NyNES: Might of the Pen

Indeed, you have a day or so.

He Reflected on Life

Sybrus Brayne winced slightly as he finished wrapping the gauze around his shoulder. Washing the sticky salve applied to the burned flesh beneath the cloth off of his hands, he splashed some water onto his face and looked up at the mirror. A cold, damp cloth band circled his head, soothing the large swelling on the back of his head, and another was wrapped around his chest. The gauze bandages and their wrappings covered all of the contacts between his organic and mechanical portions. Sybrus noted with annoyance that movements at his shoulder and hip would frequently catch the loose ends of the material, slowly pulling it loose. He felt a brief moment of anger towards his cybernetic half, which quickly faded to annoyance, then back to simple acceptance. What had happened, had happened.

Sybrus shook himself a little- he knew that fatalism was no way to think. Of course he could have altered the circumstances leading to the accident- it had never even needed to happen. The whole series of events leading to his presence on some bizarre island- that was apparently in an entirely different world, no less- could have been avoided, had he known. What matters is that now he knew- it wouldn’t happen again.

He gave a sarcastic grin at his reflection, as if to affirm that he was still the prime mover in his own life.

“I’m in control now.” he joked at the mirror, waving his head from side to side as he spoke. Feeling dizzy for a moment, he steadied himself, and waved his finger in front of his face- his eyes weren’t tracking properly. Clearly, the after-effects of his concussion were still present.

Splashing some more cold water around his headband, Sybrus started off down the dark hallway. Feeling his way through the dark, he entered a room lit only by a square, glowing screen. He sat down on a wooden stool and opened up the computer.

The computer- yes, that was one of the many things that had struck Sybrus Brayne as odd. Its design was like nothing he had ever seen- it resembled what he suspected historical models from several centuries in the past may have looked like. A simple, visual interface, a tactile-computational rolling sensor device, and a word-processing board. It was painfully underdeveloped, but it worked- and its lack of physical intrusiveness was a welcome break from Sybrus’ experiences with technology.

The screen flickered on, revealing several open documents regarding the treatment of bruised ribs, burns, and concussions. Sybrus carefully tapped out a word onto the computer.

M-A-P.

He pressed the select button and waited a moment. A series of maps appeared. An image of the familiar world immediately caught his attention, and he selected it. The markings upon it, however, were bizarre. Countless small divisions of different colours were scattered at random across the earth. He looked at his home sector, to find it divided up by a collection of green, yellow and pink divisions.

Wait... was this a historical map? Before the corporations took over? Was he in the past right now? Sybrus began to type something else.

C-A-R-N-I-V-A-L-E.

Nothing of use appeared. Some festivals, some articles written in gibberish... nothing.

Sybrus pressed a lit button on the computer, causing its screen to fade back to black. He got up, knocking over the stool, and then slipped out of the room, wandering back towards the lit regions of his adopted home. He considered his discoveries. Either this island was a bizarre playplace of the most obscenely wealthy corporations imaginable, or something utterly bizarre was happening. Nolan’s energies and electricities- they were unlike anything he had ever seen, and Sybrus liked to think that he had a very firm grasp of technology. All of the people he had encountered and heard of- the ancient ‘Roman’ Germanicus, Anaesthesia the pain-killing surgical killer, Jiefin the simple but good-hearted brute, Cabera the... he had no idea what Cabera was- a shapeshifter, a time traveler.. For that matter, he should have been dead- Anaesthesia as well... Anyway, Sybrus couldn’t imagine any of these people coming from his world- unless they all lived on islands as bizarre as this one.

Sybrus shook his head, stepping out of his home and into the fading noon sun, quickly giving away to dusk. It had been two days since his fight- he hadn’t checked on Nolan for a few hours. There shouldn’t be much need, he was in good hands, and seemed to be recovering. Wandering off, he heard a bustle and a sound of voices begin to build up ahead. Music and laughter emanated from Carnivale’s bar. Shrugging, Sybrus walked through the empty, open streets and into the lively building.

