MATCH 1: HAOHMARU (SS3) vs. GENJURO (SS3)
"The sonic dampeners *are* on?" Wanderer asked Hunter with an
eyebrow
raised. The control booth was triple-insulated and had a counteractive
sonic
vibration set in place for the sake of keeping overly loud sounds out.
They weren't working.
"Yup."
"And they're still that loud?"
"Double yup." Hunter was wearing earmuffs.
"This is gonna suck."
Down in the ring...
"--AND THEN I SEEM TO REMEMBER AN INCIDENT WHEN I WAS DUELING
THE NOTED
PRIMITIVE WARRIOR (ALTHOUGH NOT SO LEGENDARY AS MYSELF, OF COURSE) CHAM
CHAM,
AND YOU JUMPED INTO THE MIDDLE OF IT AND STARTED ATTACKING ME WITHOUT
ASKING HER
PERMISSION AND SHE BEAT THE NOTED UNLEGENDARY SNOT OUT OF YOU FOR BEING
RUDE
(WHICH, I NOTED, SHE DID WITH LEGENDARY SPEED, THOUGH I COULD HAVE DONE
IT
INFINITELY FASTER, BEING THE LEGEND THAT I HAPPEN TO BE) AND IMMEDIATELY
RESUMED
THE DUEL WITH ME (I BELIEVE I WON, IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, FOR, BEING A
LEGEND,
I ALWAYS WIN MY DUELS UNLESS THERE HAPPENS TO BE SOME KIND OF STRANGE
COSMIC
EVENT OR, SOMETIMES, IF THERE IS A PRACTITIONER OF SHOTOKAN KARATE
INVOLVED)--"
"--and then when I'm done digging you out of the hole I will
spit on your
face and call you a sissy and smack you around like the wussy loser
bitch you
are and then I will drag your body across Japan and beat it against any
trees I
happen to see and laugh at it and make fun of you and draw pictures on
you with
magic markers that depict various acts of your loser life and then I
will throw
your body into the Pacific and leave it there so you're pickled and then
I will
fish your body out with a big net and drain all of the putrid seawater
out of
you by hanging you upside down for about a year during which time I will
be on
Gairyu Isle romancing Oshizu who will love me because I am not you and
for no
other reason--"
"--OF COURSE, IT SEEMS SOME DAYS THAT I CANNOT HAVE A NICE
CIVILIZED DUEL
TO THE DEATH WITH ANYONE WITHOUT YOUR UNLEGENDARY SELF JUMPING IN AND
RUINING IT
WITH YOUR COWARDLY AND INEPT ATTEMPTS UPON MY LIFE, FOR EXAMPLE, THAT
OCCASION
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO WHEREIN YOU ATTEMPTED TO ATTACK ME WHILE I WAS DUELING
MY
MARVELOUSLY SKILLED RIVAL UKYO TACHIBANA (WHO, WHILE LEGENDARY, IS NOT
AS MUCH
SO AS I, HIS FIERCEST RIVAL, HAOHMARU), AND WE WERE BOTH FORCED TO BEAT
YOU INTO
UNCONSCIOUSNESS BEFORE YOU WOULD LEAVE US ALONE TO CONTINUE TRYING TO
KILL EACH
OTHER LIKE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS--"
"--and we'll have a big wedding party and we'll invite all of
those wussy
losers you hang out with and I'll beat them up because they're wussy
losers and
make them cry and ruin their good clothes and use that wussy loser
treehugger
slut Nakoruru's knife to cut the cake and I will feed Oshizu the cake
with my
hands and we will laugh and talk about when she thought she loved you
and she
will be amazed she ever loved such a loser as you and I will realize
she's right
and she must be crazy and leave her right there at the altar--"
Neither of them heard the round bell ring. So Hunter rang it
again. Twice.
Finally, he threw his hands up in the air and let the fight go into the
second
round, as Kuroko declared the first round a draw.
"--AND OF COURSE, YOU HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SOMEONE OF YOUR EVIL
QUALITIES,
EVIL BEING UNBECOMING IN A LEGEND, PRECLUDES YOUR CHANCES OF EVER BEING
ANYTHING
MORE THAN A SMALL CHAPTER IN THE MANY SONGS AND STORIES TOLD ABOUT THE
LEGENDARY
HAOHMARU, FOR YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY NOT DESTINED TO BE EVEN A SMALL LEGEND,
MUCH
LESS A LEGEND OF MY GREAT PROWESS AND SKILL--"
"--and I will wander across Japan once again getting into fights
because
everyone will want to fight the one who killed the legendary wussy loser
Haohmaru and I will win all the fights and I will laugh at them because
they
thought they could beat me and I will take the money from their corpses
and
build a giant sculpture of you and then I will take Neinhalt Seiger's
glove from
him without even trying and slap him across the face with it and then I
will
spend a week calmly breaking the sculpture into rubble with the glove
and then I
will go and find your body which I left curing on the beaches of the
Pacific and
laugh at it--"
"--AND THEN, OF COURSE, YOU MUST TAKE INTO ACCOUNT MY MANY
LEGENDARY
ACCOMPLISHMENTS, SUCH AS MY PERFORMANCE IN OUR OWN NODE AND THE MANY
TIMES I
HAVE SAVED JAPAN FROM DESTRUCTION, IF NOT THE WHOLE WORLD, TO SAY
NOTHING OF THE
MANY DEMONS I HAVE SLAIN AND MAIDENS I HAVE USUALLY SAVED IN THE COURSE
OF A
SLOW WEEK, AND, OF COURSE, MY VICTORIES ON THE FIELD OF THIS, THE DREAM
TOURNAMENT, AND SUCH OTHER EXHIBITIONS AS THE ULTIMATE VIDEO RUMBLE
(WHICH,
AFTER FACING MANY DEADLY OPPONENTS, I WON, FOR SUCH IS THE WAY OF A
LEGEND, AND
PERFORMED WITH SIMILAR SKILL AND GRACE IN THE SECOND)--"
"--then I will take your body and hoist it over my shoulders and
drag it
face first across Japan and make sure to take very very rough roads and
bang you
up a lot and then I will force feed you all of the dust so you're heavy
and then
I will throw you into an underground lake and fill it with piranhas and
lawyers
and other carnivorous creatures so no one touches your body save these
creatures
which are smarter than to touch you because your loserness might infect
them and
then I will go and get some more bombs from that guy and I will kill
that guy--"
"--SO, IN CLOSING, I MUST REMIND ALL OF THOSE WATCHING THAT I AM
THE
LEGENDARY HAOHMARU, LEGEND OF LEGENDS, SO LEGENDARY THAT MERE WORDS DO
NOT DO ME
JUSTICE, SAVIOR OF JAPAN, GREATEST SWORDSMAN OF ALL TIME, MASTER OF MANY
STRANGE
AND DEVASTATING TECHNIQUES THAT WILL SEND AN OPPONENT SCREAMING TO THE
NETHERWORLDS, AND I WILL PREVAIL OVER YOU, GENJURO, MY NOTABLY
NON-LEGENDARY
ADVERSARY, AS I HAVE DONE SO MANY TIMES BEFORE, ONLY THIS TIME IT SHALL
BE IN
FRONT OF BILLIONS AND BE THE ULTIMATE HUMILIATION! HAVE AT YOU! HA!"
