[center][h3]Filia – Mahora Grounds[/h3]
[@trevor1001][/center]

The fingers that protruded from the dumpster and the low moan of pain and disgust that accompanied them gave off the distinct feel, Filia thought, of a homeless street rat blissfully ignorant of the dogma of hygiene.  An image rolled around in her mind, one tempered by familiarity, of a lonesome outcast meandering without cause or knowledge through an inhospitable city, lodging in destitution and squalor.  A sympathetic frown covered her face as she held out her own hand above the dingy, odorous container, and assisted the unfortunate, trapped individual out.

One look at the man upon which she'd bestowed her charity convinced Filia thoroughly that the repulsive heaps of trash lining urban alleyways were far removed from anything that could be considered Ed's natural habitat.  How many hobos were there, bedecked in expensive-looking black jerkin and long, red robe?  Even his hair, thick and blond, implied some trace of aristocracy or at least officiousness.  Without so much as a word of gratitude Ed ignored her, seeking to cleanse his own garb in a conceited manner.  Rather than soil a happenstance encounter and invite unwanted resentment against herself, however, Filia said nothing.  Instead, she watched as the distant, nebulous spire lurched into action, increasing with a solemn and foreboding rhythm is revolutions, until the sky lit up with the image of a great being.  Both mouths fell open, unhinged by the grandeur and majesty of the image, and only after the Viewer's visage blinked out of existence did Filia feel able to breath again.

For a moment the demands of Ed failed to penetrate her own thought: [i]this being is more powerful than a Skullgirl.  We're in much more danger than we thought![/i]  Luckily for the alchemist, the back of the schoolgirl's head proved more attentive.  [b]”Don't know, some place called Mahora.  Now beat it!”[/b]  Though the gruff voice emanated from Filia, the girl's face bore a look of shock momentarily.  Only a few moments of contemplation passed before the amnesiac realized the wisdom behind Samson's surliness.  With the shadow of the Viewer hanging over them, she and her parasite were surrounded by a turbid sea of prospective opponents.  [b]”Come on, kid, let's get out of here.  Even normal people go crazy when a big problem comes up, an' the things we've seen today are anything but normal.”[/b]

Filia's gaze fixated on the ground, and her hair settled back into a normal position.  Though she was beholden to nobody, she still felt ashamed when it felt like she was doing someone wrong.  Without further ado, she turned tail and took off running, routing her confusion and anger into energy to power her down the street, away from Mahora, and into the City.  She continued running, her raven-black hair streaming behind her like a curtain of ink, until she spotted a train station.  Steel tracks, colossal engines, and expectant passengers all cooperated to bring a dry smile to Filia's face.  Leaving the street behind, she strode purposefully across the dirt and gravel until she found a flatbed train car, into which she pulled herself.  This was a favorite practice of hers and Samson's both, for aside from the provided view it was infinitely more interesting and safe than curling up on a lobby couch or in an alleyway.  Here, with her back to the steel and the wind in her hair, the melancholy of wandering could persist while her aching feet found rest.  Around the city she'd ride, staring out with ruby-hued eyes at all the city had to offer, until her vision grew clouded by the veil of a dreamless sleep.  

[center][h3]The Next Day – City Station, near Mahora[/h3][/center]

A colorful light roused Filia from her sleep.  While far more fitful than comfortable, her slumber had successfully restored her vitality, and the schoolgirl sat up to yawn happily.  A louder, more grunting yawn sounded from the back of her head, signaling the awakening of Samson.  Their first sensation was of motion, that of their flatbed train car and the whipping of air through their hair.  The second, a blend between sight and smell, befuddled them utterly, even after Filia had blinked several times and attempted to rub the grogginess from her eyes.

