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BANG! One casing hit the ground. One soldier did the same.

“Vere iz zat coming from?!” cried another German soldier, holding himself back behind a small barricade.

BANG! Another bullet flew and struck the soldier in the chest, neatly threading the needle between the segments of the barricade.

“It iz unthinkable zat ve vere invaded by ze enemy!” cried another soldier diving for cover. “Ze front line iz so far away!”

The commanding officer, a man of white hair with a monocle wearing a black trench coat with the red armband of the Nazi party, answered as he pulled out binoculars. “Because ve haven’t. Zere iz nobody approaching and ze time between ze shots indicates a singular attacker.”

After scanning for a moment, and another of his soldiers getting shot dead, he put his binoculars away. “Zhey are hidden vell, but zheir general location iz known to me. MEN! AIM ZE ARTILLERY SHELLS!”

Two soldiers rushed behind cover carrying a large shell. They reached the artillery cannon and were about to put it in when their attacker got off another shot. BANG! The bullet struck true, somehow managing to impact the primer of the artillery shell, igniting the powder and setting it off… To disastrous results.

The officer’s monocle fell to the ground as he could only stare at the carnage in utter disbelief. “... By God…” He rushed back into the outpost, adrenaline coursing through his body, switching the “fight or flight” lever firmly in the “flight” position. Once he rounded the corner he pulled out his sidearm and attempted to calm himself. Now he was out of the line of fire, around the corner and protected by 6 inches of solid steel. No bullet from some lone sniper could penetrate that. All he had to do was stand at the ready for his would-be assassin to step around the corner and he’d have them dead to rights.


“AGH!” A bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit him in his gut. It lost a bunch of power and didn’t hit anything vital, but it was still a bullet injury. He was bleeding badly. Now crawling on the ground, he desperately cried for help. “Herr Doctor! Emergency!” But nobody came. More gunshots could be heard and the cries of men dying were the only company he had as he crawled across the ground in a desperate bid to escape.

“It has to be her…” he wheezed to himself. “It has to be… Schnitter der Seelen! Zhat iz ze only explanation!”

“Iz zhat vhat zhey are calling me?” echoed a woman’s voice, strong, cultured, and attractive (in the right circumstances). “Ze reaper of souls?” she asked, translating the moniker into English.

The officer turned his head, his vision blurring but still able to make out the woman standing before him. It was her, no doubt about it. Reinhilde Amstein, the Austrian noblewoman suspected of murdering her parents in cold blood, the treasonous wench.

The officer coughed up a small bit of blood, sitting up into a more comfortable position to accept his fate. There was no way he could run from this. “I have no regrets,” he said, evenly as he could.

“And zhat iz vhy you die tonight,” she answered.

He met her eyes with his own, his determination clearing his vision a bit. “I have only one question before you send me to my maker.” He paused, as did she, curiosity driving her to temporary inaction. “How did zou make zhose shots? How could zou know how to hit me around ze corner, or zhat I vas even zhere? Zhat should ‘ave been impossible.”

She stepped forward, tilting her head down at the man. Would she answer him? Would he even believe her? “Shoot to Thrill. It iz my ability,” she answered simply, stepping her heel into his groin and grinding down on it. She ignored his cries of pain and pulled out her bowie knife. “It iz also vhat vill allow me to make zhis last. Now zhen… Let’s see if I can remove zhis skin vone layer at a time…”

The officer’s cries lasted hours, but eventually died down as he screamed himself hoarse. He would not die until several hours after that.
Ratchet and Jak & Daxter

Level 6 - (2/60) (+2), Level 3 - (25/30) (+2)
Location: Dead Zone - Redgraccoon Police Department
Word Count:1046
New Ratchet power - Unf0rseen - Your holographic decoy explodes when you become visible again, dealing Shock Damage to nearby enemies.

”Hey, this is easy!” Daxter exclaimed as the stone crumbled before his mighty stomp-jumps. ”Gah! MORE ZOMBIES!” He shrieked, failing to recognize that the swarm was helping destroy the stones, that they were the ones sent by Blazermate. Frantically he ran away, feeling great relief at having successfully dodged all of their nonexistent attempts to grab him.

Meanwhile Ratchet kept providing cover fire for the rest of the group, hopping in and out of swarms of foes and blasting them before hopping away again. His demon gun served him well as he could keep refilling its ammunition on the fly with the zombies and monsters it killed, grabbing up stray spirits and throwing them in for another soul-charged grapeshot energy blast.

But even with all their firepower and raw ability the heroes couldn’t hold off such a swarm forever. The survivors inside the police station called for them to get inside and Daxter had zero qualms with having an opportunity to save his skin. Ratchet looked around a bit sheepishly and thought, yeah, that’s probably a good idea. To give himself a better chance at getting through the throng of creatures unharmed, Ratchet activated his cloaking from Zer0, leaving behind the holographic dec0y to draw the swarm in another direction.Once Ratchet made it through the door he dropped the cloak, which caused the dec0y to suddenly spontaneously explode in a large burst of electricity!

”Woah! That’s new! Really cool too!.”

Up above at the top of the police station, another battle was raging against the Laguna angels. Donnie was able to hold his own no problem and with relative ease, so Jak paid the monk no mind as he continued waiting for the angels to get close, then blasting them with big cones of high-powered red eco. He watched with relative disgust as the cat lady dismembered herself to annihilate an angel in the most grotesque way possible. His eyes scrunched up and he bit his lip, looking over to his shoulder on reflex as if to say something to his best friend, only to realize his best friend wasn’t there. Oh. Right.

