dry. But it wasn’t the worst thing he had to eat, and it was wasteful to throw away. It didn’t seem like its former owner was going to finish it, so Dan did before dropping the bones back into the garbage.

Hopefully no one saw that.

And it was likely that nobody did, as someone had invited themselves up on stage and was singing to everyone who could hear them. That was pretty much everyone. Dan couldn’t even say if he enjoyed it or not because of how loud it was. He found himself holding his hands over his ears as the deep base of Number One Ninja felt like it was reverberating inside his rib cage.

A tap on the shoulder brought him to his senses, and a girl in a baseball cap stood in front of him. She waved him to come closer and walked to the edge of the stage.

"Huh? What do you need?” But the girl didn’t say anything. She stepped behind one of the speakers and held out a black cable. Dan hadn’t gotten any verbal cues from the woman, but felt like she wanted him to hold the cable. As soon as it was in his hand, she ducked behind the massive speaker and was out of sight. Just a few seconds later…

Static.

Every speaker in the room hissed for a few seconds before going silent. There were some sparks and smoke coming from the back of the speaker, and Daniel looked to make sure the woman was okay. But in looking behind the speaker, he could see that she must have swapped one of the power wires and one of the sound wires to blow out the speaker system. But the woman herself was nowhere to be found. Aside from a single chicken wing, there was no evidence anyone had been back here.

When Dan pulled his head out from behind the speaker, there were a few concerned people looking at him. He met their gazes, then looked to the speaker, and finally at the cable he held in his hand. The power wire that was used to fry the speaker system.

"Uh…” He forced a smile before dropping the cable. "How about that, huh?”

---

Oriko, or Oros the Swift as she was known in costume, lifted the table cloth. She crawled out, stood up, and dusted herself off, and adjusted her scrolls. If there was one thing she didn’t like about her current setup, it was that all the artifacts she carried around made it hard to crawl through narrow spaces. Though to be fair, crawling wasn’t something she wanted to be doing.

In such a loud and crowded room, the speakers burning out didn’t concern a lot of people. This was a group of nomads, and if some speakers were going to scare them off, they didn’t belong in a competition like this. Not that Oriko had any love for this venue. It was a bit like a Wal-mart in that it seemed to attract weirdos regardless of its location.

_{@CaliforniaState}

And speaking of weird, you couldn’t get much stranger than a drinking competition taking place among a group of nomads. Oriko was baffled why so many people would spend money to get here, only to then drop out of an annual contest because they got hammered before a fight. Or maybe they thought they could win drunk off their ass? It was deplorable. Moreover, did no one find it weird that the skinny bitch had somehow managed to out drink everyone? But that was nomads in a nutshell. Every single one of them had their reputation to uphold, and yielding to anything but the bell or a knockout was out of the question. Despite how Oriko might have felt about the event, it did intrigue her. Especially since the current “champion” was oriental like herself. Technically Oriko was only half oriental, but who cared where her blood came from?

Oriko didn’t ask how much she had to bet or even who was next in line. She shoved her way through the crowd until she came to the wood table. At one side was the champion, at the other, a pile of defeated bodies. She used her foot to shove the last bastard off of his chair before looking at her seating arrangement. She stripped one of the men of their shirts and used it to wipe down her side of the table before casting it off to the side. Then Oriko turned her seat backwards and sat in it. It was an undignified way for a lady to sit, but the giant scrolls on her back made it impossible to seat herself any other way.

There were some annoyed murmurs from the guys that wanted to go next, but there was also a lot of interest in how long this other girl would last before she joined the pile of sleeping bodies. She reached into one of her sleeves and pulled out a ceramic sake cup. It was only a little taller than a shot glass, but it was considerably wider. She had to pour three shot glasses into it just to get it full. Once she was done, Oriko cupped her hands around the cup and lifted it to her lips. The positioning was weird. The back of the chair was between her arms, and she was so short she had to rest her chin on the backrest. But after a few seconds, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and turned her cup upside down. Not a single drop came out.