He Spoke with his Rival

The bar was dimly lit, but full of activity. A reddish light permeated the building, with some strobing green coming from the far end, where a rhythmic, synthesized beat played on a loop. Where had all of these spectators come from? Were there any other competitors here? Sybrus noted that most of the people here were dressed in a similar style- heavy, canvas-like blue pants and cotton-synthetic shirts, with a variety of things written on them. For a moment, Sybrus felt an intense alienation- as if he was irreconcilably different from this group- it was a different culture, a different world- were they going to do something to him here?

No- humans are humans, no matter where they are. Sybrus noticed several people staring at his left leg, and arm- if his guesses about the technological development of this world were correct, it was probably because they’d never seen anything like it before. To be fair, even in Sybrus’ experience, large-scale cybernetic replacement was rare.

“Ah! A competitor!”

Sybrus looked up to see a bartender, a bushy-moustached man with a white pinstriped shift and a black apron.

“You’re the cyborg, Brayne right?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, drinks are free for the competitors. What’ll it be?”

“Uh... oh, anything. I’m... not used to having a choice.”

The bartender raised an eye, shrugged, then responded.

“I’ll get you something- oh, by the way, nice fight. Classy work there, carrying off the guy’s body- did he live?”

“Nolan? Yes, he’s alright, last I checked on him. Well, not alright, but-”

“I get it. You don’t see people living very often through these- the kid over there filled his opponent with lead just in front of here.”

Sybrus craned his neck to see where the man was pointing.

“Wait, filled with lead?”

“Figure of speech- he shot him.”

“Ahh.”

The bartender scooted off to somewhere else along the busy counter. Sybrus grinned a little at the man’s sociable nature, then looked over again to see a lanky figure approaching him. He pulled up a stool and slid up next to Sybrus.

“So, another man from the tourney, I see. Something... something brain?”

“Sybrus.”

“Tha’s funny- you ever notice how much your name sounds like... Cyber Brain?”

“It’s occurred to me.”

“Given that you’re a cyborg and all... so you’re at the tournament?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Actually, I’m Kyle, you probably saw me when the voice called us.”

“I think I did- but it was pretty dark.”

“You know, your legsh are kinda weird.”

“You’re ‘kinda’ drunk.”

Kyle seemed to sober up.

“Not really, it just makes it easier to get to know people. So, what brought you to Carnivale?”

“I was wondering the same of you- I got sent here by the Vernelli corporation.”

“Go on.” urged Kyle. Sybrus accepted a glass from the bartender, took a cautious sip, then a gulp, and spoke.

“Well, you know how it is with them- they say that you have to do something, you can’t really argue it.”

“Vernelli? Are they Italian or something?”

“Italian?”

“You know, the boot-shaped country in Europe?”

“Kyle, I’m about to change the subject- are you from this world?”

“Huh? I’m from earth, yeah.”

“What sector are you from?”

“Sector? Uh, America?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“You’re saying that I’m drunk?”

“You don’t know the Vernelli corporation? Okay, let me try to go from the start. I’m from Sector 17- does that mean anything to you?”

“Is that a geographical region?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Okay, do you know the names of large bodies of water?”

“Like the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean, Mediterranean Sea-“

“Yes, like those- do you know any numbered seas? Sea 6?”

“Uh... none that I can think of.”

“The Cherno?”

“No.”

“The Pontic?”

“N... wait, as in the archaic term for the Black Sea?”

“As in the one with the single opening to the larger sea, which then has a single open to the global ocean system?”

“Yes! I know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, well I live in the region to the west of that sea, and in my world, that’s called Sector Eleven.”

“Your world?”

“Yes. Okay, we both know there’s something very strange going on here. We’ve got people here who I would venture to say are nothing like those we have any experience with- is that right?”

“Well, I’ve met some weird people...”

“But is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so this world is different from mine because it is apparently divided up into tiny, regional entities with small corporations whose only produce is administration.”

“Countries, and we call the administration things governments.”

“Okay, whereas mine has corporations, who are not geographically limited. However, the maps look the same. Now, I know that a lot of history in my world doesn’t get taught- I’m aware of the age before mine, but not the details. I think that I might be in the past right now, but in the same world- you see, we can understand each other speak.”

