Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Nexus Prime
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Nexus Prime Alpha & Omega

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AQUAGIRL




Her eyes snapped open as she awoke from her forced slumber. Immediately the young woman scanned her surroundings, taking note of the newest situation she found herself in. The first thing that caught her attention was the sphere around her. Some sort of red bubble that was large enough for her to stand within, but prevented her from moving further than her current position. A cautious hand reached out to press against the bubble. Surprisingly warm to the touch, it gave no leeway as she pushed against it with her finger tips. Flattening her palm against the surface she used more of her strength, determining just how sturdy her most recent prison was. As she did so, a connection in her mind clicked; her strength, it had returned. She brought her hands up quickly to her neck, searching for the unwanted accessory that was no longer there. This was new; ever since she had been brought to this strange world she had been forced to wear some sort of collar that had neutralized her abilities. But now, for the first time in over a month, they had removed it. Whomever they were.

Lorena Marquez, otherwise known as the hero Aquagirl, was not a native of this world. While back home she had been a noble force for truth, and justice alongside her King and savior, Orin, here she was nothing more than a captive like so many countless others. On her first night here, Lorena had overheard one of her jailers mention the newest batch of slaves had arrived from a different dimension. At first, she had believed this to mean she was in Xebel - an aquatic world much like her own, existing in a separate dimension, in which her Queen, Lady Mera, had been born - but none of the guards Lorena had seen during her time here, nor the scientists who had poked and prodded her during her first week had been of Xebel origin. In fact, all those she had encountered thus far had appeared, in many ways, to be of alien design unlike anything she had ever known before. Overtime, it had become evident to her that she was much further from home than she had previously thought. That, however, would not stop her from escaping and finding her way back to Atlantis and her King, of that she was sure.

Lor, in her role as Aquagirl, had been praised for her calm reasoning and deductive mind, and she used those aspects now as she focused on her current situation. She could remember, albeit hazily, the last moments she was lucid for before she woke here, in this strange, bubble-like cage. A woman, if you could call her that considering the striking silver hair, masculine armor, and four additional limbs she had possessed, had come to Lorena in her cell. It was the first time she had seen this person since being taken, but it was clear from how the guards had given the armored woman a respectable berth, and from how she had carried herself that she was of considerable importance.

"Stand, slave," the woman had told Lor then. "You have been determined to be of sufficient worth to compete in today's event. Your costume will be returned to you as the viewers take delight in seeing your pretty little outfits stained with blood." She said this last bit with a smirk, referring to Lorena's Atlantean armor she wore as Aquagirl, originally taken from her when she had first been abducted.

The six-armed woman continued in what seemed to be an explanation she gave fairly often. "You will be taken to the coliseum where you will face three of your fellow slaves in combat. Those heroic sensibilities your kind seem to so strongly admire will not serve you in your new life. If you wish to survive long, abandon them. But, whether you perish or not is of no consequence, so long as you entertain."

Then the woman had turned to the guards that accompanied her, speaking in a language Lorena did not understand, and the last thing she could recall was a sharp sensation as needles from her slave collar sunk into her skin and injected her with a tranquilizing agent of some sort.

Lorena looked down at herself, her full wits now again with her, noticing that she had been garbed in her Aquagirl costume, as was promised. It seemed her captors, this silver haired woman, wanted her to compete in a death match for their amusement. They believed that after a month of invasive tests and isolation that she would be subjugated to follow along with their sadistic intentions like a good little sheep. They were fools. Lorena Marquez, Aquagirl, adopted daughter of the great King Orin of Atlantis and ruler of the seas, was no one's sheep. They would not herd to the slaughter, and they could not force her to abandon her honor no matter their methods.

Accepting that there was no immediate way of bypassing the spherical field that bound her - and it was clear to her they would release her eventually for their cruel gladiator match to begin - she looked past the transparent bubble at what awaited her. She stood, it seemed, on a raised pillar some couple hundred feet above the ground, granting her a great sight line of the arena she had been placed in. It looked to be a large box-like structure with immensely tall walls leading up to a domed roof. The walls, which Lorena estimated to be of about a mile in length, curved out slightly, and they appeared to be metallic in nature. Rustic and clunky, Lor made note that they may provide a potential escape should she be able to locate a section in the wall with a crack or some other structural weakness.

Aside from the building itself, there were ruins beneath and ahead of her, spreading across the entire arena as far as she could see. She was too far off from them to be sure, but the various statues and pillars, broken and worn down, seemed to be comprised of both stone and metal. There was sparse vegetation she could spot, tangling itself around some of the structures below. They, too, looked to be alien in nature, further leading her to believe that perhaps her captors were indeed extra-terrestrial. Although she had never encountered any, she had heard tales from her King that there had once been a handful of alien protectors on Earth, before her time. It was not an entirely improbably concept, she decided.