A new arrival signalled a change to the battle dynamic as a little cloaked figure began charging some kind of magic, and more angels looking like bizarre marble centaurs with chest-faces came in. Jak rolled into a long jump, landing on one of these angels like he was mounting a horse, then put the barrel of his morph gun directly to its back and blasted! The angel didn’t go down, showing how durable and hardy these enemies were, but it did blast off a nice amount of that chunky white marble stuff revealing something more fleshy beneath. It tried to buck Jak off, so he let it. Thrown into the air Jak used the momentum to go into a spin attack, whacking the angel repeatedly with his legs, fist, and outstretched gun. As soon as he landed he pumped another blast of red eco into the dazed creature, this time putting it down for good.

Another new arrival, this one some sort of long haired rocker type, urged everyone to head back inside. Donnie went, as did the ladies they had shown up to protect, so Jak decided to go down too. There was no point standing his ground alone after all. As they went Jak snagged the spirit of a fallen angel.

Inside everyone met back up again, along with a large number of survivors. ”Jak! I missed ya, buddy!” Daxter called out.

”Me too, Dax.” The two fist bumped. ”I didn’t like being separated. So listen, I was thinking we should get this thing reversed so we can stick together again.”

”Eh, I don’t know, Jak. I did pretty good out there like this. Really kicked some tail, if you know what I mean.”

Jak was taken aback. ”You mean you’re… Good like this? Wow.”

Daxter shrugged. ”I mean, I wouldn’t want this to be permanent. Seriously, I feel like a bird could perch on me anytime. I don’t want to have to keep an eye out for termites and woodpeckers for the rest of my life! Buuuut it really helped me, you know, keep Blazer-cheeks alive out there.”

Ratchet shook his head at this exchange, but before he could join in, the apparent leader of the police station survivors started filling them in on what the current situation was. Things seemed grim, but then V made them sound even worse by throwing in that the place was apparently being haunted.

”Haunted? Like, from a ghost?” Ratchet was almost in total disbelief. ”Sorry, but there’s no such things where I come from. Just, you know, aliens and robots and things.”

”Yeah, Dax and I have tangled with aliens too, as well as monsters and creatures that like to eat our gods, but ghosts are beyond my understanding too.” To emphasize Jak’s point, Daxter mocked a knife slit across his neck.

”I can definitely help with setting up more defenses though. I’m a great mechanic,” Ratchet offered. ”And I can really kick butt on the front lines.”

”Man, the mood in here is so sour and unpleasant,” Daxter threw in. ”It’s cramped, it’s dingy, you’re running low on supplies, and there’s the constant threat of horrible, terrifying death knocking down your walls. Remind you of anywhere, Jak?”

”Heh. Yeah. Haven City. Listen, my city was under constant siege from the metal heads. Demonic creatures that swarmed the stars and killed off the Precursors. It was overcrowded, constantly running low on eco, and morale was lower than dirt. But we survived, and we’ll survive here too!” With that, Jak pulled out the angel spirit he had grabbed back on the roof. Daxter looked nervous, but he needn’t have worried. ”Let’s see if this works…” Jak crushed the spirit and slapped it against his morph gun, banking on the weapon’s transforming properties to take it into itself.
Courier 6

Level 6 - (13/60) EXP (+3)
Location: Ancestral Farmstead
Word Count:1328
Courier Stress: 15

”Course I c’n use them,” the Courier answered Kamek in regards to the green herb and other items the koopa had brought back from the Dead Zone. He took them up, adding in, ”Long as they come from the land or a livin’ critter, I c’n make use of ’em. Sometimes I c’n combine ‘em together t’get the effects from both in a single dose, but amplified. Sometimes I c’n make somethin’ entirely different. Just gotta take a moment to look’em over an’ see what I’m workin’ with… But it looks like I won’t have that chance now.”

Everyone was heading out, urged by Bowser himself. The Courier shrugged. He would have frankly preferred they head out in the morning after some rest. It would have given him a chance to make some new chems, and even build that robot he was planning on. But if everyone was in a hurry to get battered and bruised without the proper preparation, well, what could he do about it? Even if they lost more of their number to this enemy, he wouldn’t die. He was a survivor, he’d make sure of it. The Courier holstered up, packed away his new items, and looked up… That stupid wiggler hat with a twitch of embarrassment in his eyes, then put it on (stashing his rawhide cowboy hat away in his bag).

”Looks like I c’n be running support in this upcomin’ battle,” he announced to nobody in particular but loud enough for everyone to hear. ”Since this hat’ll let me share my chems with you all without actually usin’ ‘em up on ya. Heh. Like a neat little package I’ll be deliverin’ ta y’all.” And with that everyone was loading up, either in their own karts or in the big monster truck. The Courier of course preferred his own transportation. He whistled and his trusted chocobo mount came.

”Good boy, Drumstick. Er, or is it girl?” He took a moment to look under the giant bird’s legs. ”Girl. Good girl. Looks like we’re off.”