“True.”

“Also, this world seems to be a few hundred years behind my world in terms of technological development, if your computing interfaces are at all representative.”

“So you’re from... an alternate future dimension?”

“I think that everyone here, yourself included, is from an alternate dimension, and that this island, Carnivale, is some sort of nexus. As far as I can tell, everyone came here from some other, alternate version of this world, by seemingly normal means- I came by water.”

“I drove.”

“To an island?”

“Most of the way. But that’s interesting- I just assumed that you were some government prosthetic experiment...”

Sybrus’ thoughts flashed back to the Vernelli Corporation for a moment, before snapping back to the present.

“Ahem. No, not government.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, pondering these breakthoughts.

“So, who do you think’s behind this?”

“I was told that it was a rival corporation.”

“I never really thought about it.”

“It’s worth investigating. I’ve got more than enough questions about this place- what it’s used for, who the voice is, what’s with the prize...”

“It’s quite something... tell me Sybrus, do you have... family?”

Sybrus paused for a moment, swallowing.

“Yes. I think I still do.”

Sybrus took a long drink, then roughly put his glass back on the counter, his mechanical fingers beginning to drum restlessly. Kyle seemed to be about to ask another question, but held it back in.

“I’ve got some family,” he volunteered, “You know... around.”

Sybrus nodded, giving Kyle an oblique look. The two were silent again.

“So, here’s hoping that the voice doesn’t say we have to fight.” said Sybrus, raising his glass. Kyle tapped it casually with his, “And if we do, I’ll try to keep it non-lethal. Would you do that as well?”

Kyle stretched back, an odd look crossing his face.

“I’ll think about it.”


OOC@orangelex44: You can continue the conversation if you’d like, or just let it end. I hope I didn’t misrepresent Kyle too much- he’s got some interesting stuff going on.

OOC: Great stories, Iggy!

So, yeah, I'm going away until the 7th or something, so you'll get the two or more stories there. I'll PM Iggy my powers and have him think creatively. So, yeah, I think things will be fine.

If you have any questions regarding Sybrus, ask away!

Just a reminder: less than a week to deadline.

I need until the 9th.

lord_joakim said:

I need until the 9th.

Click to expand...

Given you have been out for the majority of the round and let me know beforehand, that's tolerable. You have your 24 hour extension.


For the rest of you, time is running out.

My writing is ongoing.

I will PM you a summary shortly.

Night had fallen. Not that it made a difference to Icekommander. Eyes shifted side to side, piercing through the gloom as if it wasn’t there. For him perhaps it wasn’t. The last living contestant he saw was Germanicus, but he had passed several other bodies. He was hardly the only hunter out tonight, but he was the king of them.

Suddenly a shape fell out of the mist. A small girl, obviously already aware of him, peered up at him smiling. Despite her looks she had to be cunning to have survived even this single day. With a wave of his hand his two minions stepped out of the air. He then felt her mind begin to move against his. An unusual occurrence, since he had never mastered the art of attacking mind to mind. But two thousand year old defences slid into place to block this invasion.

It was a good attempt, save for two things. First, this person had obviously never encountered any sort of stiff resistance to her mind’s attacks. Second as her mind brushed his, he pulled information out of it. She was Anesthesia, and this invasion was not an attack, but rather an attempt to block one of those peculiar human feelings from reaching his brain. An interesting tactic, but hardly a battle winning one, quite obviously she had several more tricks up her sleeve.

She giggled and then frowned, but more from confusion than anger or frustration. Icekommander gathered the water in the air and froze it in the shape of a sword, and took a step forward. Another giggle, and she bolted backwards, far faster than she should have been able to go.

“Interesting tricks” Icekommander boomed “ But perhaps you should put a little more research into your foes to make sure you haven’t pulled out more than you can handle”. His sword melted, and then reformed into a sharp spear. With a quick wind up he hurled the ice spear at the spot where Anesthesia’s head was. She dodged the spear, right, and then around him, but as the spear whistled through the air just moments after she started moving, she felt an icy windblast against the side of her face.