Off in the distance a red object caught her notice. In the corner directly opposite of where Lorena's own pillar was located she could just make out the faint hue of another bubble. Though she could not distinguish whether or not someone was inside, she was sure it held one of the three other captives the woman had mentioned. A quick glance to her right and left strengthened this theory as she could make out two similar red shapes atop pillars on both sides.

Once this game of theirs begins, I must be careful, she thought. Although I refuse to participate in their savagery I cannot be sure the others will not. Nor do I know what they may be capable of.

Lorena considered that, perhaps, the other three were fellow Atlanteans abducted along with her, but she had been alone when she was taken, and the woman had clearly mentioned costumed heroes brutalizing one another was of particular enjoyment here. Lor knew of no other hero on her world who wore what could be considered a costume, beside her King and Lady Mera, all others had been wiped out during the Great Catastrophe, and she refused to believe that anyone was capable of capturing either of those two. No, Lorena figured that, if she were right about her captors being aliens, the other prisoners here with her were likely also taken from different worlds. If Earth had costumed heroes, she saw no logical reason why other planets with empowered beings would be any different.

Before she could ponder more on this, however, the sphere began to glow a deeper shade of red, pulsing and flashing alongside the sound of a loud buzzer. A countdown for the start of their intended death match, it seemed. Lorena took a step back to steady herself as the pillar shook with a resounding rumble, and lowered itself closer to the ground, though it still stopped at least fifty feet short of the surface. The red force field that had been containing her faded away quickly, allowing her freedom of mobility once more.

For the first time since she had been forcibly taken one month ago, Lorena was capable of moving about as she pleased, no longer cooped inside one cramped cage or another. And, although she wasn't entirely and truly free from captivity, as she leaped off the pillar and to the ground she had but one thought on her mind: escape.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by ErsatzEmperor
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ErsatzEmperor Polemically Sent

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Running diagnostics. Gap in memory suggests physical trauma to the head or an active chemical agent. High levels of foreign compounds in blood indicate latter. Brain activity is up. Muscles, relaxing. Blood concentration returning to normal.

The body lay across the floor of their glowing red cage begins to shudder, shook awake as the last of the sedatives and the neuroleptics wear away. Having an alien scarab with the ability to regulate the body's functions could really come in handy some days.

"Nice, uhh. Nice to see you too." The occupant yawns with a tired smile, worn as it was. Shaking herself awake, she notes the looseness around her neck.

Collar that suppressed neural link was removed between induced sleep and current place. Connection now reestablished but Cassandra Lang is weak. Blood sugar and body fat are concerning. Suggestion: search for a new host.

Cassie sits up, scouring her blonde, matted hair with a tingling hand and a dumbfounded look.

"Terrible suggestion. Assuming that that's off the table..." She asks, equal measures perturbed and enthusiastic, as her eyes begin to gravitate to the red energy field surrounding her, and her hand continues to wander. Pinching down, she pulls out a particularly damaged hair from her untended scalp and brings it close to her face. She looks at it for a moment, before refocussing.

Pause and collect.

"Inspiring. You know your real calling is clearly motivational speaking. You are so wasted with me"

Agreed.

Cassie smirks, stretching her leg out from her seated position, her other foot mooring her as she attempts to get up. Having already caught a few glimpses of the amphitheatre below, she suddenly feels all the more exposed. Her arms move guardedly to her torn attire in an effort to preserve modesty. The ruined architecture jutting from the floor gives her a pang of unease as she struggles on her feet.

If you are set for us to continue on with this faulty host, it would be logical to rest.

"Concern now? What's wrong with you today? Usually you're the one getting me hurt. Seriously. It's like it's your job." While a gratuitous smile does invade Cassie's lips, she does take a moment to comply with the scarab's request and gently takes a knee. "Anyone else might think you were softening up, bugsuit."

Two months is a long time to have only yourself to talk to.

Cassie's expression softens a little. Her thoughts linger on the unrelenting solitude she had faced during her internment. Those thoughts threaten to linger a little too long, before she shakes herself out of it.

"Hear, hear. Amen to that." She smiles, stopping. Her eyes optimistically fix on the mechanisms surrounding their prison bubble, following the wall of energy down to a sturdier looking wall made of a shinier and far more solid looking material. Its bulk was intimidating while wholly impressive but they'd broken through tougher looking she thought.

"What are you making of all of this?" A silence draws as she becomes aware of her other, hard at work.

This would seem to be the arena the cyborg supporting the multiple appendages --

"-- Arm-Freak-Lady."