"--and I will detonate the ground on top of the lake and go get
a big sign
saying that this is the resting place of the accursed wussy loser
Haohmaru and
plant it right in the middle of the blast site and I will sow the ground
with
salt and pay Amakusa a lot of money to summon evil spirits so no one can
ever
admire you aloud without being attacked and their soul absorbed and then
I will
gut Amakusa like a flounder and move on with my life for I will finally
have
defeated you in the manner you deserve, most unlegendary of legends!
HA!"
Their swords flew out at each other constantly, proving once and
for all
that the round and a half up to this point had just been a warmup.
Sparks flew
constantly as blade met blade, lighting up the Arena with blue
iridescence like
heat lightning. The audience, still in shock from the speechmaking,
began to
faintly cheer them on. Neither of them spoke, saving their voices for
the
constant low grunts and shouts of their swordplay.
As the second round drew to a close, Haohmaru lashed out with an
enormously powerful blow. a crescent of energy appearing in the wake of
his
blade. Genjuro blocked it at the last second, but was injured slightly
even
through his defense.
Kuroko waved his flags to end the round at that moment, awarding
the
victory to Haohmaru. The ronin tossed his blade nonchalantly in the air,
and
smirked at the smoldering Genjuro as he caught it in its sheath.
The third round began, and Genjuro threw himself at Haohmaru
like a
berserker. Rage drove him beyond his limits, to new heights of
swordplay.
Haohmaru never lost his confident grin, but sweat rolled down his face
as he
worked to block or parry away all of Genjuro's attacks.
Finally, Haohmaru grasped his sword in both hands and lunged
forward at
Genjuro with all his might. As his blade flew out, however, Genjuro
slashed with
equal might, crashing their swords together with a sound like thunder.
Sparks
flew as both of them strained against each other.
Haohmaru proved the stronger, and Genjuro's sword spun out of
his hands,
sticking into the mat some distance away.
"HA!" Haohmaru cried, and swung a second time, ready to cut
Genjuro in
two.
With a dexterity born of desperation, Genjuro caught Haohmaru's
sword
between his hands. Haohmaru's smile turned to a look of shock as he was
slammed
into the mat by his weapon, and the shock turned to outrage as the round
bell
rang.
Genjuro laughed under his breath as he was declared the winner
of the
third round.
The fourth round was a shooting match. Both warriors abandoned
defense for
offense, their swords constantly in motion, both suffering grevious
wounds
within seconds of the opening bell. Blood soaked the canvas fifteen
seconds into
the match, forcing the TV rating of the Dream Tournament to MA-14. No
special
techniques were used save endurance and adrenaline; no words were
spoken.
Quietly, Hunter dimmed the lights in the DreamArena, those that were
left
focusing solely on the two fighters' struggle.
As the round drew to a close, with twenty seconds left on the
timer,
Genjuro flew at Haohmaru, the sky flashing violet behind him, and
slashed once,
both of their forms obscured by a single floating hanafuda card. A
second one
appeared in the air above them, a third, a fourth, a fifth; then all
five were
violently split down the middle by a precision blow, as sharp as any
razor. The
pieces began to slowly float to the ground.
Haohmaru fell to his knees, a fresh wound across his chest
spraying blood.
Genjuro smirked, moved in for the kill--
"TENHA FUJINZAN!"
--and ran straight into six consecutive Kogetsuzans. Genjuro
went down,
grimacing, but not crying out.
As both Samurais felt their lives ebb away, both fought back to
their
feet, and wound up having to settle for their knees.
Haohmaru, his white robe streaked with red, dealt a staggeringly
powerful
overhand sword blow that actually seemed to cut the air in two.
Genjuro, his bare chest bleeding and torn, swung his blade out
sideways in
a backhand slash, every bit of his considerable strength behind it.
All motion froze.
Both swordsmen looked into the other's eyes, and nodded briefly,
before
falling to the mat, their swords deeply buried in each other.
The last thing either of them heard before darkness took them
was Kuroko
yelling, "Double knockout!"
[DOUBLE ELIMINATION: Haohmaru-52, Genjuro-52, Draw-12, DKO-25]
Wanderer started swearing under his breath. "I *HATE* double
eliminations..."
Emerald, poking at Haohmaru and Genjuro's bodies, looked up at
the booth
and spoke into his comlink. "Actually, about sixty percent of all
samurai duels-
-when they came to blows, anyway--ended in a double fatality; this is
just par
for the course."
Hunter shrugged. "At least they won't take long to heal; get
them to the
infirmary."
MATCH 2: MORRIGAN ARNSLAND (DS2) vs. KING (KOF95)
"Um...um..." Morrigan stammered.
"Yes, baby?" King smiled sweetly, her arms draped across
Morrigan's
shoulders. "What is it?"
This is damned unnatural, Morrigan thought but did not say.
*She* was the
succubus. *She* seduced mortals (and occasionally beat them to within an
inch of
their lives), not the other way around. But here it was. She felt like a
junior
high girl on her first date.
Meanwhile, up in the booth, Hunter was staring at the two women
with the
kind of rapt attention to detail some people lavish on the Zapruder
tape.
Wanderer, meanwhile, with his usual discretion, had fallen under the
booth
laughing the first time he'd seen the look on Morrigan's face; when he
got
enough control over himself to get back up, his eyes would, inevitably,
be drawn
to the monitor showing the closeups of the fight, and he'd fall back
down again.
Emerald stared at the two fighters. If his smile had been any
wider, it
would have extended clear off his face, and possibly on to one of the
two
fighters on the mat (which would have suited him just fine).
"But...but..." Morrigan said, stuttering badly.
"What is it, love?" King cooed. "You can tell me..."
"...I thought you were...str-str-str--"
"Straight?" King chuckled. "Yes, yes, I'm straight, despite what
you hear
...I'm just not narrow. So many men are such bastards, though... and why
should
I let a little thing like someone's gender get in the way of what could
be a
beautiful... friendship?" She accented the word 'friendship' with the
kind of
meaning only a woman can give it.
Wanderer stopped laughing at what sounded like Hunter's frontal
lobe
short-circuiting.
"But...aren't you supposed to like Ryo Sakazaki or something?"
Morrigan
said. Maybe this wouldn't be quite so bad...
King smiled, and leaned in close. Their lips almost touched, as
she
whispered, lover's-quiet:
"I do."