Overnight, the world had gone wacky.  Before her stretched an endless smorgasbord where there had once been a city.  Twizzlers had replaced antennas, breadsticks lightposts, drumsticks stopsigns, and -most intriguingly- an entire hill had become a stack of pancakes.  The sight of this caused both of Filia's mouths to water uncontrollably, and an appropriately-timed growl issued from her stomach.  An instant later, she found herself springing into the air and off a moving train, her hair transforming into octopus tentacles to grab anything and everything in reach in order to prevent a gruesome impact with the ground.  Once safely on solid land (and taken by a circuitous overnight route not far from where she'd started, Mahora) she made a beeline for the hill of pancakes.  Kneeling at the hill's edge, she seized a handful and tasted it cautiously, somehow not anticipating that Samson would send a whole fusillade of hair spoons and forks to grab pieces of pancake and stuff them into his mouth.  In an instant, Filia went from famished to stuffed, and dropped her handful of pancake with a sigh.  “It's no fun when you scarf it down all at once.  I don't even get to taste it!”  Experimentally, she poked her stomach.  “At least you didn't overdo it this time.”

[center][b][h3][color=yellow]DIO – Roanpur[/color][/h3][/b]
[@invisible man][@Dead Cruiser][/center]

DIO watched the two beings with the expectant air of an emperor awaiting a petitioner's request.  From the woman, he experienced a telling absence of presence, power, or indeed, much character at all.  Not every person with talent also played host to the ambition to use it, he condescendingly rationalized.  With an orange stare established now on the Overlord alone, DIO observed, the silent mass of his newly-raised ally rising and falling behind him with every cheated breath.  At last, the vampire's patience was rewarded by the armored behemoth's assent.  DIO permitted the steely hulk a toothy smile, more for his own sake than the Overlord's, given what little he knew about his new partner's psychology.  [color=yellow]”Splendid!  Though for now your tie with me may be naught but respect for my power, I look forward to the day when we will reign together, a duumvirate of support and devotion mighty enough to tear down this pretentious Viewer and expunge the life from his veins.  I have already set up a temporary but fortified base and acquired a slew of loyal minions.  Walk alongside me, if you will.”[/color]

Hands now in his pockets, DIO strode imperiously out of the alleyway, with his new zombie on his heels.  Silhouetted in the lambent streetlight, he twisted his body around to face the Overlord without moving his heels.  [color=yellow]”Oh!  And where are my manners?  My name...is DIO.”[/color]

[center][b][h3][color=yellow]The Next Day – Hotel California[/color][/h3][/b][/center]

Deep in his reading was DIO, several hours down the line, when a chromatic miasma settled over the City and an endless feast sprang from the ground.  Disturbed by the energies flowing around him, the vampire slammed his book shut, and dropped it onto a waiting side table before standing up.  A few long strides brought him to the window, which like all of Hotel California's windows had been screened overnight to prevent ultraviolet rays from getting in.  A colorful horizon marked the coming of that loathsome sun, the vile orange beacon that prevented DIO from taking action for roughly half of every day.  In the hours preceding the sun's imminent arrival, Hotel California had been further fortified by his zombies, including the elimination of alternate routes.  All stairwells had been blocked off, and other channels of passage suitable only for the unique methods of  vertical navigation of vampires and crawling undead.  For the less mobile, such as the Overlord, the elevator had been kept operational.  Furthermore, the windows on the lower levels had also been barred on the outside, though the encroaching solar rays meant labor on that task had stalled.  These thoughts were relegated to DIO's memory as he looked down and beheld the outside world.

And it seemed that the Viewer enjoyed his world utterly asinine.  Cracker sidewalks?  Soda fire extinguishers?  Giant kit-kat benches?  Nothing seemed more stupid to the vampire than a world made of food.  Still, it would be fun, he imagined, to tour the proximity of the Hotel to search for weak points in its defense and to survey the idiots enjoying their feast.  Thirty minutes, at most, lay between now and sunlight direct enough to be harmful to him.  Smirking, DIO walked out of the penthouse and down the hall to the collapsed stairwell, where he dropped six stories and sauntered afterward through the zombie-populated lobby without so much as a scratch.  If the Overlord asked where he was, a zombie would tell him.