Anesthesia smiled, despite the confusion this was causing her. This man could block her attempts to keep him from feeling pain, and bring forth cold out of the heat their surroundings? No matter, he would die as the rest of them had. Jiefin had surprised her, but that was a one of a kind occurrence. She was confident of that. It appeared so did someone else. She pulled out her knife.

At once she hurtled under her target, this Iceman. She encountered no resistance, his limbs might as well have been trapped in molasses however fast he was. With three quick strokes she attempted to ham string her opponent. Her first two bounced off of ice that wasn’t there when she started the swing. Her third swing didn’t encounter the same icy shield, and cut into the mans leg, but rather than biting into his leg, it merely shaved off a small bit of ice. Then she was away from him, and behind her she heard the ice that had blocked her first two attacks hit the shatter on the ground, and two more whistles in the air, as icicles from the air whizzed in the air behind her. They seemed to come from the two blobs of ice that had appeared shortly after the man had noticed her.

Icekommander was more amused than hurt. “I see you do have more tricks. Hamstringing eh? It would have worked too, had you not faced as serious a foe. Well I’d say good-bye now.” He made a different gesture, and suddenly ice shot from the ground into her right foot. A single spear had gone up through her foot. A brief instant of pain hit her, and then it was gone, transferred into a fly that was buzzing around, waiting for a new carcass. It gave a spasm before crashing to the ground, as it became pain. She wrenched her foot off the icicle, and ran. Icekommander had formed a new sword and had begun to advance on her, when she was running again. This time one of the minions was her target. She ran up, jumped, smashed it with both her knives, rolled in the air and hit the ground running. As her knives moved through the target, the ice than held it together lost all semblances of internal integrity and it shattered. She felt several shards of ice hit her; one was stuck in her upper back. It was no matter. The fly gave another spasm.

Information ran through Icekommander brain, as his centuries old mind computed what he had learned. Of course. When she invaded his mind, she attempted to block it from pain. Thus she should be able to block her own pain as well. This made her different from most humans, who would crumble under the force of the pain on their minds. She was like another golem, fighting until her body could no longer move. He briefly wondered if she would bleed to death, but that was something that didn’t matter. He would fight her until she dropped dead, one way or another. Anesthesia knew his capacities and if she had something to effectively combat him she would have used it already. Well he ha said he was going to finish the fight, so it was time to get on with it. With three flicks of his wrist he sent as many ice shard hurtling towards her position.

The first was sent just over her head. She realized this slightly too late, as she began to duck, the second went towards her left arm. She threw herself out of the way, only to realize her mistake. The final shard was now going straight towards her. It slammed into her upper right torso. The force threw her back, and it stayed quivering where it had struck her. She ripped it out and snapped it, now laughing. The fly was now paralysed with pain, no longer moving. She formulated her own plan, and promptly and executed it.

Much like when she had taken out his first minion, she ran towards her opponent and jumped and spun in the air. She rotated just out of reach of his sword, and began to swing at his exposed back. She noticed his head was a whitish blue and she swung, once, twice, three times, as she moved in the air, so slowly to her own mind and so fast to everyone else. Those first three swings all encountered the ice shield, the fourth bounced off the back of his head. Now fully facing Icekommander’s back, Anesthesia smashed one knife into his shoulder, and the second into his head.


Behind her she heard the sound she hoped for, shattering. She hit the ground after spinning a full 360 degrees. Icekommander’s arm was now a thousand pieces, but the knife to the head lacked the desired effect. With a grimace, Icekommander pulled out the knife, froze it and smashed it into the ground, shattering the blade with the largest part burying its self in the ground. Another gesture and his arm slowly began reappearing

“A good final effort. But you have made a fatal mistake; my essence is in my chest, not in the head. And it is protected my ice so cold lava won’t melt it, trust me, it was once tried. Maybe one of your knives could have pierced it’s shell and let it low out, but I very much doubt it. And the question is now academic. Enjoy your time in whatever afterlife you humans have come up with now”

He took two steps forward, and a hail of ice shot towards her. She put up her arms, and so much ice stuck in them, that her very arm froze, and ice began deflecting off and going elsewhere. Unable to take the constant pounding, Anesthesia began to back up, faster than most men could run. Then an innocuous splinter of ice began speeding towards her. It hit her arm just below the wrist. It shattered, and a small jagged piece shaped like a pin bounced off at a thirty-seven degree angle, and moved down.