After setting her sake cup beside three empty glasses, she reached into her sleeve again. "Where I come from, we don’t sip our swill from a glass chalice.” She pulled a second sake cup out of her sleeve and shoved it across the table. It came to rest just a few inches away from the edge of Rui’s side of the table.

---

---

---

Florian let his eyes shut with a smile of contentment as the girl heaped praise upon him, listing off his accolades one after the other - even Florian himself forgot the depth of skill in his resume at times, it was nice to have a reminder.

His self-satisfied expression faltered as she went on to describe the demise of her own family, not that the young woman, who revealed herself as “Yazhu”, appeared to mind much - perhaps she’d come with a chaperone? It was odd, she spoke similar to and shared mannerisms with that of nobility yet was remarkably… irreverent? Nonetheless, Florian put a hand to his chest and lowered his gaze slightly.

”I am sorry to hear the fate of your family, for what it’s worth.” Which was not much, admittedly, especially when Florian’s tone was often viewed as insincere largely due to trying so hard to avoid sounding insincere. What didn’t help was him perking right back up as she laughed and began to delve into her own skills. ”Should you change your mind regarding a memorable moniker, please don’t hesitate to get in touch, I count the art of branding among my many skills!”

She needn’t have asked, Florian was always more than happy to lend his considerable skill and resources to those who so desperately needed it. Which was why his sympathetic smile and quizzical tilt of the head returned at Yazhu’s request.

”I would so love to help, but… I haven’t the slightest idea what you refer to. Tooth thing?” Another haughty-sounding chuckle as he ran a gloved hand through one of his fringes. There it was again! Like a shower of sparkles fluttering off a diamond’s edge.

”Ah, but enough jesting, Yazhu!” Saying her name so casually was a confidence technique apparently, breeding friendly familiarity while still establishing a self-assertive demeanour. ”You are a master you say? Perchance you would permit me some knowledge of what your mastery is? I wouldn’t be so bold as to request a demonstration before the big event, but it would be marvellous to learn the theory behind your techniques!"

---

---

---

It was all over. It was all falling apart. Stupid Lucas and his stupid mouth. “What’s your name?”, “Are you competing?” What kind of fucking moron asks something like that!?

It was clear to him that Jasmine’s previously guarded manner had crept back in - even if only slightly - enough for paranoid overthinking kicked back into overdrive. What didn’t help was the mention of her mother. Lucas had virtually zero experience with magical girl or demonic affairs but he certainly knew family troubles. It affected him just as it clearly was affecting her. She was moving inward, troubling herself with issues that, even if they could be helped, Lucas was very much not the person equipped to do it - least of all in the middle of a packed hall of maniacs.

So he did the only thing he could do, the life-honed Miller technique.

The self-sabotage.

”C-cool.” Was all he said in response to her merely tagging along. ”I-I’m sorry I asked that. His tiny mind was eroding, drowning in a sea of neurotoxin. ”I’m s-sorry to hear about the family s-stuff.” The fighting carnival had yet to even begin, and Lucas Miller had already lost. ”I-I’m sorry I said cool.”

His head bowed, like a flagellant nomad preparing to rip the flesh from his back with a cat-of-nine-tails as penance for existing. Truthfully, even Lucas wasn’t normally this self-critical, but he was too taken aback by his attraction for the girl, placed too much stake into a halfway civil conversation and ultimately when it hit the most minor of stumble it completely took him out. He didn’t want to be talking anymore, he wanted the ground to swallow up his body along with all collective memory that he’d even existed.

”I-I-I have to go.” His delivery was more subdued, difficult to hear over everything else in the room along with the quickening of his speech. ”U-uh-I ha-have to g-got-go get ready f-for, the m- mmm…” Mumbling turned to near whispering, his pace became even further frantic. ”itwasnicemeetingyouJasmineseeyouaroundsorryagain, sorry!”