King's feet suddenly spun upward from the mat, slamming
Morrigan's head
backward. As the succubus, her face a mask of confusion, shook it off,
King was
already on the move, lashing out with every bit of skill and speed she
possessed, slamming into Morrigan like a woman possessed. Even on the
instant
replay, King's lower body became a blur, Morrigan seeming to shake in a
wind no
one else could see. King used her for a practice dummy, building up her
power
and kicking her all over the ring. As King shouted "ILLUSION DANCE!"
Morrigan
still bore the same mystified look she had for the entire round. Even
when the
final blow of King's super move knocked her cold to the mat, she
retained that
same expression.
"Nasekanai," King sneered, dropping her handkerchief.
Up in the booth, Hunter's body actually collapsed in relaxation.
"It's
okay."
Wanderer climbed to his feet. Tears were actually coming down
his cheeks.
"What? What's okay?"
"Morrigan lost the round, but she's not with King. Everything's
going to
be all right."
Wanderer blinked. "You're very strange, man."
Morrigan staggered to her feet. "What...what was that?"
"The same thing this is about to be, slut," King said. "You
hitting the
mat."
"Oh, I don't think so, bitch," Morrigan growled through clenched
teeth.
Kuroko hurriedly declared the fight on, then jumped out of the ring as
Morrigan
launched herself at King.
King blocked and parried away Morrigan's attacks as best she
could, but no
one could have stopped all of them, much less counterattacked. Hell,
indeed,
hath no fury like a woman scorned, and scorned women just can't compete
with
humiliated succubuses (succubi?).
"GUARD REVERSAL! DAEMON *WAVE*!" Morrigan yelled, breaking right
through
King's block with her enhanced Shadow Blade. "HOW DO YOU LIKE *THIS*,
HONEY?!
HOW DO YOU LIKE IT??"
King got up, shaking her head, and was met by Morrigan "Combo
Bitch"
Arnsland and her Doppleganger friend. Whuppin' ensued.
King found herself bouncing off of the mat, sense pounded clean
out of her
head, as Morrigan was declared the winner of the second round.
"All right..." King snarled, pulling herself up. "You showed me
yours, and
I showed you mine. Let's get this done."
"Not a problem, tramp," Morrigan said quietly. "Do you have a
next of kin
you can notify? If you do, let them know that Morrigan Arnsland kicked
your ass
*both* ways it goes! Oh, wait, never mind, *I'LL* do it, just before I
kick
*THEIR* ASSES TOO!!!"
King became quite irate. "I'll be sure to tell your *sister* the
same
thing just before I POUND HER &^*%$* BRAINS OUT OF HER &^*%$#@* HEAD!"
"Oh, no, you DON'T. SHE'S *MINE* TO KILL! TRY IT, AND I WILL
PERSONALLY
*BEAT* YOU TO *DEATH* WITH YOUR OWN *SPINE*!"
"NOT ON THE *BEST* DAY OF YOUR--wait a minute," King said.
"Would I even
feel that?"
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU--I honestly don't know," Morrigan
replied. "Let's
find out."
"Oh, yes. Let's."
Kuroko waved his flags and ran like hell.
Very little actual fighting went on in the first few moments of
the third
round, as most of what was accomplished involved very long, involved
insults
about one party or the other's promiscuity. When fighting *did* occur,
it was
more likely to be a slap or a frenzy of scratching than something
involving
martial-arts, both women forgetting their training in favor of more
primal arts.
The Time Killers, as they were wont to do when, as now, Matrix was in
the
bathroom, started chanting "CAT*FIGHT*! CAT*FIGHT*!"
"Oh, this is brutal..." Wanderer said into the mike.
"You're tellin' me," Emerald replied. "This is not pretty."
"I'm kind of enjoying it, myself," Hunter said. "Then again,
it's been
observed that I need help."
"Consider it to have been observed again."
Finally, King remembered what she was there to do, and connected
a deep
two-hit Tornado Kick. Morrigan, in return, slammed King in the jaw with
a Soul
Fist. King hit Morrigan with a high axe kick, slamming her into the mat,
and
Morrigan repaid her with a ("Oh, hell, not *again*--" WHAM!) Hell Ride.
King
grabbed Morrigan, slammed her into the mat, and caught her with a Trap
Shot.
Morrigan Shadow Bladed her into the air and kicked her on the way down.
"All right..." King panted, pulling herself up. "I've
had....enough...of
you..."
Morrigan sneered. "Sure...bring it...on..." She swayed a little,
her eyes
unfocused.
King rushed forward, intent upon delivering an Illusion Dance as
she did
so. Unfortunately, in midstride, she saw Morrigan's face suddenly regain
its
sense, realized that she was being set up, and tried to jump out of the
way.
She tried a few seconds too late, and Morrigan slammed a kick
into her
sternum. King's breath left her in a rush, and she staggered back.
"This is over," Morrigan sneered. "SUPER SOUL FIST!"
King took the supercharged bat in the chest. Her tuxedo exploded
off her
body with a shower of sparks and fire, her sports bra clearly visible
for a
moment before she fell forward on her face, unconscious.
Morrigan struck a pose as Kuroko announced the victory. "Not at
my own
game, honey. Never at that."
[WINNER: MORRIGAN ARNSLAND-85 votes, King-50 votes, Draw-3, DKO-3]
MATCH 3: TERRY BOGARD (KOF95) vs. GALFORD (SS3)
The moment the round bell rang, Galford advanced on Terry,
smiling, his
teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Drawing his sword, he let out a mighty
warrior's
yell, and, with an eye-blurring triple forward somersault, brought it
flashing
down upon Terry's head..
Terry sidestepped it and punched him sharply in the nose.
Galford went sprawling. Getting up, he shook his head to clear
it, and
fired a Plasma Blade; the electrical bolt met and destroyed a Power Wave
in the
middle of the platform. Running after his missile, Galford came in low,
slashing
smoothly and cleanly at Terry's legs. Unfortunately, Terry's legs almost
instantly left the ground in his Crack Shot, his heel hitting Galford on
the
crown of the head and slamming him into the mat chin first.
The round progressed in similar fashion. Terry continued to wait
for
Galford to attack flashily, Galford continued to attack flashily, and
Terry
nonchalantly dodged, blocked, or counterstruck everything Galford tried.
Finally, Galford, bruised and battered, backed off from Terry, eying him
with
new respect. It was clearly time to try something new.
"Go, Poppy!"
Growling, the wolfhound raced across the ring, ready to bury her
fangs in
Terry's leg.
Terry knelt down and held out his hand. His eyes met the dog's.
As Poppy drew near, her mouth closed. Trotting up to Terry's
outstretched
hand, she sniffed at it, and licked his exposed fingers.
Terry put his hand on her head. "Nice dog you've got here," he
said to
Galford, petting Poppy.
"Yes, well, yes, she is..." Galford was confused.
Poppy licked Terry's hand, and jumped out of the ring to watch
her master
fight. Galford watched her go, his face a mask of surprise and alarm. As
he
turned back to his fight, still wondering what the hell had just
happened, he
noticed Terry rocketing towards him.
