[center][h3]Esaka, the Tiered City[/h3]
[b]Setting:[/b] Clear Thursday Evening
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (233/150) Level 11 Big Band (138/110)
Amaterasu’s [@DracoLunaris] Roland’s [@Archmage MC] Pit’s [@Yankee] Sakura & Juri’s [@Zoey Boey] Captain Falcon’s [@Double] Harry and Kim’s [@Eviledd1984] Yayama’s [@Chevaleresse] Grima’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1172 / 1069[/center]

On the surface, finding Terry sounded like a fairly simple task, but there were a few factors at play that complicated things for Nadia and her two newest friends. For one, the feral didn’t really want to find [i]any[/i] Seeker right now, except maybe Primrose, and Terry was at the top of her avoid list. It wasn’t because she couldn’t handle confrontation, or that the Hungry Wolf had been wrong to call her when he’d learned of her less-than-legal activities; in fact, it was probably because he’d been right. She’d made a serious mistake, maybe gotten people killed, and there was no surer reminder of her screw-up than seeing the face of her foremost accuser.

In a way, meeting his estranged grandkids was a stroke of bad luck, although Nadia wasn’t about to resent them. She didn’t even really resent Terry, even if the big doofus did make himself an easy target. She just resented her own impetuous idiocy, and her stubborn commitment to the bit that defined herself as a happy-go-lucky thief, even if Nadia wasn’t introspective enough to realize that. That she’d learned nothing from the mistake that cost the Fishbone Gang their lives. It was that very toxic thought that lingered just in her periphery, ever-so-slightly visible in the blind spot of her mind, that brought her the closest to despair this morning. If Nadia Fortune was going to continue functioning, as usual, a smile on her face as she reached out to seize victory within her grasp, she needed to fix her gaze straight ahead, and spare no second glance into those dreadful blind spots.

Despite Nadia’s efforts to distract Bart and Marg with a colorful tour of Esaka’s Low Tier, it didn’t take long at all for the charismatic twins, who applied their shtick to every knowledgeable-looking passer-by with the aggression of door-to-door salesmen, to dig up some information on their forebear. For better or worse, Terry Bogard was a name just about everyone knew. The controversial celebrity was to some a washed-up has-been, to others an industry plant thrust into undeserved relevance by outside interference, and to still others a beloved classic. Terry could be a hundred things to a hundred people, and opinion was even divided on which dojo he belonged to. Some claimed his allegiance lay with King of Fighters, Fighting EX Layer, or one of several lesser-known wolf-related dojos, but for the most part it sounded like the man could be found where his story began: Fatal Fury.

Getting there involved a trip up from the Low Tier through the Pools (now vacant except for fighters training, loitering yokai, and a few sightseers) and into the Middle Tier, and there the hunt began for the Fatal Fury dojo. Now that they had a destination in mind, the twins moved quickly, so Nadia played along. With her natural agility she had no trouble keeping up with the two and just as her trip toward Esaka along with Junior and Rika did yesterday morning, the trip quickly turned into a race through the city streets. [i]Kids will be kids[/i], Nadia figured. Maybe it wasn’t exactly normal for a grown woman like her to be spending time with children so often, but it helped her sustain her own youthful energy and paw-sitive outlook. Unlike last time, though, she pulled back as the three got closer to where their destination ought to be, allowing the twins to decide victory among themselves while she hung back to avoid being discovered. Her ‘disguise’, if she could even call it that, was far from foolproof, after all, and if Terry was nearby, his teammates for the King of Fighters tournament might be here too.

Now in a more run-down part of the Middle Tier, Bart and Marg cut through a couple buildings and reached the [url=https://cdn.wikimg.net/en/armswiki/images/thumb/e/ef/Scrapyard.jpg/640px-Scrapyard.jpg]scrapyard[/url] that neighbored the Fatal Fury at exactly the same time, neck-and-neck as they dashed through the final stretch toward the dojo. Around them, large pieces of old junk and rejected materials lay piled around rusted steel beams, with heavy machinery like excavators rising from the heaps of raw metal and wood with clawed arms like the necks of serpentine leviathans. Thanks to the motorcar massacre perpetuated yesterday by team Seekers of Fight, there were plenty of new auto wrecks in the scrapyard as well, and a couple of fighters interested in them.