Then he turned in the stiffest one hundred and eighty degree manner anyone would likely ever see and began darting off into the crowd. He began turning the volume back up on his earpiece, letting his Father’s bombastic personality be a sound of comfort as he tried to disappear into the crowd.

---

---

And nobody replied as the room seemed more annoyed with Jaden than anything. Well, that was lame. These fighters were all a buncha fuckin' squares, I swear! Jaden thought to himself as nobody was bouncin' or partying! And if things couldn't get worse; the fuckin' music cuts off! Jaden turns around to see some scrub holding the wire. Obviously, this dickhead decided to be a hater and unplug the whole ass speaker system, Jaden bared teeth as he didn't even so much as look at him.

Jaden disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

^"Ninja."

... Before reappearing right in front of Daniel. "Hey! What's the big idea, dickhead! Can't you see I'm preformin' here!?"

---

---

@Kamen Evie

When you are the strangest one, hiding in plain sight is easy!

Auri Auclair as she called herself "Oh-Seven" wouly attract the attention of her adversary, Oh-One, who merely sat at the bar drinking a caipirinha (a Brazilian drink she couldn't getet intoxicated but she had to blend in). She held the glass with her metallic hand and with her more fleshy hand she held the straw - her eyes glow blue as she discretely activated Scan-Mode. There was a lot of fighters here but she was confident that she could beat them - she didn't get fatigued after all. There were a lot of notable fighters here: the heir to Minerva, Jaden Raldo (who was a wanted criminal)... Justin Haggar. She swore that the newest Hatanaka was around here somewhere, hopefully not fighting. Most notably of course was Jill Brecian, better known as Justice Rider Blaze. There was so much easily obtainable information about her and so little about the other fighters, so she'll just have to gather it herself.

[i]PERHAPS[/iItit would be a good idea to introduce herself and maybe warn her about the impending threat of Oh-One. Win or lose, she was probably the only one that could help Oh-Seven defeat Oh-One. She placed her drink down and got up and began to walk over to Jill...

"... Where are you going, sweetheart?" Oh-Seven heard a feminine voie, and turned her head to see a half-naked woman in a white coat, legs covered in tattoos and wearing a thong. She was sitting down with her massive arms stretched across the bar counter. She grabbed the drink that Oh-Seven just put down, and her hands stretched out to Oh-Seven and said, "You didn't even finish your drink."

"Leave her alone, Violet," The man next to Violet said, he wore a suit and had obvious cybernetics, but Oh-Seven activated her Scan-Mode again and deduced who he was.

"... Captain Cole," Oh-Seven said,

Captain Cole cracked a wry grin as he leaned forward and put both hands together, fingers interlocked as he said, "In the flesh. Here to personally compete."

"They let you in here?" Oh-Seven said.

The two of them laughed as Captain Cole said, "They let EVERYONE in here, sweetheart. I've competed in every Fighting Carnival..."

"There's a massive bounty on you, I think I may claim it right now!" Oh-Seven noted.

"You don't want the heat, but here's the fun part about that," Captain Cole responded as he took a swig of his rum... he wiped his mouth and then said, "You see... there's a lot of criminals here. Lotta..." He finger quoted, "'Heroes', too." He tilted his head in the direction of Jill.

"You see, everyone loves a good villain, and they love to see the 'hero' stop the villain," Captain Cole said, "That's why every other Fighting Carnival had all sorts of criminals. I'm pretty certain when I leave here with the Power Stone, MAVERICK's little commando and sorceress will be right there waiting for me..."

He laughed as he nonchalantly waved his hand, "But, I dealt with them before, they're not as tough as they look. But, I have an offer for you..."

"There's nothing you can offer me - you don't even know me," Oh-Seven placed a hand on her chest as she spoke.

"No, listen," Captain Cole said, "I know more about you than you think-" His robotic eye flashed yellow as he continued, "-How about a spot with the Cole Pirates? At least with us, you know the Power Stone will just be another trinket in my... collection."