The journey was invigorating for the Courier. Feeling the rush of air as Drumstick charged across the landscape, blowing through his hair. He gazed upon the new places he hadn’t yet explored, marveling at it all. So much back home was dead, or mutated, or both. The Land of Adventure was a breathtaking land indeed. He couldn’t wait to map out the whole area on his pip-boy. But it wouldn’t last and he started to pick out on something that wasn’t… Just wasn’t right. The land soon became desaturated, and strange crystals that he just knew didn’t belong started popping up. If there was anything the Courier recognized it was tainted land. But tainted by what?

Eventually everyone had to abandon their vehicles in order to proceed quietly, which left the Courier in a bit of an advantage since his bird could move around without making the noise of an engine. Together they kept up stride with the others, the Courier pulling out his Ratslayer rifle… Just in case. Then they saw it, their target. A monstrous beast, bigger even than the one he and the Ace Cadet had to abandon earlier! Bulkier, stronger looking, more fiersome! It seemed they had the drop on it until…


The Courier’s eyes locked onto the Thing From the Stars and he froze. His chocobo froze. Something invaded his body like a virulent poison, paralyzing him in place: otherworldly fear. No, terror. Others acted far more quickly than he did, somehow shaking off the fear while he sat on Drumstick unable to engage the monsters before them. Even as he was left alone at the bottom of the hill it was as though nothing else existed but that horrifying abomination. The Courier heard his companions as though from across a great chasm, their voices barely echoing in the back of his mind. Finally his attention was demanded, breaking him out of the stupor.

One of the farmhands, tainted and corrupted by otherworldly powers, had crept up on the Courier and swung a shovel at him. The impact thrust his mind back into the present, back into focus, and thankfully did not hurt much as it failed to break through both his duster’s armor and his sub-dermal armor (even if it would leave a bruise). ”Piss off!” he said dismissively, spurring Drumstick into a full gallop and leaving the crazed farmhand behind.

Fucking aliens. He hated aliens. But it wasn’t the bigger, more immediate threat right now. There were plenty of them ganging up on that smaller target. The Courier would focus his attention on the big monster in front of him. He missed the advice the Cadet had given, about attacking the legs to knock it down or how its slime was explosive, so he had only his intuition and observations to go from, which admittedly were pretty good.

As Drumstick charged forward, The Courier activated VATS. Time slowed to a complete stop, allowing him to measure up his enemy. It seemed everyone who wasn’t Bowser was keeping their distance, and judging from the koopa king’s current state that was a damn good idea. He checked the chances of hitting various parts of the monster’s body with VATS, all of which were a very high percentage due to its sheer size, but he didn’t want to waste his stamina by queuing up automatic attacks. Instead he had a different plan.

GRX Implant operational.

Oh HELL yeah! The implant fed into the Courier’s brain the details: it had come back online and had its full storage of 5 doses of turbo ready to go. Now he could show his hombres what he could really do! As Drumstick approached the monster, the Courier jumped off from the bird’s back (which then stopped its trot). In midair the Courier called upon his first striker, the lakelurk, to appear directly beneath his feet. He used it as a platform to jump further forward and up, then dismissed it back into the ether from which it came. He still wasn’t high enough, or close enough, and so at the apex of this jump the Courier called upon his second striker, Bastion (who had recovered from the last battle after hours of rest), using the omnic as another jumping platform! Now the Courier was flipping directly overhead to the brachydios, Ratslayer in hand. Implant GRX: activate!

Time slowed to a crawl, but this was different from VATS. This wasn’t just the Courier’s awareness moving at intense speed. He was still moving at the same rate from his own perspective, while to everyone else he’d appear to be a blur! The hulking monster below him, now nearly eye to eye, couldn’t hope to swing its large, cumbersome arm fast enough to swat him from the air. He lifted his Ratslayer, his rifle with high critical hit rate, and unloaded every shot in its 8 round clip directly at the brachydios’ face.

The Courier landed on the ground behind the Brachydios with a tumble, failing to stick the landing and rolling along the ground as time managed to catch up to him. 4 doses left. GRX refill in 24 hours. The implant communicated into his brain. ”Great, we’ll see if I need’em before then.”

The Courier scrambled back to his feet to run away, unwilling to see how well the brachydios took those shots to the face, but that still left Bastion who was not dismissed the same as the lakelurk. The omnic robot wasted no time shifting into tank mode and began unloading everything it had into the monster, having started this process even as soon as the Courier had used him as a springboard.
Name: Reinhilde Amstein, or R. Amstein

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Stand: Shoot to Thrill


Reinhilde Amstein is a tall woman at 6’1” and full of regal glory. Her lean body is well muscled from intensive physical conditioning, and somewhat tanned from outdoor exposure. Despite this, her posture and walk betray her high life upbringing, very straight, postured, and very proper. Meticulous, one might even call her movements. Her face slopes down to a sharp triangular point at the chin, while her lips are full and her nose is petite. Her blue eyes are the envy of the Third Reich’s idea of the Aryan master race, though her obsidian black hair is not. It sits down shoulder length, free when not styled for noble events. R. Amstein is known to wear a large variety of designer dresses when entertaining high society life, but in her own time prefers a more practical ensemble: a gray dress embroidered with a fine red jewel covered by a bear-skinned coat (which she skinned and made herself), and her brown hunting hat.