The fly continued to writhe, trapped by pain immeasurable. Its very existence was torment. If it went to hell it would feel like heaven. Then it ended. That single pin like sliver of ice pierced the fly’s brain, ending its life no longer held by pain, as it could no longer feel pain. That enormous build up of pain raced back along the line to its owner. Anesthesia turned to run as it caught up with her. Before she could find another outlet, that instant of total pain ended her life, as her brain was unable to take it. Her heart failed and she fell. The pain still having to go somewhere ravaged every living thing within one hundred meters of her.

Icekommander watched that second go by, when suddenly Anesthesia fell over, longer resisting. He felt a wave of pain flow over him, but his essence, protected as it was could no more feel it than a rock. He walked over to her, and looked her over. Strange how her ability could suddenly fail on her like that, but the mysteries of man could be contemplated somewhere else. He walked back over to where her knife that was buried in his shoulder lay on the ground. He picked it up and flicked it towards her. It flipped end over end before burying it’s self in Anesthesia’a forehead. Her smile seemed to freeze. She stopped bleeding, her blood turned to Ice. Icekommander passed by her, and continued walking. There were others, and he was a hunter.






I like this one a bit more than my round one entry. Probably because I liked Fuschia's first story quite a bit, so I knew I had to write better this time.

Ugh, I'll try to get my story in today. Lots of stuff going on though.

Edit: Yeah, my creativity and initiative are pretty low right now, so I probably won't get my entry in.

The power and internet are finally back on! What rotten timing- fortunately, I've been working on an outline for my story while the power was off. I should be able to get the story done before I go to sleep- albeit a few hours after the deadline.

Longer than I intended, and perhaps running a wee bit close to the deadline... BUT IT'S DONE.

************************************************** ***********************


TURN TWO SUBMISSION: A Technicality... kinda

I will be allowing a little leeway time, as those entries not already submitted are in progress (which is a definite improvement). Get them in quick.

Thanks for being good sports so far, and the stories have been great

I'll edit my story in sometime tomorrow. My apologies for the delay, but I've been really, really busy this week.

He Confronted Tok-Tok

Sybrus Brayne stood comfortably in a cart, stalled on the peak of the park’s larger roller coaster. The paint, once vivid red and maroon, was faded and flaked to a dull, dusty brown. He scanned the horizon, carefully searching for any signs of his opponent. This time, he would not be caught off guard.

In his head, Sybrus went over his situation. In his last battle, unpreparedness had led to injury- he felt the tender flesh on his left side with a wince. This time, it would be him who struck the first blow, who ended the fight quickly and with as little lasting damage as possible.

Who was his enemy then? Tok-Tok... the strange one.

“Hah!”

Sybrus held back a grin of mixed feelings- amusement, curiosity, and regret. As if anyone fighting on this island was anything less than utterly bizarre. Tok-Tok reminded of some of the Irradiates he had known throughout his life- poor souls whose parents had lived in the contaminated sectors. Typically stillborn, or misproportioned at best- but Sybrus thought with nothing but respect towards those who survived their predicaments. They were fighters, noble dedicated beyond all expectations- much better specimens of ‘humanity’ than any of their suit-wearing, tower-dwelling ‘superiors’ could ever be.

But that was his world- Tok-Tok was clearly something different. His manner was pleasantly folksy, his clothing was downright medieval- as if Sybrus needed further evidence for his suspicions about Carnivale. However, that could wait. Although he had spoken briefly to the man several times before, he knew next to nothing important about him- his history, his abilities, his motivation for being at Carnivale-

There!