"No thank you," Oh-Seven answered, "I'm afraid I need help from one of the-" With a catty smile, Oh-Seven finger quoted, "-'Heroes'." She said as she slowly moved away towards Jill.

Captain Cole took another sip of his rum, "See you out there..."

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That was odd... Oh-Seven got the feeling that those two knew a bit more than what they let on - but how could they know about her? She was a stranger! Nobody would even know if she was a machine if things went well, but she had no choice but to press on. If anything, Jill Brecian wouly help her - or at the very least know somebody that could - with Oh-One. However, there was a crowd of people around Jill - most concerningly the cameras. Oh-One was everywhere, but long as she left long before he got here - she would be fine. She activated Scan-Mode and noticed that the cameras had cut off because of the music and Jill went into the crowd.... which was the perfect opportunity for her.

Oh-Seven discretely maneuvered her way through the crowd of people as she intentionally put herself in the path of Jill. She appeared to absentmindedly look around, as she just "accidentally" bumped into Jill.

"Oh! I'm sorry..." Oh-Seven said before she smiled and feigned a type of excitement by opening her eyes and having the stupidest smile on her face. She jumped up and down and clapped her hands as she said, "JILL BRECIAN, I AM YOUR BIGGEST FAN!" She almost damn near shouted as she extended a hand.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Oh-Seven said using her inside voice and extending her hand, "I am Auri Auclair, and I will be fighting in the tournament this year."

A pale finger was thrown at him, and Yazhu immediately parroted "The Tooth Thing!" It was legitimately right there, and she didn't see how he didn't see it. Wouldn't he be blinded by his own star-like sparkle? It was right below his eyes after all, and...and this time it wasn't even on his teeth, he just sort of glittered whenever it was convenient!

Now, this would be an incredible step forward for the science of Taoist magic everywhere if she could divine its origin and function, and to do that, she would need to articulate her need and her intent.

"The--it's not a tooth thing, it's more like a--pa-jiiin kind of...all over, and when you did the thing with your hand you, uhh."

Yazhu, master of dialects, rested her case. It would be up to Florian to catch what she was throwing him.

Though, the ascension of the arts could wait. When called upon to show mastery, Yazhu's eyes lit up, her hands stretched out...and her smile became way too smug for its own good. "Why, Master Florian, I couldn't possibly discuss the technique behind these incredible, unbelievable skills of mine. Do you see the crane reaching out to the poet and asking him what meter is? No, the crane tends to the ponds and the skies, and the poet to the mind and the brush. Their two worlds are separate, even if they live in the same one. They can wonder and imagine the other, but their frames of reference are so wholly disparate that they'd never truly be able to step foot into the other for even a moment. Like that, you would never understand the technique of a hermit's arts without being one yourself."

"...but I can sure as heck SHOW YA some cool stuff!" she shouted, immediately contrasting the slightly profound thing she just said with great energy. "Watch, from my sleeve will issue forth the great weapon of my own creation!"

She stepped foot on the ground and spread her stance, before leaning to one side and shooting one arm out. Her voluminous sleeve bulged outward, and suddenly a heavy stone hit the carpet with a loud thud - this stone was evidently painted to resemble that Taoist swirly symbol thingy, whatever that's called. Yin-Yang, right?

"A Dao Bomb!" She them held out both arms and wiggled them by the bomb to showcase the amazing magical incendiary device. "Our competition is bringing fists and boots to our fights - I will be bringing EXPLOSIVES! Magical explosives! I checked with the tournament organizers and they okayed it!"

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”All right, Rosie!” Bea said cheerfully. ”I guess I should say my friends call me Bea.” She said. She wouldn’t mind any half-truths or omissions- they were just strangers, after all. Beatriz believed in being nice to strangers, not divulging all your life secrets to them in two seconds.