  • Peak physical conditioning honed through wilderness survival and fighting carnivorous predators
  • Master shot
  • Skilled fencer
  • Meticulous planner and strategist
  • Terrible terrible liar
  • Lethal chef


History: Reinhilde Amstein was born in 1915 as an Austrian noblewoman. Her parents had tried for many years before and many years since her birth, but they could not produce any more children, nor a viable male heir. This caused her parents to be more reclusive from their daughter than would be healthy and she was raised primarily by caretakers. For a good chunk of her young life Reinhilde wondered what she could have done wrong to have her parents turn on her, for the idea of nobility and the politics involved wasn’t something so easily understood at such a tender age. Seeing her sadness, her head caretaker, an absolute beast of a woman named Olga, decided to teach the young girl all about self-reliance and personal strength.

Between lessons on courtesy and social interactions, Olga had R. Amstein take lessons in fencing, boxing, took her to the family firing range, and on long weekends would take her camping where the two ladies would “rough it” with only 2 knives between them for supply. It was hard, but it was the kind of personal, one on one interaction that Reinhilde needed to become a strong woman, to come into her own.

As she aged into her teens, her parents would rear their heads here and there to present her with potential suitors, men from other noble families across Europe and Russia. She would have none of it, however. Her parents had given up hope on making their own heir and so hoped to auction her off to unite with another family for their own benefit and she refused to play that role. Reinhilde swore that she would take over the family herself as the true heir: she was not some prize to be won or given away so someone else could handle her family’s estate.

As the years went by more and more suitors came to her doorstep to ask her hand in courtship and, soon after, marriage. The quality of these suitors seemed to be going down as time went on, for the political climate was changing. An Austrian man by the name of Adolf Hitler had become the head of state in their brother country of Germany, and things were in motion. People were expressing… Strange opinions. Shifting blame to different ethnic groups, swearing this man would bring Germany, and of course Austria, into a new golden age. Reinhilde had to admit, while she agreed with this man’s goals, the methods seemed… Misplaced. That everyone was flocking to support this little man and his tantrums was truly mindboggling, even if his policies did rebuild Germany after the Great War and the vastly unfair Treaty of Versailles sank that country into the ground. But no, she shot these suitors down as she did all the others before, making her parents more and more desperate.

Then the second Great War began, World War II as they were calling it. Austria was officially allied to Germany, as were Italy, Japan, and numerous other smaller countries. Reinhilde pleaded with her parents over the state of the world, made them swear not to support the Nazi party or the Third Reich, which they did. However they still had a fundraiser to attend to in Berlin, which left her suspicious. She followed them in secrecy to find that they had, in fact, lied to her. They were participating in a fundraiser alright, but for the Nazi party. She spied on them from across a nearby rooftop, disgusted. With her pistol on hand, she wanted to end it all, but… At that range, with only a sidearm? There was no way. That’s when she started to see numbers appearing across her vision. Distance, wind speed and angle, suddenly her father’s smug face was up close like she were staring right into his soulless eyes. Suddenly the facts were clear: she could make the shot. Reinhilde lifted her pistol, took aim, and fired. With that one twitch of the finger she did the impossible and ended the lives of two people: her mother and father brought down from a distance that shouldn’t have been doable by even the most experienced sniper using an unfit weapon. Biting back the tears, she ran…

More years past and R. Amstein dealt with her trauma in the worst of ways. Supporters of the Third Reich naturally came to inform her of her parents’ demise and ask if she had anything to do with it. Being a terrible liar, she outed herself almost instantly and was forced to kill the inspectors. Of course she couldn’t stick around the manor after that, so she took off into the wilderness to survive. But she wouldn’t be hunted. She would be the hunter. Nazis and their supporters came looking for her, and all they would find was death. Eventually they stopped sending men after her, but that didn’t stop her from hunting them down anywhere she could and killing them without warning or mercy. She got a thrill from it, hunting down these beasts in the guise of men, intoxicated by it…

Reinhilde Amstein has been hunting and killing soldiers of the Axis Powers anywhere she can come across them. The isolation, the death, it’s made her a bit… Off. If she were reacclimated to society then she’d perhaps remember all her social skills, but for now she may not be able to distinguish friend from foe...

Other: Name references German metal band Ramstein.
Jonathan and Josuke are best JoJos.

Stand Name: 「Shoot to Thrill」

Stand Parameters:
  • Destructive Power: Null, Shoot to Thrill possesses no offensive capabilities whatsoever.
  • Speed: B, Shoot to Thrill can switch between visual modes in a flash but still be caught off guard by truly fast moving opponents.
  • Range: E, Shoot to Thrill manifests directly on the user’s eye and only affects the user’s vision. It has no influence beyond its user.
  • Persistence: A, Shoot to Thrill can remain active indefinitely.
  • Precision: A, Shoot to Thrill can pinpoint or calculate the most minute of details.
  • Developmental Potential: C

Stand Description:

Shoot to Thrill is a wearable stand that takes the form of a cybernetic eye mask placed over R. Amstein’s right eye, covering half her cheek. It wraps around her head with three black straps and appears to be made largely of a bronze-tinted metal. The actual eye lens changes color depending on what visual mode is currently active.