In fact, the well-dressed twins were so focused on their race that they didn’t notice one man in front of them until they vaulted over the husk of a SWAT van and bounced off the absurdly massive trapezius muscles of a [url=https://i.imgur.com/iYvvVFT.png]hulking eight-foot giant[/url] with a maple leaf flat-top and biceps so gargantuan that tires fit snugly around them. Bart and Marg hit the ground in front of this behemoth, skidded to a stop in the dust, and half-turned around, alarmed by his appearance. For a brief moment, Abigail just stared at them, his mouth agape. Then he let out the last noise that either of them expected.

“VuvuvuvuvuvuvuVROOOOOOOOM!”

He stumbled forward, pantomiming a steering wheel between his hands, veering left and right before finalizing a straight path toward the twins who stood frozen in bafflement. He stomped on an imaginary brake pedal right in front of them, went, “BRRRRRRRRRT!” and reached out to snatch them with mitts bigger than either of their heads. “Abi-GAIL!” The twins dodged backward just in time. As they slid to a stop their faces turned from terror into determination as each clasped a hand around his or her golden watch.

Behind Abigail, Nadia leaped up onto the roof of the SWAT van, her keen senses already attuned to danger. “What’s all this shout- HOLY SHIT THAT GUY’S HUGE!”

She stood with eyes wide as saucers, shaking her head to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but after several blinks the brute was still there, back and bigger than ever. Nadia raised her hand and sharpened her claws. “Purr-haps you guys need a little hand?”

Bart and Marg grinned at her. “This is the city of fighters, isn’t it?” the former asked.

“As newbies, it’s up to us to prove ourselves!” the latter declared. She turned her watch’s dial, then spread her arms, expanding a bubble of amber energy that formed a dodecahedron shield around her and Bart. The next second, her brother followed suit with his own Fortified Wager, doubling their shields. Behind them shimmered the image of casino tokens piled high, although to Nadia they looked like giant golden coins. “And as always, we think big!”

With an ugly smile Abigail flexed his enormous arms, straining his tire accessories almost to the point of bursting. Eyebrows raised at the twins’ confidence, Nadia crossed her arms and stood by to watch. Most Lost Numbers shrank from battle, fighting only when absolutely necessary, yet these kids were ready to risk their lives for nothing. Just what were they trying to prove? The feral couldn’t help but be curious. “If ya say so, go ahead…car-umple him!”

[hr]

It took a little help from Ileum, but Band eventually made his way up to the Middle Tier from the Pools, where he parked his heavy chassis on a sturdy stone bench near the precipice. He’d managed to deliver a spectacular and decisive beatdown to that braggart Balrog, then put on a brave face for the crowd, but after that last duel the detective was well and truly done for the day. There was no gas left in his tanks, and even if Balrog hadn’t been that close to victory in either round, those last few dirty blows he’d hammered Band with had done a real number on him. The blood loss from his nose alone was enough to leave him light-headed, which was easier than one might suspect since what remained of his real body didn’t have all that much blood. Most of him ran on B♭, an experimental oil mixture. His iron lung still had plenty of that, for all the good it did him; if nothing else, Balrog had figured out just where to hurt him.

Band spent a while sitting there, just resting as he took in the marvelous vista before him. Now that evening was in full swing, the setting sun glittered off the water of the Pools, and the Low Tier below it bustled with activity. A thousand woks sizzled with seed oils as sweatband-clad cooks stir-fried vegetables, meat, and rice, and noodlemasters prepared miso, soy, and pork bone broth for savory ramen noodles. As they awaited their orders or paused between sips of sake and beer, restaurant customers excitedly discussed the day’s standings. By now, all the competitors’ results from their Pools matches today had been thoroughly tabulated. Most of Esaka’s fighters had already drowned in pools, most figuratively, though the Mortal Kombat qualifiers had indeed claimed a number of lives already. Just another day in Esaka.