...The arm freak lady briefed you on before you passed out of consciousness. Not unrelated, you will be pleased to know that my access to your memories has been restored."

"Can't have you slumming around my brain without you knowing my private thoughts and desires now can I?" She smirks, relieved at least that her sense of humour had survived the beatings and torture. Incidentally, she hoped nobody had been taping her during all of that. She really wasn't at her best.

I fail to see the relevance of our captors --

"Shush. We need to focus on finding a way out of here." Feeling a little sharper, she hesitantly finds her feet again, standing loosely but with conviction. Shuddering but with some force, she extends her arms to the force field. At their touch, she draws back sharply as a short burst of pain hits her fingers.

Caution: energy field likely to be engineered to inflict pain during interaction with organic material.

Sucking the tip of her index finger, she scowls.

"You seriouslyneed to work on your timing." The pain begins to ebb away as she surveys the field again. "What now?"

I would suggest attempting to breach again. Statistically speaking, there's every likelihood you were just doing it wrong."

"...I really missed you, bugsuit."

Irrelevant but noted. We have to find a way to extract ourselves.

Cassie had been through a lot to get this far. She was trapped on some alien world, possibly billions on billions of miles away from home. Her father and everyone she had ever cared about were all on Earth, possibly fighting the remnants of whichever invading force deemed her fit for this mess. She owed it to them to get out of there. She owed them at least that much.

"How about we shine some light on this situation? I can't do much like this. And if it's a fight these guys want, I wouldn't like to keep them waiting." With a single, shared thought, the two begin to change drastically, as the scarab begins to expand, tendrils reaching out from her spine. Such black legs stretch across her body, intertwining and weaving. Blue armour juts out from her with some sensation as her alien mail materialises and solidifies. Continuing up her neck, it ends in a familiar mask as the host tenses.

"It's uhh, business time."

How do you sleep at night?

"Better knowing that you're ground against my mattress all night."

How ever did I survive without you in my...

The train of thought careens off its tracks as the cell begins to change. Taking a darker shade of red and humming violently, the energy shield throbs with changed and invigored purpose. A loud, thumping klaxon can be heard as the shield fizzles away. It recedes down to little more than a transparent aura.

"...Did you do this? I feel like you had something to do with this." She asks, taken aback. A single prod confirms the expected: the barrier was gone.

Highly unlikely. Reason: I haven't actually done anything. Proceed with caution.

The horn dies down as the floor beneath them seems to shudder.

"Yeah, to hell with that..." She laughs, leaping out of the emptied sphere gleefully with a confident push, her arms stretching out as a pair of wings grow to catch her. As the cell decends behind her, she gracefully hovers toward the ground, turning her attention to those to her left and right. She grows increasingly aware that she's not the only one in there anymore.

Scans are picking up multiple lifeforms. Their energy signatures are... Perplexing. Advise that you neutralise them before they can cause any more harm to the host.

"Our priority is returning home. If I can help it, I'm not going to be playing into these guys' hands. It's possible whoever we're stuck in here with are in the same boat as us. You, know against their will?" She pauses briefly, biting her lip. "Or maybe they're just blood thirsty maniacs. Regardless. the less time we spend hanging around, the less likely we are to find out.

Suit yourself.

"Cheer up. I really thought this might be your scene. We got to see aliens. We're part of a gladiator match - a real one this time. It must be just like Christmas for you, you lunatic."

I cannot contain my joy. Searching for structural weaknesses.

This is going to be fun.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Nexus Prime
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Nexus Prime Alpha & Omega

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QUICKSILVER




Pietro Maximoff knew the deal, he had gone through it more times than he could remember. Or want to remember, at least. It always started the same, with the six-armed women coming to see him in his personal dungeon - it seemed they kept all of their "guests" in solitary. She would inform him of the event he was to participate in, then they'd drug him with hypodermic needles concealed in the collar he wore, and subsequently wake inside a red, spherical force field. Pietro had found out the name of the woman a couple months into his captivity. The guards, though they weren't entirely chatty, would occasionally make mention of certain individuals. She in particular they called Spiral. He had learned fairly early on that Spiral was in charge of managing all the slaves for the "games" they would compete in. There was much Pietro had learned in his time on this world.

Like the fact that there were thousands, if not millions, of people of all races and species taken from their worlds and forced into slavery here. Pietro had discovered that when, after establishing himself as a contender by winning five of their death games, and each and every time after, they would escort him to the VIP area where he would be forced to watch his fellow slaves brutally slaughter one another just to survive another day on this sadistic world. It never ended. They held half a dozen games on average each time they brought him to watch. If he tried to avert his gaze, they would send an electrical current through his collar and shock him. The bastards got off on him watching it.