Sybrus caught a glimpse of Tok-Tok. He was standing atop the empty log flume, playing his strange... flute- or some such instrument. The melody was soft and sweet, but haunting all the while. The cyborg stood motionless for a moment, caught up in the sight and sound. There he was, the man he had to fight. Tok-Tok’s short legs kicked rhythmically off of the side of the ride, like a child in an overly tall chair. His gangly army stretched comically out to each side, before bending back to hold the colourful instrument before his face. The noontime sun glinted off the flute, while the wind tossed about thin, silklike wisps of the young man’s platinum hair.

The music stopped. Tok-Tok looked up towards Sybrus and waved, his legs still kicking restlessly. Sybrus nodded and gave a small wave back, before slowly pulling out his staff. With a flick, it extended to its full length. Sybrus jammed it into the track and twisted. With a jolt, the roller-coaster cart began to slide, with a screeching wail of rust and locked wheels, down the steep first drop. Around halfway down, a loud snapping noise rattled the cart as the stuck wheels freed themselves, and its fall accelerated dramatically. Sybrus’ face stretched into an adrenaline-pumped grin as he was pushed down into his seat at the bottom of the drop, and then the cart began its ascent. The flume was rapidly approaching. With a grunt, Sybrus wrestled himself out of the speeding, unsecured cart and leapt out of the side. As he flew through the air, he saw Tok-Tok’s face marked with distinct surprise- while he may have been expecting an attack as Sybrus sped by, he had apparently not considered that his opponent would go straight for a tackle. The misproportioned man dodged out of the way, pulling a large, red-gripped lever as he did so. Sybrus, flying past, caught a grip on the far side of the flume. With a thud, he flipped his body around, forcefully striking the wooden wall. In an odd moment of déjà vu, his attention suddenly narrowed onto the scratch marks left by his mechanical hand on the degrading wood the last time. Odd.

As Sybrus began to pull himself up, he was greeted by a strange rumbling sensation, and a rushing noise. Why hadn’t Tok-Tok attacked him while he was hanging? Lifting his head above the wall, Sybrus’ question received its dramatic answer.

“I think I’ve fixed the ride.” Grinned Tok-Tok, standing in the suddenly-flowing water, swirling past his ankles. His friendly sincerity had a disarming effect on Sybrus as powerful as any attack- he was unsure of how to respond.

“Was... it broken?” he asked, mouth hanging slightly open in an expression of incredulity.

Tok-Tok shrugged. “I don’t really know how it works...” he began, before rushing “But-sorry-for-this-it’s-fine!”

Sybrus whipped out his staff into a defensive posture, but the attack came from behind. A monstrous wave arose and roared over him- but it did not pass. Sybrus stood in submerged confusion for a few seconds, floating in a stationary blob of water. Sybrus, floating in the center, had a horrifying realization that he could neither breathe nor escape- he remained suspended and neutrally buoyant. Painfully, he opened his eyes, to see Tok-Tok standing outside, badly blurred by the rippling wall of water. Sybrus thrashed wildly as the globe of water expanded, fed by the ride. Outside, he saw Tok-Tok starting to tremble, or perhaps it was just his eyes beginning to fail his oxygen-deprived mind. Continuing his frenzied movement, Sybrus’ staff caught a solid object. Knowing nothing else to do, he pulled on it with all his might. With desperate strength, he fought against the inward current, then was suddenly released.

Sybrus felt a popping pressure in his ears as he escaped into the open air- and off the side of the flume. Plunging downwards, he hit the ground with his digitigrade metal leg, springing off into a run. He gasped and coughed, barely able to maintain his pace. Staggering, he felt his pocket- its contents were still intact. Spinning about for a look behind, he saw Tok-Tok, floating down on a column of water pouring down from the ride.

“It’s very pure water!” shouted Tok-Tok, as he touched ground, sinking into the central mass of water. A tendril of the liquid surged out towards Sybrus, who barely had the time to question the physical possibility of such an occurrence before it engulfed his head. The force of the impact knocked his breath away- a critical loss of a valuable resource. Sybrus screamed an unspoken mental curse, and shook wildly in an attempt to dislodge the substance. He fell to his knees and rubbed his head against the ground- anything to expose his mouth to the air. The water seemed to be forcing its way into his mouth, as he scraped his head against the ground, finding nothing but water, mud and snack food debris.