He almost didn’t notice when Ileum returned, her footfalls naturally soft. In one hand she carried a medical kit, and by the time Band turned to face her, she’d already popped it open. “Thanks, Ileum,” he told her with a smile of resignation. Before she left he’d insisted that Stanley or Coyle could pound out the dents Balrog left in him back at base, but Ileum insisted on tending to his human parts. He tried not to flinch as she dabbed at his bruised, lacerated, and bloody face with some medicine-soaked pads. Even after all this time, that kind of solution still stung.

It was easy to imagine that only a kind personality and sense of motherly duty motivated Ileum, but it tempted Band to read more into her actions, especially after that good-luck kiss. On one hand, he couldn’t deny that it made for a good narrative. The two most veteran agents of ASG Lab 8, the de facto ‘mom and dad’ of all the little ones, unlucky in love all their lives, rejected by society and modified beyond recognition but united in common cause, together again at last. On the other hand, how could anything come of this? A sentient pile of guts in a see-through, woman-shaped sleeve and a cyborg quadriplegic in a mobile iron lung, torn between loyalties to found family and greater good, to say nothing of Galeem and the Life Service.

Band stared at Ileum’s mask as she tended him, unable to see her gaze or expression. Maybe she also realized just how futile this was. But both of them were mature enough to see past the melodrama and realize that all bonds eventually got ground to dust beneath the wheel of time, and that in spite of the futility, even the smallest, most impermanent fragment of warmth was worth holding on to. This soothing sunset was a stolen moment, seized by two unusual people from the relentless river of life, and it was theirs to keep in the vault called memory..

If Big Band was more creative, he figured that this would be something worth writing a song about. Then again, plaintive moments like these were probably popular subject matter in the Blues genre, so his saxophone would have no shortage of songs.

He had no idea how long it was before Ileum finally leaned back and asked, “How are you feeling?”

Band swallowed and put on a smile. “Better.”

With a satisfied nod, Ileum adopted a more relaxed sitting position on the bench beside him. “Good. What’s next?”

“Sorry, but I’ve got to get in touch with my team,” the detective told her with a sigh. “It’s been a busy day, and after what happened last night, keepin’ up with everyone’s more important than ever.”

Although Ileum seemed to have a subtle air of disappointment around her, she gave an understanding nod. “Alright. I’d better get back to Lab 8 and the littles. It isn’t easy with this body, but I’ve been getting better and better at cooking. Tonight is a macaroni casserole. The kids love it.”

“Mm-mm. Kids got me jealous,” Band joked.

Ileum tilted her head. “Where are you staying?”

[i]Good question,[/i] the detective thought. The ruins he’d inhabited last night hadn’t exactly been comfortable, or safe for that matter. Fortunately, a better option had already presented itself. “Lab 8, if I can. Don’t got a whole lotta options.”

“I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say you’re more than welcome,” Ileum told him.

“Right on.” Band couldn’t imagine any of his old compatriots objecting, although the thought of sleeping somewhere Coyle had access to did not spark joy. With a groan, the detective got to his feet, and Ileum rose alongside him. “See ya soon then, Il. Save me a li’l casserole, will ya?”

The medic waved at him as she sauntered away. “I’ll try.”

Band turned and gazed out across the Forbidden Kingdom for a few moments, heaved a sigh, then activated his linkpearl. “Hey, y’all. It’s gettin’ to be time for another all-hands check-in. Sound good, Pit?” He had no reason to think that Gold Team’s captain would disagree. “Anywhere sound like a good place to meet up? Keepin’ it low-key in the Low Tier seems smart, but I’d advise against frequentin’ Pao Pao too often.” He kept the line open as he stared off into the distance, ready to note down who picked up his collect call.