"BURN KNUCKLE!"
Galford went flying across the ring, rolling to a stop right at
the edge.
He was unconscious before he landed.
Kuroko waved his flags. "Round to Terry Bogard! Perfect!"
As Galford was roused for the second round, Terry looked around
and tipped
his hat to the crowd.
"I'm confused," Hunter said. He was scratching his head. "I
thought Poppy
was supposed to maul people..."
"It's not really that hard to understand, man," Wanderer
replied. He was
wearing his Official Terry Bogard Souvenir Cap (TM), turned backwards.
"Poppy's
a wolfhound. Terry's the 'Lone Wolf'. You figure it out."
The second round was delayed slightly so Galford could switch to
his Bust
style. Poppy watched her master from ringside, panting happily.
"No dog bones for you tonight," Galford lectured the dog. "Bad
Poppy!"
Poppy had the grace to look ashamed.
Terry adjusted his cap. "Don't be too hard on her. She's a good
dog.
Right, Poppy?"
Poppy wagged her tail and barked at Terry.
"You," Galford accused, "can stay out of this." He drew his
sword and
dashed in at Terry. Terry, not expecting anything quite so nonstylish
from
Galford, blocked quickly, but still lost a great deal of skin (holding
up one's
arms to block a ninja-to is *not* going to help a hell of a lot). As he
backed
away from Galford, he fell over as Galford swept his legs out from under
him.
The match became, quickly, all Galford. Terry was able to sneak
in a few
quick punches and kicks, and knocked Galford down three or four times,
but he
simply couldn't compensate, up close, for Galford's sword. As a matter
of fact,
the fact that Galford *had* the sword was starting to piss him off.
Galford, on the other hand, was really more annoyed than
anything else. He
felt betrayed, actually. Poppy was *his* dog, damn it all. Maybe he was
being a
little silly about it, but he didn't really care. His mood grew steadily
darker,
and his attacks grew more intense. He wasn't striking to kill, but he
was
definitely working off some aggression.
Finally, after being slashed across the chest for the fifth
time, Terry
lost it. "I have HAD it with this!" Throwing himself at Galford, his
fists
became a blur, knocking Galford ass-over-sword. "POWER..." Terry raised
one
fist.
Galford scrambled backward, trying to get away from Terry.
"...G E Y S E R!!!!" Terry struck the mat as hard as he could.
There was a sudden roar like a gas main igniting, and Galford
was consumed
by an enormous pillar of flame. Those who were on the arena floor were
thrown
off their feet. Emerald, watching from ringside, found himself holding
on to the
turnbuckle to avoid being blown into the nosebleed seats by sheer
concussive
force.
"This...was not...what I meant by...'close to the action'!"
Emerald
yelled, through clenched teeth, into his comlink.
"Doin' fine, Ace!" Wanderer radioed back.
Hunter raised an eyebrow. "And you say *I'm* cruel?"
Terry straightened up to both feet, his fist smoking, feeling
like he had
run a marathon. Looking in front of him, he didn't see anything save a
large
black char on the mat's surface...
...and a pile of blasted splinters.
Terry looked around, and suddenly, he remembered Andy's match
last year
with this guy, and Andy Choretsudaning a log--
As he dropped out of the sky, Galford's aerial rolling slash
struck Terry
viciously in the back. The Garou went sprawling, out for the count.
They both took their places for the third round, both the worse
for wear,
and neither in the best of moods.
Galford looked somewhat sheepish. "Sorry about that."
Terry glared at him. "What the hell do you mean, 'sorry'? You
could have
killed me!"
"I got a little upset..."
"*Upset*?!" Terry yelled at him. "Bad enough you've got a damned
sword,
but you can't keep ahold of yourself? What the
kind of
ninja are you??"
"How *dare* you talk to me like that?" Galford was now
absolutely enraged.
"I don't have the best discipline in the world, but at least I don't
look like
a--"
The audience drew in its breath in anticipation of what they
feared would
come.
"--*pizza boy*!"
The audience immediately started retreating away from the
Arena's floor.
The other fighters found pressing business in the locker rooms. The
janitorial
squad decided to clean up the parking lot. Emerald abruptly vanished
from sight.
Even Poppy, with the perceptiveness oftentimes found in members of the
canine
kingdom, lay down and put her paws over her head.
"What did you say?" Terry said very softly.
"I *said*," Galford yelled back, "you look like a pizza boy!"
Kuroko was forced to abruptly jump out from between them as
Terry launched
himself at Galford, enraged beyond human imagination, and put his fist
cleanly
into the middle of Galford's chin. The ninja dropped, clutching at his
sword,
barely clearing leather before Terry slammed him into the mat.
Galford began to think he might be in trouble.
Terry, still too angry to speak coherently, connected two deep
hits off of
a Crack Shot. Galford fell backward, and was abused readily as he did
so. Terry
punched him twice before uppercutting him into the air and Power Dunking
him
back down.
As Galford bounced off of the ring surface, he tucked and rolled
in mid-
air, coming up on his feet. As Terry landed, Galford slashed madly at
him; as
his blade touched Terry's skin, electricity conducted through it into
Terry.
Sparking and convulsing, Terry hit the mat a short distance away.
"Hey, calm down," Galford pleaded. "You don't look *that* much
like a
pizza boy... and we're both on the same side, right?"
Terry didn't answer; instead, he propelled himself off the mat
surface
with a Burn Knuckle. Galford grimaced, and immediately teleported;
Terry's fist
struck a log, breaking it in two.
Terry, through the haze, realized what had happened. Quickly, he
pivoted,
to intercept Galford as he fell from the sky...and blocked Galford's
sword with
half of the log.
Galford smiled slightly, and pulled his sword free.
Or rather, he tried. The sword was stuck. Tugging at it, Galford
looked at
Terry and swallowed hard.
Terry, for his part, jerked the log, and the sword, away from
Galford, and
broke the log over Galford's head. Quietly, the American ninja's eyes
rolled up
in his head, and he fell to the mat.
"Pizza boy, my ass." Terry pulled off his cap and dusted off his
jeans
with it.
[WINNER: TERRY BOGARD-76 votes, Galford-46 votes, Draw-13, DKO-6]
"All RIGHT!" Wanderer yelled. "Bogard comes through!"
"Impartial observer, Wandy?" Hunter murmured.
"I'm perfectly objective in this as in all things because I am a
tournament professional. And Terry Bogard kicks ass."
Meanwhile, down on the floor, Terry exchanged high fives with
Andy and
Joe, ignoring glares from Nakoruru and Rimururu.
MATCH 4: UKYO TACHIBANA (SS3) vs. KIM KAPHWAN (KOF95)
"Shall we?" queried Kim Kap Hwan of his ailing opponent, who
stood across
the ring leaning heavily on his sheathed sword. Ukyo Tachibana nodded
faintly.