Power Description: Shoot to Thrill’s only ability is to grant the user various forms of extra-sensory sight and derive calculations and measurements from this info. It can zoom telescopically in order to magnify a target from over a mile away to appear to be within only a few feet. It can zoom microscopically to view details on a cellular level. It also has a sonar mode and can switch around the EM spectrum (including UV rays, radio waves, thermal imaging, x-ray, etc.). In any of these modes Shoot to Thrill can calculate distances, angles, account for wind, etc. in order to provide the user with the data necessary for improbable to near impossible feats, such as ricocheting a bullet to hit someone around a corner directly in the left nostril. While calculations are active in any vision mode, different vision modes cannot overlap and must be switched out (Shoot to Thrill cannot, for example, be reading thermal imaging while zoomed in and mapping sonar, but it can do any of these individually while calculating the perfect shot). Additionally, while Shoot to Thrill can provide the user with all the data necessary to accomplish a particular feat, it does not assist in actually lining up the shot and pulling the trigger: the user still has to rely on their own skill.

Other: References the song “Shoot to Thrill” by AC/DC
Courier 6 and Ratchet and Jak & Daxter

Level 6 - (10/60) EXP (+3), Level 6 - (0/60) (+3), Level 3 - (23/30) (+3)
Location: Lumbridge
Dead Zone - Redgraccoon Police Department
Word Count:1654
Ratchet Level-up!

The Courier hummed quietly to himself as he strolled through Lumbridge all on his lonesome. It caused him to miss the beginning of the festivities, but that didn’t bother him none. A lonesome drifter with no name, that’s all he was. All he’d ever be, really. Didn’t matter what he accomplished, how many lives he saved, who he put into power. He wasn’t the hero of his story. He was just a messenger. Sure, he’d done more than his fair share of good deeds, but people rarely remembered the cause in favor of celebrating the effect. And he liked it that way. Too much bother, being famous. Being celebrated.

“‘Ello stranga!” called the voice of a strangely clad man with a gravelly voice. The Courier stopped a moment to look over at the dark alley of this man and raised an eyebrow. “Got somethin’ tha migh’ intrest ya’! Heh heh heh.”

And like that the mysterious cloaked figure pulled back into the darkness. Courier 6 warily followed into the alley, hand on his holster just in case, but once he pierced the cloak of shadow there was… Nothing there.

The Courier shrugged it off, and went back on his merry way. Wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to him even before all the worlds got smashed together, so why pay it any mind with the crazy mixup of universes? Naw, that didn’t bother him none…

After a quick exchange of his loot ticket at the designated shop, the Courier left with a grand prize. There was plenty to pick from to be certain, monster parts from all manner of critters and creatures he had seen on this journey thus far, and plenty from things he’d still been stranger to. But his gaze settled on one and only item and he knew in his heart of hearts without question that was what he wanted: an Omnic megacore. Instantly his interest in robotics and technology began dreaming up possible designs with this thing at the center. He already had a copy of the Omnic coding on his Pip-Boy, and unlimited access to Bastion. He could combine these schematics with the robots of his own world, securitrons and assaultrons, and even find pieces from other universes! This creation would be a marvel, something truly amazing!

He idly patted the Revolution machine gun at his side, then sighed. Gaige… He was too rash in using her spirit for loot, for making that gun. Her expertise, whether combined into him or as an assistant in striker form, would have been invaluable. Her abilities were utterly wasted in this form. And yet Peach’s new abilities could not reform the spirit from the weapon, unlike when combined into people. Maybe someone else out there could, but for now? A single tear fell from the cowboy’s left eye as he ,ade his way back to the feast…

The Courier slid in toward the end of the meal, grabbing up whatever he could and eating straight from the serving platters. His manners left something to be desired, but it was clear that things were wrapping up so he figured, “Eh, why not?” He spotted the final quest giver, the white-clade martial artist Ryu, and noticed the distinct lack of red in the eyes, and noted it as peculiar. He wanted a fight, yes? And those who fought under the influence of Galeem wouldn’t stop fighting unless dead or freed, so… He shrugged. Stood to reason one of their allies had beaten Ryu and released him with a friend heart.

Just as much he noticed the hunter fellow, that Geralt he had traveled with before separating to gather wigglers, was still around and most definitely did still have the eyes. Hmm. Well as long as there was no trouble yet, that wasn’t a problem. They likely didn’t run into enough danger to release Geralt without having to get their hands dirty themselves.

Then the Courier noticed a new collection of loot that had been freed up, most of which had already been claimed. He eyed it all in observation, but nothing in particular caught his interest, save for… ”Pardon your majesty, but that fine powder there does appear to be a new chem I’ve never seen before. Chems’re somethin’ of mah speciality y’know. Same what with what happens t’be in these here bottles. I’can do a little… Research’n let y’know what they do. Maybe even make’em better, if’n you don’ object.”

”GAAAAAH! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!?!” Daxter darted back and forth, to and fro, wildly flailing his limbs about. Jak chuckled.

”What’s wrong, Dax? Didn’t you once say to me, and I quote, ‘I’m short, I’m orange, and I itch in strange places. I couldn’t do any worse?’” He shrugged playfully, clearly enjoying the situation.

”Don’t play with me, you KNOW that was before we found out that I’m a Precursor!” Daxter pointed accusingly. While Jak was enjoying himself, Daxter’s anger was genuine. ”Besides! I think fur beats bark! And now I’ve got this big glowing thingy on my chest, what’s this all about?” Daxter tapped on the glowing weak spot like he was trying to get the attention of someone on the other side of a glass window, and instantly winced from the pain.

”IT’S A BIG WEAK SPOT, JAK! I LITERALLY have a big! Glowing! Target! On my beautiful chest!” The ottsel-turned-tree fell into a fetal position and began shaking comically, only for the motion to release more of the spores from his body. Jak backed away, waving them aside with his hand.