[center][h3]Esaka - Infinite-Tea[/h3]
Roland’s [@Archmage MC] Captain Falcon’s [@Double] Kim’s [@Eviledd1984] Grima’s [@Goggy][/center]

Just after Dragunov made his implicit threat, the interior of the Infinite-tea beverage shop began to fill up with non-customers following in Grima’s footsteps. A third person showed up at Chloe’s table as another newcomer lurked nearby, only increasing the undercover pop star’s anxiety as she learned that whoever these people were, they did not act with discretion. Then again, could she really assume that they were all on the same side? Kim’s manner was completely different compared to Grima’s, by-the-book and reassuring rather than sly and unnerving, and the two gave no sign of familiarity. This could be a good cop, bad cop routine, or maybe Chloe just had the worst luck out of anyone in Esaka. With Dragunov staring her down, it was hard to think otherwise.

The cold-hearted Russian’s behavior certainly got Grima’s blood boiling, though. He did not flinch, scarcely even blinking, when the vessel offered him scathing derision, as if he were made of stone rather than flesh and blood. Grima rose with her malicious intent for the icy man clear as day, drawing worried looks from all directions. Dragunov said nothing, but after a tense moment turned and strode toward the door. Once outside, he stood with his back facing Grima, as if daring her to try and deal him an underhanded strike from behind. Even if no words passed his lips, his subtle ready stance said [i]give me your worst.[/i]

Inside, Chloe appeared relieved to have both Grima and Dragunov away from her, though that didn’t mean she trusted Kim. More than anything, she was worried that her cover had been blown by the scene the others nearly caused, and she seemed eager to slip out of the store and beat a hasty retreat toward the comfort of her security team. “That guy’s seriously scary,” she confided to Kim, unable to restrain her nervous energy. “I’ve never heard him say a word. All I know is he works for G-Corp.” She fidgeted in her seat, ready to hurry out the moment the coast looked clear.

[center][h3]The Midnight Walk - Cave of the Forlorn[/h3]
[b]Setting:[/b] Murky Friday Morning
Lvl 10 Sandalphon (4/100) Level 7 Heismay (36/70)
Edward’s [@DracoLunaris] Blazermate & Sectonia’s [@Archmage MC] Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee] Roxas & Ganondorf’s [@Double] Ramattra and Tenna’s [@XoXKieroBombXoX] Mokou’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1073

[b][url=https://i.imgur.com/p76VSWM.png]Nameless Stagecoach[/url][/b]
𖥞: 8/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | [color=blue]◆◆[/color]◆◆ | [b]Equipment:[/b] Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/Icebox | [b]Companion[/b]: Ratshaker Rat[/center]

While most members of the expedition put in a good effort to make the cave more habitable, including campfires, tents, sleeping bags, automatic defenses, and so forth, it was still an ice-cold cave at the end of the day. Unsurprisingly, few slept very well. Heismay in particular fared poorly since he could not effectively deaden the noise that the echo-prone cave walls amplified, although an ample serving of the wine recovered by Edward with Ramattra’s key helped suppress the stress he’d accrued from his last fight. He was pretty used to sleeping poorly at this point in his life, but it still wasn’t very pleasant. At the very least, neither he nor the others went to bed hungry. The grand feast back at the Christmas Village had satisfied most everyone, and if someone did still end up needing a midnight snack, rations, foraged produce, and leftover foodstuffs were plentiful enough in the stagecoach’s ice box that hunger was the least of the Seekers’ concerns.

Of course, being inside the cave still turned out to be vastly preferable to being outside. Without any sunlight to bring up the ambient temperature for many days now, the temperature continued to fall outside, made all the worse by biting, howling winds. Fortunately the outside world didn’t have much more in store for the cave inhabitants than that. Though Blazermate’s sentry turret did beep a couple times during the wintry night when it detected some creature or another moving out in the gulch, it never opened fire at any enemies attempting to assault the Seekers in their sleep. That meant that everyone could do their best to tune out the frigid gale outside, as well as the subtle vibrations and shifting sounds from the ground beneath them, and try their best to sleep through the night.