Kuroko swung his flags floorward and yelled, "Shoubu!" and the fight was
underway.
Kim wasted no time, sliding swiftly at Ukyo with one leg
extended. Ukyo
blocked the sliding kick and the following overhead somersault kick.
Kim's
opening Comet Cruncher was answered by Ukyo in the form of a quick
rising slash
followed by three sliding Afterimage Slashes; the flurry of sword
strikes left
the Tae Kwon Do master flat on his butt.
Out in the eliminated seats, Siegfried was just getting back
with an
armload of refreshments for the object of his desire, the lovely but
confusing
Sophitia. She squealed with delight, but it was unclear as to the
object of the
delight: "Ooooh, you're back! Isn't Kim's butt cute? He just fell flat
onto
it. Oh, and salt but no butter on the popcorn, just the way I like it,
ohhh
thank you Siggywiggy."
"Sophitia, PLEASE! Don't call me that in public!!! Someone
might hea--
uh..." Siegfried saw the various looks of contempt, bemusement, and
sympathy
being directed at him for several yards around and blushed crimson.
"Did you remember the hot dogs with relish and brown mustard and
onions,
and my Diet Coke with a slice of lemon on the side, not squeezed in? Of
course
you did, you're such a dear."
"Also you told me about seventeen jillion times," muttered
Siegfried.
"What was tha-- oh, look! Kim looks like he's going to win this
one! Oh,
it's so hard to decide who's cuter, him or Ukyo. Although if he keeps
doing
_that_ to Ukyo, he'll definitely be cuter. Ouch!" Sophitia winced in
sympathy
as Kim stuffed Ukyo's attempted Tsubame Gaeshi with a quick
Hienzan, then added a Comet Cruncher as Ukyo got up to seal his victory
for the
first round. Naturally, he very graciously aided his opponent to his
feet.
"He's sooooo nice," sighed Sophitia. "Why can't _you_ be that
nice,
Seigfried?"
The German with the Bigass Sword (tm) was less grateful for her
not using
her pet name for him than he was irked at her editorial comment on his
personality. "I _am_ that nice... sometimes," he growled.
"Oh, I'm just teasing you, silly Siggy," his companion replied,
fluttering
her eyelashes at him and making his heart melt quite unwillingly.
Somewhere at
the back of his mind, he kept remembering Mitsurugi urging him to have
nothing
to do with the Greek lovely, but he couldn't for the life
of him remember why. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he was
vaguely aware
that it was because she was doing to his heart what Ukyo was doing to
Kim right
now, namely slicing him to ribbons, only it hurt more. However, that
part of
his mind was being largely ignored by the rest of him, much as Kim was
ignoring
the pain of Ukyo's assault to fight back with his patented Houou Kyaku.
Unfortunately for Kim, Ukyo was still in decent shape, even with half of
his
stamina sucked away in one hit. One Concealed Sabre Heaven's Gale
later, round
two was over and Kim was being helped to his feet by Ukyo. The
metaphor, having
been done to death, was largely lost on Siggy, and naturally Sophitia
never had
a clue as to its existence.
"Ooooh, I think that if I had the chance, I'd just go for both
of them. I
mean, y'know, purely theoretically, like in the absence of anyone else
in any of
our lives, or just stuck on a deserted island, I'd sooooo like to be the
filling
in a Kim and Ukyo sandwich. Of course, I'd have to make Ukyo
some nice hot tea so he wouldn't cough all over me, but that probably
wouldn't
be to hard to find on a deserted island, as long as it was tropical...
Siggy,
you're turning purple, are you okay?"
"I'm. Just. Watching. The. Match." Seigfried tried to focus
all his
concentration on the fight outside his heart rather than the one inside
it, as
the internal debate on whether to strangle Sophitia or get up and walk
away,
uttering a biting remark on her amazing insensitivity, was far less
pleasant
than the cases of whoopass which Kim and Ukyo were unloading on one
another.
Ukyo was privately wondering whether he should have opted for
fighting in
Bust mode; as much as he was doing everything to Kim but actual
dismemberment,
Kim was handing back in spades. Already a Houou Kyaku and a Tsubame
Rokuren had
been unleashed during this round, but both fighters raged doggedly on.
The
Drying Pole had tasted deeply of Kim's blood, but Kim's feet kept
slamming into
Ukyo's knees, and shoulders, and (very painfully) his chest, and now his
head.
Ukyo tried to low-slash Kim out of a slow advance, but quick as
lightning, Kim
leapt up out of the way and HishoKyaku'd his way down, repeatedly
slamming Ukyo
to the brink of unconsciousness.
But not quite over it.
"What the hell..." Wanderer started and half-rose from his
seat.
As Ukyo rose, his vision swimming in a sea of blood and
blackness,
something in him snapped. His countenance became genuinely frightening
to those
who could see it. And he rushed forward at his opponent, who had
backflipped
away but not landed yet.
All this in an instant.
The air about the two clouded, taking on a familiar azure hue,
and then
Kim, dropping heavily back to his feet, saw Ukyo rushing forward and
gave an
utterance halfway between a cry of dismay and a sigh of resignation.
"MUSOUZANKOKA!"
Ukyo's form blurred, rushing past Kim too many times to count.
Ukyo
reappeared, coughing blood, on the other side of the unfortunate
TaeKwonDoKa,
and then Kim's body convulsed. Blood sprayed from a multitude of cuts,
and Kim
hit the ground, insensible.
But Ukyo's face changed from horrifying to horrified as he
realized what
he had done. To have lost control like that... and in a fight with
someone
against whom he had no vendetta? Such was not the behaviour of a
samurai. Or a
champion.
The bishounen ronin had no time for self-recrimination, though.
The
strain of using his Bust deathmove, combined with his pang of
conscience, was
too much for the tuberculitic swordsman's body, and Ukyo suddenly felt
as if
someone had ripped his lungs out of his body. He vomited blood, more
than he
thought possible, and his iaito clattered to the mat beneath him.
Darkness
engulfed his fevered mind, and he fell...
A few minutes later, Emerald stepped to the center of the mat as
Todo,
grumbling about the stain Ukyo had created, finished mopping up and
headed back
to the janitorial office of the Dreamarena. "Ukyo has still not
regained
consciousness," Emerald announced to the audience, "and so, after a
brief
consultation of the other Dream Tournament officials, we have decided to
rule
this match a...
[DOUBLE ELIMINATION: Ukyo Tachibana-63, Kim Kaphwan-54, Draw-9, DKO-15]
"Maybe I should go to the infirmary and see how they're both
doing," mused
Sophitia.
Seigfried decided to just get up and take some air for a while.