”Watch it buddy! You’re putting out that paralyzing toxic stuff in the air.”

”Oh I’m sorry, AM I?” Daxter jumped back up to his feet and started approaching Jak angrily, who nervously backed up until he hit a wall and couldn’t move any further. ”Sorry, I can’t help it, because IT’S NOT A DECISION I CHOSE TO MAKE!” Daxter thrust his fingertip into Jak’s gut, then turned round to stomp off… Releasing tiny shockwaves as he went.

”Ok, ok, fine, I get you. We can pop back through the teleporter and get Peach to remove it any time.” Jak said, gesturing to the portal.

”You know what’s worst about this?” Dax asked, turning his head to see Jak behind him. ”Now I’m too big to ride your bony, uncomfortable shoulder, Jak. Oh yeah and I’ll poison you too. Buuuut I think I can try this out, at least for a little bit. See how it works out.”

”Huh I didn’t expect him to come around to it so quickly,” Ratchet commented out loud.

“Pardon me gentlemen, but I do believe the rest of the group is ready to move on,” interjected Clank, pointing out that V, Nero, and the others were already in the process of leaving them all behind.

”Right, time to get moving and kick some ass.”

The pairs of duos trekked along with the others, Daxter keeping his distance to prevent from accidentally poisoning anybody and complaining about his feet hurting the whole way. Thanks to Blazermate’s new upgrade, no zombies bothered them and all of them found her “unique” flair to the creatures to be funny and charming, in its own grotesque way. Alas things couldn’t remain so easy for too long. Angels attacked a helicopter in the air which crashed into a police station. Two women were atop the building clearly in need of help.

”Are those… Flying faces?” Ratchet asked incredulously, pulling out his handcannon, still loaded with the pistol bullets.

”And I thought our world was weird,” Daxter added.

There was no time, more monsters were emerging that noticeably did not fall under whatever rules governed Blazermate’s arm, and the women up top needed help. Jak transformed into Light Jak, sprouting his ethereal wings and pulling out his morph gun in scattergun mode. He took off to the rooftop, flying after Banjo and Kazooie, leaving Daxter alone at the bottom of the street.

”Ok, sure, I’ll just stay here and, uh, protect Nero! The dude without an arm, y’know? Gotta be mindful of the handicapped, right?” Nero then hopped from zombie to zombie and showed his combat prowess with his incredible sword cleaving skills. ”I mean uh… I’ll protect V! The guy’s basically on death’s door the way he coughs!” Only V was gone, already by Nero’s side and skewering enemies with his pet demons. ”Ok, no, I can, uh, I’ll protect-”

”Everyone here is capable, Daxter!” Ratchet shouted, running into battle and firing headshots at a number of the approaching enemies. Clank appeared on Ratchet’s back and looked down at Daxter, speaking in a more soothing voice. “Even you, my friend.”

Daxter looked back to see the tombstones were now apparently generating new demons from pools of blood! Daxter steeled his gaze and took a running leap toward them! ”YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!” he screamed in a half-battle cry, half-panic, landing amidst the tombstones and generating a huge shockwave along the ground!

Meanwhile Jak landed atop the roof of the police station, dispelling his wings and Light Jak form, for it was too slow and clunky for natural fliers such as these angels. ”Get away from her!” he shouted, firing off a cone of red eco directly into one of the angels attacking the non-catgirl.
@Yankee@BCTheEntity Genon and I left our collab open to be interacted with by others from group 2. While Birra’s stand is tiny, it is out in the open right now to be seen, while Caffe is, of course, a celebrity and a nobleman.

Actually, hell, we could potentially work in that Caffe and Phil are already acquainted as extreme sports celebrities, coupled by how stand users are drawn together.
Courier 6 and Ratchet and Jak & Daxter

Level 6 - (7/60) EXP (+3+4 quest reward)), Level 5 - (47/50) (+3+13 quest reward), Level 3 - (20/30) (+3+8 quest reward)
Location: Land of Adventure - Coral Highlands -> Lumbridge
Dead Zone - Charnal Lane
Word Count:1629

Good lord the Ace Cadet was a talkative one, wasn’t he? Couldn’t hardly get a word in edgewise to the kid, and he was supposed to be the one telling the story! Well, at least the kid was eager to help, definitely seemed to have a good heart in the right place. Even so would it kill the Cadet to just sit, listen, and save all questions for the end of the presentation? Wasn’t like the Courier had an encyclopaedic understanding of the situation anyway and some of the questions he had were getting downright annoying. Still, he did get through everything before they got back to Lumbridge and that gave them a few minutes to listen to the radio in relative peace. The Courier figured he’d get some good ol’ news and switched his pip-boy on to Radio New Vegas.

“That was ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ by the Inkspots, and it’s one near and dear to my heart. You know, I’m often asked, ‘Mr. New Vegas, is there a special person you’re passionate for in your life?’ Of course there is. You’re that person, all my loyal listeners. I just want to start a flame in your heart. And now, the news.

“Our first story comes in from the Southern Wastes. It seems the dangerous gang of marauders wandering that area have been taken out, completely wiped off the map. Details of the heroes who did the deed are sketchy, but if you’re an evil doer out there, looks like you’ve got a reason to watch your back.

“Moving on, sightings of an enormous black bird in the dark forest continue. Remember listeners, if you see a tweety that big, there’s no shame in hiding. Avoid the area if you can, but if you have no choice then be extra careful to not let it see you. We’ve had more than one confirmed casualty.”