That was it! Sybrus’ hand felt an empty, cheap plastic cup, and pulled out the thick straw. Forcing the object into his mouth, he attempted to breathe. No intake of air could be fast enough, and he gagged and coughed as he inhaled some of the water caught in his throat. He managed to steal a few breaths through the dirty, makeshift snorkel, and staggered back to his feet before Tok-Tok recognized what he was doing and stretched the bubble of water over the snorkel, once again cutting of his opponent from the air. Sybrus sprinted towards the master of the water, barely seeing him through the murky, muddy cloud that his actions had stirred into the liquid. Tok-Tok’s form began to shake violently, as if expending great physical effort, as Sybrus raced ever closer. One, then two jets of water struck him, but he was not shaken off course. Diving headlong into the bubble, Sybrus made the first physical contact of the fight, striking Tok-Tok in the gut with his outstretched, diving fists. His opponent folded over in reaction, allowing Sybrus to slip behind him. Light was beginning to fade, and lungs had long since begun to burn. Sybrus’ arms stretched out, then curled around Tok-Tok’s head in a tight hold, firmly compressing the front of his neck. Tok-Tok struck back with a flurry of long-armed punches, but he was badly weakened. Sybrus knew his grip too well, even as his sight faded to black and feeling retreated from his extremities- he felt the pulsing of the carotids against his right arm struggle, then fade. Tok-Tok went limp, and the great bubble of water collapsed, rapidly spreading out over the large, open space.

Sybrus’ mechanical body twitched and spasmed violently, kicking like a pinned insect. With a hacking cough, his organic half attempted to rise from the muddy ground. He felt a sudden fear and disorientation- how much time had passed? Had he fully blacked out? Passed out? His mechanical portion assured him that only a handful of seconds had passed as he rose to his feet. Tok-Tok was beginning to recover his consciousness from Sybrus’ hold, moaning slightly. The cyborg once again felt his pocket, and pulled out the vial and capped syringe, retrieved from Nolan’s bag after the previous fight. With a concentrated expression, Sybrus drew out a tiny of the chemical, and injected it into Tok-Tok’s upper arm. The young man’s rolling movements stopped, and calm overtook him again. The sedative would wear off in about half an hour. His opponent incapacitated, Sybrus lifted Tok-Tok, and began to pull his unconscious body towards the observation tower. Ahead, a slightly hunched, bald man, clad in the same manner as Tok-Tok’s rough leather and dull off-white cloth, approached. A look of fear and concern emanated from his eyes, as he rushed forward, Tok-Tok’s washed-away straw hat cradled in his arms. The two met face to face, the old man solemnly placing the straw hat on the defeated man’s limp body. Sybrus suddenly recognized his actions.

“Oh! Don’t worry, he’s alive. He’ll be okay.”

The old man gave Sybrus an uncertain and suspicious look.

“Come. Let’s get him to the tower- they’ll have help for him there- if he needs it.”

The silent figure took a long, squinting look at the cyborg.

“Yer a mighty strange feller, son. Ye could o’ killed ‘im.”

“I don’t like to do that.”

The two remained silent for a moment, staring intently at each other.

“I’m Hickles.” He said, extending his hand.

“Brayne.” Responded Sybrus, duplicating the man’s gesture with his living, right hand. Strawman Hickles shook it vigorously. Releasing him, he put Tok-Tok’s loose arm over his shoulder, and lifted. Together, under the high afternoon sun, the two carried the fallen man off, over muddy turf and out of sight.

THIS IS NOT MY SUBMISSION.