”Pay the bills, huh? Maybe I should show you to my auntie. She’s convinced this ain’t gonna make me no money.” She says with a little laugh. ”Yeah? It’s, uh, quite a crowd.” Beatriz said. Rosie didn’t exactly fit what Beatriz pictured as a ‘fighter’ herself, being a seven foot tall…painter? Definitely with the ‘artistic pursuits’ and that little artist hat. Beatriz stared at the hat. What was that thing called? The name escaped her.

At Rosie’s question, Bea grinned sheepishly and rubbed her arm. ”What, me? I- uh. Y’know. Money? Would be nice. Who doesn’t like money?” She asked rhetorically.

”Or, uh. Fame would be pretty good. People knowin’ I’m good. And there’s lots of strong fighters here, so, a good chance to get better. ” She said. Though, clearly, she was fumbling. The true reason escaped her still.

”And, y’know, it might be fun?” She shrugged, with a final wincing smile and raise of the eyebrow. Self-conscious, she face palmed for a moment.

”And the stone, I don’t know about that stone. I don’t see how a little fuckin-” She makes a half-hearted gesture with her thumb and index finger, like she was holding the stone. ”I don’t see how a little rock could make anyone stronger. The idea of picking up a rock and suddenly being better almost- it almost bums me out for some reason.” She says.

Then she glanced over at the ongoing drama, having been too busy talking to participate in any saying of ‘Ja’ or ‘Nin’ or otherwise. Jaden was getting mad at some pink man.

”Uhh…man, whatever.” She looks back at Rosier. ”What the fuck is that thing on your head called? That hat? That painter hat?” She points up at it, and then snaps her fingers, a puzzled look on her face. ”Like, ra ra, reh..raaa, somethin’. Raa somethin’.”

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@Punished GN

Jill bobbed and weaved her way through the crowd with nervous ease. She felt boxed in, and found herself deeply preferring that she’d be out on the road right now, with tons of space and fresh air. Where could that girl have ran off to? She sure had a knack for getting in trouble-

The wayward rider’s train of thought came to an abrupt stop as she collided with another woman. She gasped, stumbled back a bit, and blushed. Partially because she was so embarrassed about not even looking where she was going, and partially because this lady was, by her estimation, rather pretty! Jill successfully managed to cram every awkward feeling into an out of the way corner of her mind as she watched her biggest fan get excited. She shook her hand with the kind of casual handshaking expertise you had to practice for.

“Pleased to meet’cha, Auri!” Jill smiled. “But I guess you already know me, huh? Pretty cool that I might see a friendly face in the ring!”

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Jasmine had only a sigh to offer up in response. There was probably some really deep thought to be had about the hedgehog’s dilemma, but she wasn’t in the mood to finish it. Beelzebub flapped over and said something completely unintelligible through a mouthful of chicken; meat, bones, wrappers and all.

“Yeah,” Jasmine said. “At least I got that signature.” The Prince of Gluttony swallowed. He had already eaten at least three times the volume of his entire body, and still maintained the same amount of fuzzy pudge.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll see ‘im again sooner or later.” Beelzebub stopped to lick his lips clean. “Say, I know what’ll cheer ya up! Y’never got one a them hot dogs!” Jasmine shrugged and called out her bizarre little order, pulling another energy drink from her pack.

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@Zoey Boey

Rosie could tell that she hit a nerve. It was understandable, especially at Bea’s age. Though the devil had long since embraced the winds of change as a way of life, that wasn’t always the case, and she could recognize the curse of uncertainty.

Still, she said nothing, only smiling and occasionally nodding understandingly. The thing about growing up is there aren’t any magic words you can say to make it happen. At least, not right away. Bea definitely had a good head on her shoulders if she didn’t trust the Power Stones, at least. As far as Rosie was concerned, those things were poison. Always best to hand the hot potato off to someone else before any of the major players even knew you had it. Preferably for a tidy sum, if possible.