Until about five in the morning, that is. At a certain point, the subtle sounds and shifts in the cave floor ramped up to a point where they could no longer be ignored. The ground was shaking; the rock was rumbling. Those disturbed to wakefulness but the tremor, like Heismay, quickly moved to alert the others, but the situation deteriorated with shocking speed. Cracks opened in the earth, spreading and forking like lightning, and in a cacophony of yells and shattering earth the cave began to collapse.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/gEaVuAv.png[/img][/center]

Those unable to fly and catch themselves plummeted down through a huge cavern with walls of icy blue rock in a deluge of rock and stone. They hurtled past amazing naturally-formed bridges, stalactites the size of trees, and luminescent formations of red crystal sugar to land in soft, downy drifts of incredibly deep snow. Heismay managed to spread his wings and glide out of the rubble shower about halfway down, which gave him ample time to gape in horrified wonderment at the sheer size of the frozen hollow into which everyone had tumbled. When he saw other Seekers go splat into the snow, he feared the worst, but the sight of their heads poking up through the powder a few seconds later meant he could breathe a sigh of relief. Heismay steered himself down toward where most of the heroes had fallen and landed gently atop a rock, next to a spiky bulb that might have been some alien plant. “Is everyone alive?”

Miraculously, everyone seemed to be more or less unharmed, thanks to the thick blanket of snow. Just how many eons had it accumulated there, perfectly undisturbed, only to save a handful of lives now? It was too late for Heismay to thank his lucky stars, though. Once his heart stopped pounding so much, his keen ears could hear the hair-raising skitter of countless legs. When he turned his eyes toward the walls and vaulted ceiling of the immense cavern, the sight of hundreds of monstrous shapes marching down toward the fallen Seekers in droves left him aghast. Most he couldn’t make out clearly, but he could see a number of larger, lighter-colored [url=https://i.imgur.com/EmGyCAm.png]bugs[/url] within the swarm, their bulbous abdomens aglow with cryogenic chemicals. Whatever they were, [url=https://i.imgur.com/5F7fLdn.png]they[/url] were coming, and it would be long before even more [url=https://i.imgur.com/k2Ui4u1.png]dangerous specimens[/url] reared their ugly heads to fire volleys of corrosive slime from afar.

“Make ready for battle!” Heismay yelled as he shook off the last vestiges of sleep, his voice echoing through the cave. He looked around wildly at the others, trying to get a sense of who was ready to fight and their combat positions. In so doing, he spotted the wreckage of what had to be Sandalphon’s tent, with her sleeping bag visible, half-buried in the snow and only identifiable thanks to the halo floating overhead. With no signs of her struggling inside the bag, he wondered if the archangel had been knocked out by the fall.

Right now, the Seekers were in disarray, but there were a couple spots around the cavern where heat seemed to well up from [url=https://i.imgur.com/94mgmeh.png]underground vents[/url], surrounded by lush burgundy vegetation. On the other hand, there were a few vents belting out ice-cold air as well, which would make fighting in their vicinity a lot harder. Blade in hand, Heismay turned to face the incoming tide of glyphids, hoping that their numbers meant they were individually weak. “We fight for our lives! Raaaaaaah!” the eugief roared.

A few seconds later, the horde was upon them. Heismay leaped forward, springboarding off the first glyphid in order to descend on one behind it with an inverted sword plunge through its middle. He yanked it out messily, killing the thing, then swept around to chop off another grunt’s leg and head with a one-two slash. Another tried to slash him with its leg from behind, only for its limb to glance off his sword, held behind him in a back-facing block. A quick spin kick to the maw knocked the glyphid aside, allowing Heismay to finish it with a neat decapitation. Finally, as more bugs closed in, he vaulted backward and executed a downward crescent slash mid-spin to slice apart the glyphid he’d bounced off in the first place. As he landed, a Frost Praetorian shouldered its kindred aside to lumber toward him. Heismay took a deep breath and readied himself for more.