MATCH 5: MAI SHIRANUI (KOF95) vs. HANZO HATTORI (SS3)
Hanzo brought his superior defensive game to bear on Mai in the
first
round. She had no idea what direction he was coming from next, and her
flame
techniques struck air or wood more often than not. The smell of
woodsmoke
drifted lazily throughout the Arena. Finally, as the round drew to a
close, she
took a final gamble on one of Hanzo's Mirror Images--and got suckered,
running
right through the image and into Hanzo's waiting arms. A final
piledriver put
Mai down for the round.
As the second round began, Hanzo made a cautioning gesture with
his
finger. "This is how a true ninja operates, child. You may wish to take
notes."
Mai responded by sticking a fan into his face from across the
ring. As
Hanzo reeled backward, Mai was abruptly on top of him. Her raw (fatal?)
fury
took Hanzo completely off guard, and she abused the older ninja from one
side of
the mat to the other, moving faster than anyone Hanzo had ever fought.
He
managed to get back to his feet in time to mount a counteroffensive, but
simply
couldn't catch up to the younger girl in time. Finally, Mai backflipped
over a
backhand slash, landed behind Hanzo, and Flame Flash Kicked him across
the ring,
out for the count.
Quietly, both of them faced off for the third. Mai quietly
pulled one of
her fans out, waiting, and Hanzo lifted his sword. For twenty ticks on
the
clock, they watched each other's eyes.
Mai made the first move, suddenly throwing a fan at Hanzo.
Predictably, he
slashed it out of the air and countered with his Bakuen Ryu attack, a
flaming
snake of fire bouncing along the ground. Mai sidestepped it as it went
past, and
began to throw another fan; the snake came bouncing back, and struck her
in the
legs.
Hanzo saw his chance as Mai crumpled, and dashed in with his
sword held
low, slashing quickly across Mai's stomach. Mai cried out, and flipped
over
Hanzo's head to get away from his sword; pivoting quickly in midair, she
made
contact with an aerial roundhouse kick, snapping Hanzo's head back.
As Hanzo reeled, Mai clapped both ankles around his head and
slammed him
into the mat. Hanzo bounced once and stood, glad the mask hid his face.
His
skull rang like a wind chime.
Mai snapped another fan out and pointed at Hanzo. "Still with
us, fossil?"
"I will not tolerate disrespect from you, child," Hanzo
murmured. Jumping
back from Mai, he sent a throwing star spinning across her shoulder, and
vanished upon contact with the ground.
"Come out, old man!" Mai called, walking forward. Suddenly, two
Hanzos
flashed into existence, one in front, one behind her, revolving around
her with
arms crossed. Mai jumped backwards, trying to get out from between them
so she
could decide which was the real ninja--
--and right into the arms of the real Hanzo. Jumping into the
air, he
slammed Mai into the mat headfirst and backed away, gathering his anger,
honing
it. A reddish aura flared around his head and shoulders. As she got up,
Mai ran
over and knocked him over with a fury of punches, but the damage had
already
been done; a glowing Hanzo kicked himself up and swept her off her feet.
Mai stood up, shaking her head, and tried to concentrate through
the pain
of her bruised skull. She was too angry to think straight; that was
getting her
in trouble. She was going to lose if she wasn't careful--
--the world disappeared in flame.
It was that simple; one moment, the world was there, the next,
it was
obscured from her by a red-orange burst of fire. Mai felt herself
burning, and
threw herself on the ground, rolling, trying to put herself out. Looking
up, her
hair and clothing smoking, she realized Hanzo had vanished completely.
Mai started to panic, but then remembered King's fight with
Hanzo. He was
invisible. That was all; he hadn't teleported again. She forced herself
to start
breathing at a normal, quiet rate, and reached her feet with catlike
grace.
Reaching out, she felt the area around her with her senses,
concentrating only
on where Hanzo might be. The roars of the crowd faded into nothingness,
and she
heard the slightest of footfalls...
Right behind her.
Hanzo, thinking himself safe in his invisibility, slowly
advanced on Mai's
back. As he drew near her, he raised his sword for the slash that would
put her
down permanently.
Mai pivoted and placed her hands in the same motion, flowing
smoothly from
standing to vaulting towards Hanzo, her cartwheeling feet striking him
in the
head and knocking him backward, perfectly setting him up. She knew where
he was
now. Her power concentrated into her outstretched elbow, and Mai
Shiranui
vanished inside a cloak of pure red flame, aimed like an arrow at the
enemy she
couldn't see.
Hanzo saw her coming as he reeled backward, and began to
teleport, but was
just that second too late. He was struck down, falling to the mat, the
fire
crawling over his invisible body.
Mai straightened up, tattered and burnt. "I may not be a ninja
by your
standards, fossil, but I am nevertheless." She gestured at his
motionless body
with a fan in her hand. "Welcome to the modern world, Hanzo-san. _Nippon
ichi_!"
[WINNER-MAI SHIRANUI-77 votes, Hanzo Hattori-51 votes, Draw-8, DKO-5]
As Mai got off of the ring, she noticed Andy standing there,
gesturing
frantically at her.
"What's up, Andy-san? Wasn't I great out there?"
"You were, Mai...I'm very proud of you..." Andy had turned a
very
interesting shade of red.
"What's the problem, Andy..." Mai's voice trailed off as she
followed
Andy's pointing hands, looking down at the ruin Hanzo's flames and sword
had
made of her fighting outfit. Blushing frantically, she covered herself
with a
fan as best she could and ran for the locker room.
Wanderer made sure he'd caught that on film. "It's her own
fault, really,
for fighting in a gownless evening strap." He turned to a wide-eyed
Hunter.
"That's the first time in DT history that someone's fought and won in
her
birthday suit, right?"
"Gleep."
"Thought so."
MATCH 6: VERMILION (BAT2) vs. BASARA (SS3)
"Come on, bloodbag, betrayer...dispatcher of lost souls..."
Basara
cackled. He was dancing back and forth, all the way across the ring
floor from
Vermilion, shaking his tri-bladed weapon menacingly. His was a lunatic's
waltz.
"Let's see what those toys can do!"
Vermilion shrugged, and obliged. Twice.
The bullets both entered Basara's chest less than an inch from
each other.
They cracked ribs, shredded organs, and came out Basara's back in a
spray,
leaving a single large hole the size of a basketball. A normal human
would have,
maybe, looked down at his chest, coughed, and said something piquant
before
falling over en route to a messy, quick braindeath.
Basara was, unfortunately, already dead.
Thus, the mortal wounds were merely a slight inconvenience. As
the
audience watched, they closed up within seconds, leaving no sign that
they'd
ever existed.
Vermilion looked down at his guns. Then he looked back at
Basara. Quietly,
he checked his ammunition. Then he looked back at Basara.
"Shouldn't you be falling down?" Vermilion asked as casually as
he could
manage. He seemed mildly disturbed. Anyone else would probably have been
panicking. "Any second now?"