Tok-Tok stood in one of the candy shops, digging his way through a small pile of old, mouldy bars. He was sweaty. Even though he was standing in the shadow of the structure's roof, the sun had bathed him in its rays. He took his arm and wiped some of the liquid away from his forehead before turning around, looking outside. A large, spread pile of junk presented his view between overgrown vegetation, and behind it a whole row of shops stood, overgrown with mulch where they had collapsed. But Tok-Tok had looked at that already, moved to the counter of the candy shop, then looked to the right; he could hear loud, clanging noises just in the stand next to his. Tok-Tok's eyes was wide as he quickly tried to search through the pile of garbage he stood in, but he couldn't find what he was searching for. He thought he found it when he saw some transparent plastic lying below a nastily looking brown clump of not-wanting-to-know-what-it-was; but it was only a wrapped popcicle. He threw it over his shoulder and kept digging, as a shadow was cast at the counter ahead of him. He froze, and slowly turned, looking up.

It was a big, fuzzy grizzly bear with blackglasses on two feet, holding a scribbled paper in his hand.
"You there," he said.
Tok-Tok looked at him with deep fear in his eyes. He wasn't prepared for this fight, at all. Back at his home, he had what he needed next to his house, but right now...
"You didn't sign up at the island docks," he growled. "I have the paper where your signature is supposed to be before you fight. Don't be in such hurry."
"What!?" Tok-Tok said with a squeaky voice, "My lord, can you be a bit more careful when telling people these things? Like yelling my name prematurely and approaching more obviously?"
"I would," the bear said, "But that'd take the fun out of it. Also, there were some pretty cool glasses in the shop next door, so I had to find some fashionable ones. These are pretty groovy, don't you think?"
"My, don't do that again," Tok-Tok said, writing his name on the formula, "And yes, they look handsome with the black nose of your. They match."
The bear smiled as Tok-Tok handed him back the paper, then began making his way through the scattered cans and overgrown grass. When Tok-Tok got back to his trash digging, the bear turned around.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"I need a bottle of water, and there was none in any of the other shops," Tok-Tok said, "Or one for starters at least."
"We aren't directly supposed to help our contenders," the bear growled with the same smile as before, "But the shop a few stands over there used to provide water for the wet ride. I think it might still have some water in the tank, plenty to drink off."
Tok-Tok's head instantly appeared from the mouldy pile of candy and looked at the bear with a very reliefed look on his face.
"Thank you!" Tok-Tok said, jumping over the counter to walk towards the building. The bear looked the other way though; at the corner of the broken attraction, just at the end of the road, a short human appeared, stumpily making his way through the garbage. His small figure was not even large enough to be clearly visible in the vegetation. He tried to force himself through the rough terrain, obviously determined to move forward, but his physical capacities were so puny that he looked exhausted by even trying to locate his enemy. Tok-Tok had his eyebrows raised.
"Good luck, he's tougher than he looks," the bear said and, as the dwarf was coming closer, was beamed away in a ray of light.

[...]

Battle One​

The small contender was getting near slowly, and Tok-Tok was thinking fast. Obviously, he was physically superior to the dwarf, but it was still very possible that an enemy of this physical appearance was a user of magic or something in that direction. Tok-Tok leveled his strawhat. His enemy was obviously slow, though. Turning around, he hoped to get to the water tank before the dwarf had gotten closer.

The warmth and terrain was excruciatingly tiring for the man, but he had to keep himself quick. The dwarf could have everything hidden in his sleeves; or in this case, in his feet. Tipping a bicycle, he saw the building he was running for; or hopefully it was that. Big red letters were painted on the facade: BROKEN TANK PLEASE FIX OR WE HAVE NO WATER FOR THE COASTER. Even though this hinted there was no water left, Tok-Tok was relieved as he got closer to the building; behind him, he could hear the muffling from the dwarf's movements getting closer. Walking straight up to the metallic door, he took his hand to the knob - but as he turned it, nothing happened. Holding it with both hands and pulling didn't help either, the steel remained shut. Getting a little desperate now, Tok-Tok stepped back and readied himself to knock the door in; but looking at the dirty metal, he regretted it and let his arms hang loosely at his sides. He needed that water. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of grass; looking back, he saw the tiny man having forced his way through the last grass seperating him from Tok-Tok, and falling over the rusty bicycle, the dwarf simply fainted out of fatigue.

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock