Welcome to Murderworld - [modplot] [Arena Start]

[legionnpcs]

Who| Everyone in Murderworld plot
What| Arena Start
Where| All throughout the Arena
When| N/a
Warnings/Notes| Just the usual psycho supervillain monologue stuff

They all wake up scattered throughout Murderworld, some of them alone, some of them with partners, some of them clustered together. Each will find themselves in strange new surrounds. None of them will have any recollection of how they got there. One minute they were on their spy mission, then there was the feeling of being stunned from behind.

They awaken at the exact same time as their captor gives their nervous systems a jolt via the nanites in the air. For a moment, they just hear a man's jeering

"Wakey wakey."

When they're all awake, the voice continues on.

"You know, I'm jealous of you Legionnaires. After this, you're going to go down in infamy. Footage of your every move is being streamed live to Harrub's political and financial elite, and after that daring attempt at spying and what I'm sure will be your equally daring attempts at escape and rescue, this is going to be an arena they never forget."

Near each of them, a huge, colorful hologram sparks to life, revealing the image of a man.

"Who's the badass bogeyman with his own planetoid?"



"Now I know what you're wondering. The four W's. Who am I? Oh, I'm just someone that fell through that space rift on Phelolu and got recruited by parties with certain...interests. Since then, I've been working for the Harrubian government. The name's Arcade."

"What is this? This happens to be my best work yet. The Harrubians in charge used to get rid of political dissidents and their families the old-fashioned way -- with a bullet to the back of the melon and a shallow, unmarked grave -- but I've spiced things up. Now they fight for their lives in my arenas -- a little idea I got from a series of kids' books I read in the pen. Once a month, a sizable number of Harrubian deplorables enter, and by the end of the month, only one leaves."

"'Why me?' you're probably asking, but you already know the answer to that one. You nosed in just a little too much around Harrub and now the Harrubian government wants you gone. Lucky for them and unlucky for you, a few members of the UP council wanted you gone just as much and tipped them off about your spying. Politicians, amirite? Can't live with 'em -- and in your case, Legionnaires, that's especially true. The UP biting the hand that protects them, when this isn't even your home universe -- that has got to hurt."

"Where are you? This is my master work. See, I really love watching people die -- I'm a little sick in the head, what're you gonna do? For years, I used to build these elaborate superhero death traps, but my dead-superhero-to-deathtrap ratio was embarrassingly low. So when I got pulled into this universe, I decided to shake things up a bit. This planetoid is filled with my mercenary Tributes that...help things along, as well as traps, monsters, dangerous terrain, and paranoid dissidents so desperate to save their own miserable lives they'll knock your brains out with a rock over a hunk of cheese."

"An impenetrable shield is around the entire arena, blocking off all communication and attempts at escape. You're completely cut off. Only the Harrubian government knows you're here. Nobody's coming to get you, and even if they tried, trust me, they wouldn't even know where to look. You want food? You want medicine, you want water? It's all here but you'll have to fight for it.'

"The arena started 10 days ago and there are are 20 left. One way or another, in 20 days, only one of you Legionnaires or political dissidents is walking out alive -- admittedly, the lucky winner will be walking out into being locked in some hole-in-the-ground Harrubian political prison for the rest of your natural life, but you'll still be far less defunct than everyone else."

"Kill or be killed, it'll be great. Now, I know what you're thinking: 'you can't make me kill my friends or innocent Harrubians.' That's true, I can't make you do anything, and there wouldn't be much fun if I could. But life's a game, kids -- you're either playing or you're losing it. This game will crack you open and let the real you out. The you that you keep crammed down where nobody else can see."

His voice goes extra sinister.

"Deep down maybe a few of you are real, genuine, big damn heroes, I'll grant you that. But the rest? Cowards. Liars. Cheats. Thieves. And at least one natural born bone-and-gristle killer or two. So, remember, kids: play unfair, get messy, and make mistakes -- preferably some fatal ones, they're great for the ratings."

Arcade turns away from whatever is filming him for the hologram, and then turns back.

"Oh, and before I forget... Welcome to Murderworld."

He holds his hands up and makes finger guns at the camera. The holograms of Arcade explode into a million pieces and fade away, leaving all the Legionnaires to face the dangerous forces around them.

[ooc: Player can use this post to establish their characters' initial reactions to arriving in the arena, but otherwise, threading for the plot will take place in posts players make for themselves.]

Comments

[fantasmaniac]

The basic commentary has him tilting the book in his grip, his head tilt following suit. He lets out a dry scoff, feeling the weight to see just how hard he'd have to throw the thing down.

"Scrapbook," he corrects. "My first Death Arena."

He says it with little humor, and turns towards the room. Tossing it upwards to give it some momentum, he lets it slam heavily onto the steel plated floor.

[mylawn]

76’s eyebrows crest over the top of his visor, arched in both skepticism and surprise. He wants to ask where the heck he got that—please don’t say it’s something you made and brought for yourself, Gabe. He’s trying to have faith in you.

There will be time to ask about that later, if he remembers. For now, all he can do is heft his rifle and have it at the ready as the heavy book comes crashing down on what he’s sure are pressure plates.

[fantasmaniac]

He knows what you're thinking!!! Those stupid gray eyebrows are hard to miss and he tries not to bristle at the fact that Jack Morrison may be, once again, thinking about some dumb bullshit. Though he says nothing as he prepares for what may happen next.

As the weight makes the thin steel plates shudder, just a layer over the real foundation of the floor, the mechanisms in the wall begin to creak and groan loudly. It masks the sound of the robots slowly closing in on them, making way more noise than they should be. The speed of the crushing isn't instantaneous—age and rust had seen to it that it at least work for its desired result. The pistons push the wall plates of thick steel in sharp, jolting movements, scraping metal shrieking as they finally collide in three increments.

The resulting sound is a boom so deafening that even Reaper has to turn his head slightly in what normally would've been a wince. He looks behind, past 76, at the door before peering into the room behind the plates.

"Wipe that dumb look off your face and check the other side."

He's not sure what's happened to the book, but he can only assume that it at least got shredded up pretty good considering it'd been laying horizontal. There are no visible doors on ground level on his side, but there seems to be a hole on the ceiling.

"One ventilation entrance above."

[mylawn]

Yep, there it goes. It doesn't happen as predictably as he anticipated, but he can only imagine that if they stepped in there first, they'd be dead now. So there's that.

They're lucky in that the panels seem to have frozen in place now that they've been activated, though 76 isn't discounting the possibility that they'll replace themselves and crush them both in a new and interesting way.

There's a quip to be made here, about how Reaper can't see his face, but 76 lets it go in favor of entering the room and inspecting the ventilation shaft. He kind of wants to comment about how Reaper can just ghost his way up there, but he's already focused on the mission, and is using the now-exposed mechanisms to squeeze his way into the back area and start climbing up towards the maintenance shaft.

"Up here."

[fantasmaniac]

Quip or not, he does the ghosty thing anyway. After 76 worms his way in through the metal plates and starts climb, he disintegrates into a wispy streak, making a quick but full sweep of the room before flying up after 76. Seems this is their only exit.

It's unsure about how much room they'll have up here for the both of them, but he can at least stay in this form for a few seconds longer to figure that out. From what he could see below, the hole in the ceiling is past the grated ceiling, so everything is just a guess until he gets in there. It could be just a small tunnel for all he knows. Most ventilation shafts are.

[mylawn]

Yeah, there it is. Look at this ghost asshole. The good news, he supposes, is that it’s going to be very hard to kill each other wedged up in some maintenance vents. Now that they seem to be out of immediate danger, 76 finds a moment to think about the true nature of Reaper’s powers. If there’s not enough room in the shaft for the two of them, can he just stay a spooky wraith cloud? Can he talk as a spooky wraith cloud?

76 guesses he’s going to find out soon enough as he wedges himself into the crawl space. He’s not at all a small man, but the shaft affords him at least a little room to move. They’ll be uncomfortably close, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about getting stuck.

“Any more ideas?”

[fantasmaniac]

He can't do anything as a spooky wraith cloud, unfortunately. Maybe that's fortunate for 76. The ventilation shaft makes for little elbow room, and the fact that he's carrying the bazooka and the syringes too (ditching the tarp, as the bazooka is strapped over and around his shoulder, and syringes tucked into one of his belts) only make it that much worse. It'd be nice if he could just ghost around forever, but it takes quite a bit of energy and focus.

"Keep moving." He snarls, his top half solidifying first, easing himself into the space so that he doesn't just wedge himself against the walls. He's got a little extra bulk on his shoulders, not including the weaponry.

The nearest exit will do. They don't have to move far. Just enough to get away from the room and into the next hallway. As they crawl along, they'll eventually come upon grates along the walls of their crawl space to see below them. Any place that's not a gaping hole or another trap room is ideal.

[mylawn]

All this gets very awkward very quickly, and the most 76 can do is press onward, making an attempt not to think about the closeness of their quarters, or the fact that Reaper is behind him. He's not claustrophobic, but this situation puts him on edge, so he aims to get out of it as soon as possible.

Which means that as soon as he sees an empty room through the grates, he's kicking it in, dropping down heavily to the floor below. Reckless, maybe, but better than staying in a ventilation shaft with Reyes. No booby traps activate, so he calls it like he sees it.

"Clear."

[fantasmaniac]

If Reaper is in any way uncomfortable, he doesn't make it known. He suspects 76 is, what with being up front, unable to see what Reaper may be doing. There's a sort of secret glee to that, knowing he is probably very uncomfortable. It's only confirmed when 76 knocks out the first grate they come across.

He dissolves into mist again, floating down swiftly after confirming that Jack hasn't been smashed to a pulp.

"Too cozy for you, Jack?" It almost sounds smug, as he gives the room a once over.

[mylawn]

“Just a little.”

He doesn’t want to betray that discomfort, but come on. They’re trapped in a death arena, were just inches apart in a ventilation shaft, neither of them tried to kill the other, and 76 has no idea what to make of what just happened. He’s uncomfortable. He’s going to continue to be uncomfortable.

What he has confirmed, however, is that this truce is perhaps holding. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, though, and now that the has the chance, thinks it might be prudent to extricate himself from the situation.

“I think we should split up. Don’t make me regret it.”

[fantasmaniac]

It's hard to stop that sardonic chuckle from coming out. He shrugs slightly, looking for the nearest exit. What with tailing him being 76's idea in the first place, Reaper can't help but find the suggestion funny.

"You already know I will. Maybe you should just stick with me, Jackie. It'll be so much easier for you when you've got someone else calling the shots."

He's cackling softly now, standing where he is until 76 makes his move first. Though honestly, splitting up would be just fine. Better than fine. He just wants to get under 76's skin one last time before he splits off onto his own path.