Basara screamed maniacally, finding some kind of middle ground
between
laughing and crying. "I am beyond the grasp of your weapons, mortal, for
I have
already felt the touch of death. And you...*you* have robbed me of my
vengeance
against my killer! Prepare to enter the final darkness..." He raised his
weapon.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Vermilion looked over the
tops of
his sunglasses. "I haven't killed anyone from your dimension...except
that moron
Zankuro..."
"HIM!" Basara shrieked in anguish, flinging his tri-blade
through a portal
of absolute darkness. Vermilion raised his shotgun to shoot him again,
but was
intercepted by the blade spinning out of nowhere, gashing across his arm
and
chest. Crying out in pain, Vermilion snapped off a shot with his pistol,
missing
as Basara leapt into the darkness himself.
Vermilion turned around in a circle, trying to hold his wounded
arm and
his gun at the same time, looking for Basara. Of course, the inevitable
happened, and Basara reappeared right behind him. A vicious slash sent
the
assassin to his knees.
Kicking Vermilion onto his stomach, Basara crouched over him and
whispered
into his ear, his breath carrying the scent of old blood and crushed
bone. "Have
you ever lost anyone, assassin? Have you ever loved one so desperately
that to
lose them was no different from cutting out your own heart with a rusty
knife?"
Basara dug his blade into Vermilion's back, close to the spine, and
Vermilion
grimaced in pain. He did not cry out. "Now, have you ever wanted
revenge? Have
you ever clawed your way out of your own grave for it? Have you ever
sacrificed
everything or everyone you've ever wanted or known for that single shot
at that
one enemy?"
"Obviously not," Vermilion muttered through clenched teeth. His
guns were
in his hands, but he couldn't get a decent shot...
"Obviously," Basara murmured, running one cold hand along
Vermilion's
jawline. "Now, imagine that...and imagine the person you have been
brought back
to slay has been taken from you by some fool from some 'node' you've
never even
heard of. Imagine the rage, the hatred, the shame...and now imagine the
pain you
would inflict on whoever that fool was..." The blade quietly parted more
of
Vermilion's flesh.
Vermilion twisted suddenly, pulling the blade out of his back
with a wet
sound, and placed both of his guns against Basara's head with incredible
speed.
He gritted his teeth against the pain. With equal alacrity, Basara had
his
weapon at Vermilion's throat.
"I'm real sorry to hear about your lover," Vermilion hissed into
Basara's
face, his every word tinged with sarcasm, "but if you think I care about
you and
your little mission one way or another, then you left your brain in that
grave..."
"Time!" Kuroko yelled, waving his flags. "Fighters, move apart,
or risk
disqualification!"
Both of them, grudgingly, took their weapons away from each
other's skin
and backed to opposite ends of the ring, Vermilion because he wanted to
continue, Basara for no reasons save insanity and respect for Kuroko.
"This round's winner is Basara!" Ignoring Vermilion's objection,
Kuroko
continued. "Round 2! SHOUBU!"
Vermilion had had enough of Basara's insanity. As Basara sent
his scythe
hurtling through darkness a second time, Vermilion leaped into the air,
over the
reappearing blade, and completely unloaded both guns on Basara from
midair.
Basara fell backward, bullets blowing out most of his back, screaming in
something resembling pain. As the tri-blade returned to Basara's hand,
Vermilion
slammed another clip into his pistol.
"You will scream for a thousand years in the pits of the
netherworld,
mortal!" Basara screamed, throwing the blade at Vermilion.
"Promises, promises." Vermilion took aim, ignoring the blade
hurtling
towards his neck, and gently squeezed the trigger.
The shotgun shell's impact knocked Basara across the ring...and
over the
side. The tri-blade clattered to the mat as Basara tumbled into the
grass.
"I love this gun," he muttered.
"Ring out! Round to Vermilion!"
Basara climbed back into the ring, a look of absolute rage in
his eyes. As
Kuroko signaled him to begin the third round, Basara did nothing--save
stand in
one place and quiver. A field of reddish light gathered around him.
As Vermilion, slightly amused, brought his guns to bear, Basara
jumped at
him. The field behind them began flashing the dark blue of half past
midnight,
and all noise vanished save that of the fighters' breathing. Basara
vanished,
and the image of a woman, her arms and legs barely covering her nudity,
hovered
before Vermilion.
The assassin, not impressed, raised his guns...and the first
slash hit
him. Laughing, the naked woman appeared and reappeared around him, as
the now-
invisible Basara raved into him with attack after attack, cutting skin,
shredding cloth, the light in the ring strobing madly like a discotheque
from
hell. Vermilion found himself lying on the mat in a puddle of his own
blood.
"Now, it's time for you to go to sleep, little man..." Basara
reappeared,
landing catlike on his feet. "Sleep forever..."
"Not bloody likely."
Basara had not thought Vermilion capable of getting up. Basara
had been
wrong.
Snarling through the pain, Vermilion dodged to the side,
avoiding Basara's
blade, and started shooting before he was standing straight, reloading
almost as
an afterthought before continuing to fire. Bullets sang through the air
like
sudden hail. Some ricocheted off of Basara's raised block, burying
themselves in
the mat or shattering against the ring's forcefield, but most anchored
in his
chest and arms. Basara's healing powers could compensate for the damage,
but not
for all of it at once, and blood drizzled slowly down the revenant's
body.
He never stopped laughing.
As Vermilion stopped, finally, to put fresh bullets in both
guns, Basara
vanished into his darkness once more. Vermilion's eyes widened, and he
threw
himself to the side, rolling away from Basara as he reappeared. The
tri-blade
was faster, though, and it slashed across Vermilion's other arm as he
rolled.
Vermilion got up to find the blade spinning towards him again,
the chain
emerging from out of a second portal of darkness, Basara holding the
other end
and continuing to cackle madly despite his wounds.
Muttering something obscene, Vermilion raised his shotgun and
fired--at
the tri-blade. The bullet impacted in the center of the weapon, and it
shattered, the three sharp edges sticking into the ring's surface.
Basara cried out, finally stopping his laugh, as his chain went
slack.
Vermilion quietly smirked, and fired a second time; Basara's kneecap
blew out
with a harsh crack. Clutching at this new wound, Basara pitched over,
trying to
get up before Vermilion could--
"Too late."
Vermilion put one foot on Basara and turned him over, his pistol
aimed
directly between Basara's eyes.
"Good night, Basara. Pleasant dreams."
Vermilion pulled the trigger.
[WINNER-VERMILION-71 votes, Basara-50 votes, Draw-11, DKO-9]
MATCH 7: OMEGA RUGAL (KOF95) vs. AMAKUSA (SS3)
"Captain, she canna take much more'a this," Hunter quipped in a
mock
Scottish accent. He glared at the computer in front of him, which was
trying
valiantly to maintain the forcefield around the ring at the center of
the
DreamArena. Unfortunately for some of the onlookers, the two previous
rounds
had taken their toll on the poor computer. Rugal and Amakusa had been
quite
busy channeling unimaginable amounts of power from the mysterious and
deadly
force of Orochi and the not-so-mysterious-but-equally-deadly force of
the Dark
Guy, respectively. All this power was straining the Arena's forcefield
to its
limits. It had given way a few times, but, as the only victims were
from Killer
Instinct and Time Killers, no one had batted an eyelash as long as the
forcefield came back online in short order. It had done so up to now,
but with
the match in the third round and the murderous force only escalating,
the Dream
Tournament staff were getting very nervous indeed.