With the end of the second news story, the Courier and his new companion made it back to Lumbridge, all in one piece. 6 hopped off his chocobo and gave it a friendly pat on the beak, leading it around with him. It wasn’t long before another group returned right behind him, this one consisting of Michael, Franklin, and the Hat Kid along with a newcomer they hadn’t seen before. That’s when Mr. New Vegas chimed in with his final news story of the segment.

“Our final story today comes is sponsored by the Silver Rush. Do you need someone dead? Really dead? Come by the Silver Rush for all your energy weapon needs. With that out of the way, it’s my pleasure to report to you that several mysterious hourglasses have been found all over the Sleepless City. Nobody is sure what they do just yet, but everyone agrees on one thing for sure: they’re the latest thing! Really the cat’s pajamas! So if you want one, be sure you’re ready to sweat for them!

“And that’s the news. This has been Mr. New Vegas, of Radio New Vegas, signing out. Stay beautiful, everybody.”

With the news over, the Courier decided to switch off his radio and focus on getting the wigglers back to the quest giver so he could get his reward. Annoyingly, the Cadet was still sticking around. Did the kid think he was going to get a cut of the reward? Apparently not, since the Cadet let 6 have everything without so much as a single word, a single look of want. Well, good. Because he did all the work and was hustling the job long before the Cadet just bumped in so he deserved the benefits, right? Speaking of the benefits… The Courier wasn’t so sure about the helmet. It was, how to put it without being rude? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Then a potted wiggler? What kind of reward was this supposed to be anyway? What exactly did these creatures do other than hide in their little holes? The third reward was significantly more satisfying though: a ticket that could be traded for a “rare resource.” Yeah, that was more like it. And ok, the hat’s ability was certainly good. Being able to spread the effects of items to nearby allies, in his case his chems, would be a great boon. But did it have to look so… Stupid?

Finally the Courier had some respite from the Ace Cadet, who said he was going to get something from his home before meeting with everyone else. Thank God. The kid meant well, and hell he was even pretty agreeable, but sometimes that was more annoying than someone you had friction with. Once everyone had gathered at the guild hall the Cadet could spread himself thin among the whole group and save 6 some headache. Speaking of which, it was about time to go back and meet up with everyone.

Once everyone had gathered in the guild hall, the “guild master” appeared again and the Courier’s heart instantly flared up in anger. Even if this man’s mannerisms and voice were nothing like the Master of Master’s, the physical resemblance still pissed him off and he didn’t believe for a second the two had no association. He just had no way to prove it… Yet. Setting aside his personal feelings, the facts were laid out plain as day: the quests were all done so they could begin the battle against the F rank monster, or wait and have a nice meal, which seemed to be free.

”Hell, I ain’t one to be turnin’ down anyone’s hospitality,” the Courier chuckled. In reality he just liked getting anything for free, greedy as he was. And take advantage of the free meal he most certainly would do, but there were two last errands to deal with before that.

The Courier locked eyes with Princess Peach, feeling like she would be the best to deal with something. He slid on over and casually slid the potted wiggler in her direction. ”Got ya a gift, your highness,” he said rather bluntly. ”Had it on hand, figured it was something in your wheelhouse. Anyway, later. Got dusty trails to hit.”

With that, the Courier headed on out to the Melding Pot, ticket in hand to take his pick of reward.

Jak and Ratchet stood by and watched on as Blazermate’s horde of zombies gathered atop the ent to finish it off, literally ripping the thing to shreds piece by piece. Jak raised an eyebrow, finding the whole display to be rather odd but didn’t have any strong reactions. Ratchet preferred to shield his eyes from the carnage as this was just a little too much for his stomach. Meanwhile Daxter stood atop Jak’s shoulder eyes comically bulged out, making wild gestures and signs of obvious disgust. He even hand to force his mouth shut to prevent from vomiting!

Ratchet turned away, unable to look and longer and went to scavenge the battlefield. He grabbed a few rot wort and hollow spirits and shoved them into his Reaper to recharge the soul energy used as its ammunition. Then the lombax came across the minigun Kamek had just left lying on the ground, refilled of its ammo from the dispenser built by Blazermate’s engineer spirit. First Ratchet refilled the ammunition of his Coyote-B shotgun, then a big smile swept across Ratchet’s face as he snagged the minigun and took a pose. ”Hey wizard guy, you mind if I keep this? You’re not really a gun guy, but I can really make this puppy howl!”

Jak was more interested in the spirit left behind by the ent as it dissipated, melting away into nothingness. He was already wading through the thick of the zombies (much to Daxter’s utter disgust) when Blazer asked if anybody wanted “the part?” He wasn’t so into wasting time, so he grabbed the little floating mote without answering, looking it over. For the first time he was holding a spirit, the key to gaining more strength and power in this world. Strength and power necessary to defeating the 13 guardians and killing Galeem. Strength and power necessary for saving all his friends.

”What’cha gonna do with that, Jak?” Daxter asked, leaning in close to peer in at it. ”Wanna turn it into a helper? Or smash it for some loot? Ooh, or you can put it in yourself to become a scary tree man! Wooooo~!” Daxter waggled his fingers to emphasize the creepiness.

”You know, Daxter, I think I’ve had enough dark crud pumped into my body. Don’t you think?” Jak looked back to his friend a bit wistfully.

