[center][h3]The God Hand[/h3]
[b]Location: the School[/b]
[@GreenGoat][/center]

After a short way, the dilapidated corridor turned right and opened up into a wide-open [url=http://halo.bungie.net/images/games/Reach/betaGuide/inlines/swordbase.jpg]zone[/url].  The walkway that lay beyond the aperture served as a sort of bridge across a large, rectangular atrium that overlooked the two floors below.  Across the way, back inside the building proper lay a square hall with the doors to various other classrooms and workshops lining its walls.  From the bridge itself was an excellent view down the whole atrium, and on the complete opposite end of the area on ground level was an arched entryway that led to a carpeted area.  Even from here, an onlooker could see the shelves and the books that filled them.

Yet the library was both so near and so far.  Anyone who could stomach the three-floor drop to the bottom could very well incur the malfeasance of the pack of anons strewn around a circle of couches at the floor's center.  The alternative, to cross the bridge and navigate another slew of corridors and classes in the hopes of finding stairs down, offered even more unknowns.  From here, however, the distant sounds of some kind of scuffle in the direction of the library could give Juniper a guess as to who occupied it.  

[center][h3]The Fungal Knight[/h3]
[b]Location: Amusement Mile[/b]
[@Banana][/center]

A hail of lead pounded the entryway of the House of Mirrors.  The door and walls sprouted holes in mere seconds, and just as fast the little wooden staircase splintered while its railings flew apart.  A good few of Big Big's rounds penetrated all the way through to the interior, shattering a handful of the fair attraction's eponymous looking glasses in a spray of glass and cacophony of sound.  Just as sudden as it came, the deadly stream of bullets stopped, and the barrel of the mobster's Tommy Gun smoked as its drum dropped to the ground.  With great deliberation, the huge man removed a new drum from inside his expensive brown jacket and attached it.  Despite the strength of both his conviction and trigger finger, the skeleton hadn't bitten it.  No problem.  There was all the time in the world to reduce him to bone meal inside the building into which he'd fled, imaging that he could take the pillar of a man down in a melee.

The nearby drone, which for a minute or two had been dumbly following the huge fellow around, came alive with a jerk.  Whether or not Bonesword could hear him, Oren activated the machine's mike and announced, “Looks like things are heating up at the Amusement Mile.  Big Big versus Bonesword, throwing down the the House of Mirrors.  Can't really cam from in there, but whatever.  Knock 'em dead again, champ!”  

If the drone had two purple optics rather than one, it might have given a wink, but for now it simply settled for observing the mobster march like a living monument toward the Fungal Knight's hiding place.  Oren knew who he rooted for—the man who was at one both amazing and sad, incredible power and potential locked away by a deficient mind.  In this situation, Big Big was the underdog, but Oren nevertheless wondered whether it would be the legbreaker or the swordfighter who would emerge from that reflective maze in triumph.

[center][h3]Gaben's Chosen[/h3]
[b]Location: Governance Hub[/b]
[@Hostile][/center]

“Looks like we're all here!”  

A voice rang out through the plaza in front of the city hall, its owner conspicuously absent.  Though she recognized it as the one who'd directed her here, Squishy bore a confused look when she couldn't find the strange metal contraption hovering around anywhere.  Without anything to distract her, however, the chaos slime focused on her opponent.  He looked human, but nothing about his equipment was familiar to him.  Even if she couldn't figure him out, though, she could feel the murderous intent streaming off him.  Her kind didn't necessarily need to breathe, but as a force of habit picked up from her friends back at Deadbeat Sky, she took a deep breath anyway.  Fighting was not her forte, but if it meant bringing back the great beings, she would do whatever it took.

Beside her, on the fountain's marble rim, was a wooden box.  Before Mountain Dew arrived, Squishy had been trying to open it, but hadn't made much in the way of progress aside from nearly crushing one end.  Through the cracks, though, a hint of vivid red could be seen.  Squishy glanced its way, but at the water past it instead of the box itself.  While not one for complex stratagems, she knew her physiology well enough to realize when a potential advantage lay within arm's reach.  After that, however, she returned her focus to the quickscoper, and the disembodied voice of the announcer echoed through the area once more.  

“Round one,” he called, a certain eagerness in his voice, “Fight!”