Pietro had also learned, after several months, that every slave here was from, not only a different world, but a different dimension. He didn't know how they accomplished it, not that it truly mattered, but one of the spectators in the VIP area - not another slave, this vaguely humanoid creature was a patron and audience member of the games- one day boasted about how he had bet on the strange bat-creature from an alternate universe. Pietro hadn't been sure if that was good news or bad. On one hand, his world was likely safe, having at first feared everyone on Earth had been abducted or slain. However, on the other hand, this meant he was not only on another world, but in a completely separate dimensional reality. She was safe, they hadn't gotten to her, but his hope of getting back to her had all but been crushed.

The final, and most important, fact he had learned, though, was who exactly had taken him. Who was behind all of this; the death matches, the ruthless so-called games, and vicious torture. His name was Mojo. The being in charge of it all, Spiral's boss, and Pietro's slave master. He had never met Mojo, nor even caught a glimpse, but Spiral had let slip once that Mojo would be pleased with one of his particular performances in an event. Mojo. It had to be the least threatening name for a maniacal, inter-dimensional overlord in Pietro's opinion, yet it sent chills up his spine every time he would recite it in his mind.

Nearly every single day, aside from the first month he had been brought here which, it seemed, was relegated to invasive and cruel testing periods, Pietro had been forced to run. Apparently Mojo's audience very much enjoyed to see speedsters competing in what they referred to as death races - events in which the subject would be forced to run for hours, unable to slow down unless they wished to be eviscerated by the laser grid following from behind, and all the while having to contend and deal with various, lethal traps that would spring up at random intervals. Their last speedster, Garrick, Pietro believed was his name, had run for over four years before succumbing to the race, stumbling, and ultimately failing for the last time. Which is where Pietro came in; a fresh replacement to be culled. They had designed him a fanciful costume, both to appeal to the audience and capture their attention, as well as prevent his clothing from burning up with the friction of his speed. They even gave him a "superhero" name, something else the viewers seemed to eat up gleefully. Quicksilver they called him. His shock of white hair had apparently inspired them to the name.

As Quicksilver, Pietro ran. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. He had tried to keep track of time in his cell, but it was nearly impossible to do for very long without knowing just how time flowed on this world, and he had lost track after what he thought was seven months. Each time he would run, Pietro recited one name in his head, over and over, a thousand times. Mojo. Mojo had taken him from his world, from her, and Pietro didn't entertain any foolish dreams of ever being able to return. He did, however, have one singular thought and desire constantly running through his mind. Kill Mojo. Pietro would play their games. He would survive, and win. He would do whatever it took to get his hands on that sadistic bastard.

Or so he had thought. Until today. Until now, when Pietro had woken up from the familiar drug-induced stupor and saw what was outside the red containment field. The long, winding and twisting track he had grown accustomed to over the months was gone, but something equally as recognizable and disturbing had taken its place. That gladiatorial coliseum Pietro had been forced to watch fellow slaves brutalize and murder each other in now stood before him. Or, rather, he stood in it, clearly intended to be one of its newest competitors. He had cursed upon waking to see this, as that bitch Spiral evidently had decided to withhold the information that anything was different about today's event. This was the first time in his entire captivity that he had ever been placed into an event aside from the death race, and for it to be this event... his mind was a blur of dangerous thoughts.

I'll have to. I've seen what they do in this game. They all act like they won't, but when they aren't given a choice they do it. They kill. They all do, or they die. Pietro smashed his fists against the force bubble, ignoring the burning pain. I'll have to. I can't outrun this. Not this time. Have to keep going. Have to stay alive. Have to get through this, and find Mojo. Kill him for everything he's done to me. For taking me away from her. For leaving her there with him.

It'll be easy, he told himself as the bubble began to glow and pulse, starting sirens wailing high above, and the platform creeping closer to the ground. Just run in and snap their neck. Make it fast. They won't feel a thing, won't know it happened. A mercy killing. I can do this. I have to. Just a quick little snap.

Nothing to it I can do this kill or be killed no choice left I can't die here I have to do this.
Pietro's thoughts began to run together as his pulse quickened, adrenaline kicking in. He could feel his body tingle as the familiar rush of his power washed over him, his feet kicking out from beneath him as he launched himself off the pillar, strong leg muscles supporting and absorbing his landing.

He burst forward hitting sixty miles-per-hour in less than two seconds, feet a blur beneath him as he picked up speed. Weaving in and out of the ruins of the coliseum, and towards the closest pillar to his right; his mind racing just as fast as his body.

Havetodoithavetodoithavetodoitkillthemwinlivesurvivefindhimfindmojokillhimkillkillkill.
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