Amakusa had come away the clear victor in the first round;
barrages of
Reppukens and Kaiser Waves had not found their marks, but had instead
battered
the forcefield while Amakusa's Underworld Lord Blasts had connected more
often.
Plenty of Amakusa's dark orbs had, of course, contributed to the strain
upon the
computer, but those had been shot as fakeouts anyway, and Amakusa sealed
his
victory with a vicious series of mystic slashes and his ever-popular
Judgement
Blow (which the Time Killers [well, the live ones, anyway] had all
cheered,
yelling "Bitchslap! Bitchslap!"), capped off with his Legions of Hades
Blitz.
That last move, as it involved opening a dimensional portal, had
actually set
the forcefield computer smoking and demanding a 401K plan and a
therapist.
The next round had seen Omega Rugal (nee Bernstein) abusing the
forcefield
more and more, as he switched tactics and proceeded to Demon Press the
bejeezus
out of his opponent. Amakusa was enraged, and ended up missing his mark
as much
as Rugal had in the previous round. The Heavenly Child of Shimabara got
one
good shot in-- a Dark Destroyer that had pinned Rugal against the edge
of the
ring. Rugal had sneered and retaliated, crushing his opponent against
the
opposite "wall" and unleashing the full force of the Orochi power upon
him in
the form of a God Press... and a good deal of that force, residually,
into the
forcefield. The computer had considered going into the less stressful
world of
Wall Street financial trading, or perhaps taking up mah-jongg.. Nobody
ever
tried to blow up mah-jongg computers.
And now, the third round was making the two previous ones look
like a game
of checkers played between two wizened, senile old men. So much
otherworldly
power was being channeled by the two bosses, so fiery was the desire of
each to
annihilate the other, that something Really Bad(tm) was bound to happen.
"Something really bad is happening," gulped Emerald into his
comlink to
the control booth.
"Tell me something I don't GRRKphTaack," began Wanderer, unable
to finish
his sentence. Had he been in the midst of drinking anything, it
probably would
have come out of his nose; as it was, he looked and sounded like he had
just
tried to inhale a large chunk of meat. Hunter settled for being
speechless, as
it seemed less painful.
"I AM... THE DARK GUY."
"I AM OROCHI MADE MANIFEST."
The arena was filled with a horrible blackness that seemed to
radiate out
from holes in the fabric of space. Then a horrible twin glow suffused
the faces
of the audience members who had not yet run for cover, as two entities
of pure
evil warped into being, seriously upsetting the Dream Tournament staff.
Two
simultaneous cries of "Master!" rang out through the arena, and each of
the
combatants began to implore his respective lord to grant him more power
to
destroy his rival. Hunter's reaction was immediate, and he muttered
something
into his headset.
Emerald had beat a strategic retreat to a point just behind the
doors to
the main arena and was trying to act nonchalant. The words that entered
his
earpiece completely blew away any semblance of calm. "You want me to do
WHAT?"
he exclaimed into his comlink. "...no way. No way. NO! HUNTER, I'M
NOT...
Oh. Oh, all right, fine, but you owe me SO big for this." He closed
his eyes,
which had snapped open in shock, steeled his resolve, and strode boldly
back
towards the halted conflict.
"Gentlemen," Emerald half-shouted, and to his surprise, Rugal
and Amakusa
stopped and turned their heads to look at him. "May I remind you," he
quickly
continued before they could hurl anything at him, "that the Dream
Tournament
will tolerate no outside interference. You, Ambrosia," and here Emerald
could
feel the stare of the Dark Guy pierce his soul, "need only be reminded
of what
happened a scant while ago at UVR2."
"Rat bastard demon god," Wanderer grumbled.
"If need be, we CAN eject you forcefully. You may want to
inform your
rival entity of that incident if he's not aware. You are free to stay
and
watch, but at the first sign that _anything_ else is going on, you will
regret
ever having visited this node.." Emerald hoped ardently that he wasn't
shaking
like a leaf as he stared at the two powerful entities.
"I will say this: he's got cojones," breathed Hunter.
"I just hope he's got a will drawn up," replied Wanderer.
A long silence was broken by the voice of the Orochi. "YOUR
PROPOSITION
IS ACCEPTABLE," it uttered, making the very air around it roil and
seethe. It
turned to the Dark Guy and asked, "A WAGER, THEN? YOUR AGENT AGAINST
MINE? FOR
THE USUAL SUM, OF COURSE."
"INDEED," replied Ambrosia. "FIGHT, AMAKUSA, AS THOUGH YOUR
VERY LIFE
DEPENDS ON IT!" The two demons withdrew their presences to a pair of
watchful,
burning eyes.
Amakusa gulped in fear, then grinned as a sudden surge of power
rushed
through him. He rushed at Rugal, burning with a deathly light as though
the
very hand of the Dark Guy held him. His orb grew to the brilliance of a
sun as
he brought it down in a deadly slash at Rugal...
...who, burning with power himself, neatly dodged and caught
Amakusa by
the neck with his cybernetic hand. "DIE, WIZARD!" he screamed, and
channeled
his full power into Amakusa, electrocuting him and crushing his larynx.
There was a strangled cry, suddenly cut short, and Amakusa fell
to the
ground, dead as disco. Rugal's laugh of victory was interrupted,
however, as he
looked down at his bloodstained hand and saw it disappearing. "NO! To
suffer
such a fate! I'll be back... you jerks!"
And with that, both he and Amakusa vanished before the eyes of
the
mystified audience.
"Damn. I guess Amakusa really was his great-great-grandfather
or whatever
it was," Emerald said after a long silence. "I guess that makes this
the
closest equivalent to a..."
[DOUBLE ELIMINATION: Omega Rugal-54 votes, Amakusa-35 votes, Draw-11,
DKO-41
(more votes received than Amakusa; a new record for number of DKO votes
received
in a single match)]
"HOW UNFORTUNATE," grunted the Dark Guy to Orochi. "SHALL WE
HAVE LUNCH,
THEN?"
"I WAS ACTUALLY JUST POPPING OVER TO BILL GATES' PLACE. CARE TO
JOIN ME?"
"CERTAINLY."
"Uh, Wanderer?"
"Yes, Hunter?"
"Is this your bottle of Jack Daniels?"
"No. How'd that get there?"
+That's mine,+ intoned the security computer.
"Oh," said Wanderer and Hunter as one. Wanderer paused before
saying with
a slight grin, "You may want to save some of that for Emerald."
(
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