Beatriz, for her part, picked a fantastic change of subject: Her beloved hat.

“Oh, this?” She took the article off its perch so Bea might have a better look at it. “It’s called a beret. You don’t necessarily need to be an artist to wear them, but I suppose it suits the image.”

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“-and that’S THE BOTTOM LINE! ‘CAUSE “SHOWTIME” SAID-!”

The voice of Perry Miller rose again like a shrill phoenix as Lucas Miller turned his headset back on to the continued mania of his father. It was comforting nevertheless distracting the boy from his insecurities.

”Dad!” Lucas half-yelled and half-whispered down the headset, snapping his father out of his stream of consciousness promo.

”Oh! Luke! Are you all set now?!” Perry had the fascinating ability to deliver even the most innocuously intended statement or question sound like it was being delivered to an arena full of people. Thankfully, his son was more than used to it by now.

”No, Dad. Fights should be opening up soon though.” Lucas replied, scanning the events of the reception hall while weaving in and out of nomad traffic. His rhythm was interrupted as he saw the commotion of reporters drift away, leaving behind their former target: Jill Breicen. Free from the shackles of the media, she seemed now to be entertaining an energetic blonde young woman, shaking hands and exchanging plea-.

Wait.

Jill Breicen.

Jasmine Breicen…

Lucas let out a low groan, the kind that could only be replicated by a seventy year old with decades of being worn down by the world.

”What’s up, Champ?” Perry asked over the headset, in a rare moment of picking up on his son’s feelings.

”I think I might have made some powerful enemies…” Lucas responded, wearily. His strategy to life had been to expect and accept the worst case outcome to anything and everything, no matter how fueled by paranoia or unlikely it may be.

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Pa-jiiin thing?

Florian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Could there truly be abilities unique to him that even his brilliant mind had yet to pick up on? He chuckled to himself. Truly! Entering this tournament was already paying off in terms of experience!

His self-aggrandising thoughts momentarily distracted him as he was confronted by Yazhu’s own self-aggrandising commentary. She was more than happy to talk up her skills, no stranger to it himself (and being woefully naive) Florian was rather impressed by her description and imagery. Enough so that it was a shock to his senses when the girl immediately dropped from erudite to irreverent in promising to show him some “cool stuff”. Namely, one.

A Dao-Bomb

Florian once again held a hand to his chin and inspected it, face inches away from its surface.

Fascinating!

”Now, you say bomb…” One eye squinted, like a gemologist inspecting every curvature of a particularly precious stone. He leaned back up, his inspection complete. ”Is it not just a large rock?

His confusion was sincere, before giving way to “understanding”. He laughed, of course she would not be so bold as to drop a “bomb” in the middle of a crowded hall of fighters. He applauded once more.

”Playing your cards close to your chest still, I see! I am disappointed I must concede but; I respect your stratagem!” He held out his arm, an ornately designed gauntlet resting over his white glove and beginning to hum slightly with green energy. ”I am assured of my victory to such an extent that I have no issue displaying my own skill, if you would permit my indulgence? I am, at the lowest, greatly experienced in several forms of martial arts and a proficient master of many more!” A haughty little chuckle, ”In fact! Such was my skill that many of the trainers we hired were forced to leave prematurely due to me mastering their lessons in such a short time!”

A dramatic flourish as he moved his gauntleted arm close to Yazhu for her to inspect.

”However I’ve had troubles with my ki failing to reach the standards of the rest of my abilities…” A rare tinge of sorrow in the normally unflappable voice of Florian Wessington. Snuffed out in under a second as he continued with confident determination. ”But, no matter! This device enhances my ki to the level it should be at, until such time as my natural talent rises and cultivates to meet my standards!”

How marvellous it all was! He had not been indulged in a discussion of this depth by anyone until Yazhu, he was having such a wonderful time talking about himself that he failed to notice the unexploded and still very much active Dao-Bomb behind him slowly beginning to roll forward, away from the pair.