”Sure, sure, I get ya. So weapon or striker then? Ooh, I could totally use a giant tree assistant! It’ll help me reach high places.” Daxter gave a suggestive wink.

”Actually, I had another plan.”

”Another plan? What do you want to do with it Ja-ah no!” Jak quickly shoved the spirit of the ent into Daxter’s chest, who fell off his shoulder to the ground to begin the transformation. As that was going on, Jak turned away from his friend going through what was likely to be a horrific and dark change, maybe even painful, to address the newcomer.

”V, right? Haven’t heard much about you, but if you control demons you must be powerful. Nero said we had to meet up with you, destroy these tree roots, then find the boss at the center of town. Name’s Jak, and that’s Daxter.”


”He grows on you.”
Collab with @genon

Caffe shook his head with arms crossed, leaning back against a white marble pillar. ”No no no fratellino, you’re going about it all wrong!” He chastised his long lost, now found, half brother Birra. They were secluded in the back of the Lucidostella Manor in the garden which had, at one point, hosted a number of parties and soirees. Now the glass tables and chairs had been set aside for large mannequins and training dummies. The family butler, Frederick Mercury, was busy throwing a scorched dummy into a large pile of other scorched, blown apart dummies, then dutifully got back to work setting up another in its place.

”If you’re gonna master your stand, you’re gonna need to put some more OOMF into it!” To emphasize his point Caffe punched into his open palm. It wasn’t the best direction he could give his little brother. After all, they were just too different people. Caffe enjoyed living on the edge, something that caused Frederick no end of discomfort, but Birra? He was another type of personality entirely.

As for Birra himself, he was...not used to this kind of physical labor. REG boosted his strength, stamina, speed, durability, and reflexes dramatically, to the point where he felt like he could rip a car in half with his bare hands, run a marathon in thirty seconds, dodge a speeding bullet, or walk off a tank shell to the face.

So it should say something that he still was breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, from how hard he was being pushed.

If other Stand users were as dangerous as he was told, he couldn’t rightly stop, But continuing like this was Einstein’s definition of madness. He needed to up his game. He decided to focus for a moment, steeling himself and concentrating on his right hand. Then, put all of his enhanced physical strength into a lightning-fast body blow to the dummy.

Its arms, legs, and head blew clean off, but the torso flew backwards with a dent and a spiderweb crack in its midsection as flames licked at the impact site. It flew between the gaps in the courtyard’s pillars and smashed open a formerly-locked pair of double doors. It kept flying. He heard something crash inside and the familiar scratching of the claws of Zaffiro, the family cat, against the floor as she booked it towards another part of the manor.


“Uh...sorry! I didn’t expect that to happen!” Birra called back, now sweating even more profusely. He turned to Caffe. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to cause property damage…” he said, putting his hands to his head.

Caffe grinned. As troublesome as it all was, the loud noise, the destruction, the accidents, it was… Lively. He wiped the grin from his face, almost literally, by taking a pose and pointing down in the direction of Birra. ”You dropped your guard, fratellino!”

“Wait, what?” was all Birra managed to say before--”GACK!”--he took what felt like a prize-fighter’s fist to the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

A button had shot back from inside the manor with the speed and force of a high caliber rifle, punching right into Birra’s exposed gut. If he hadn’t been actively using his stand to empower himself, there’s little chance Birra could have survived the blow, but where did it come from? And how?

”Before Mercury set up that doll, I touched one of the buttons with Walk the Line.” Caffe explained, shifting his pose and leaning against the pillar with a single open palm. ”It spent several seconds dancing around the seams of that doll. As soon as you knocked the doll outside of my effective range, well…” The elder brother shrugged, smiling a big goofy grin with closed eyes. ”Even when you think you’ve won, you can’t ever drop your guard against another stand user. Not until you know for a fact it’s done and over with.”

“Are they all that inventive?” Birra said as he got to his feet.

Caffe took a step forward and held out his hand to help Birra back up. ”In my experience? If they were, I’d already be dead. Heheheheheh. But they’ve come damn close. Most stand users are quite creative with their stands. Sometimes it’s situational and you have to think on your feet, aware of your surroundings. Since yours is as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face, you’ve got to work extra hard in creative application, fratellino.”

Once Birra was up, Caffe turned back to the butler just as the stoic Englishman was about to clean up the mess. ”Don’t worry about that, Mercury. We made this mess, it’s only fair we clean it, am I right?” He looked back to Birra to get his little brother’s confirmation.

“Uh, yeah. I guess after we’ve cleaned up the courtyard I’ll go to the furniture store for another table, and call the locksmith about getting the door lock replaced.” Birra said. “God, that can’t have been cheap. Sorry again, Caffe.” He began gathering up nearby dummy parts, using his massive strength to carry several dozen pounds of mannequin.

“Uh, sir, please, it’s no trouble for me to-“ Frederick Mercury couldn’t get out anymore before his young master interrupted.

”It’s no trouble for me you mean. You’re always working so hard, let us get this.” The butler sighed in defeat, remembering what happened the last time Caffe opted to “clean up” for him, and event destined to repeat itself. After a minute the random debris bits had been gathered up and put into a pile with the rest of the broken dolls and mannequins.

”Time to go to work… WALK THE LINE!” Caffe stood tall, stretching himself out as much as he could to the point of standing on his toes. He dramatically pointed an index finger to the sky, his stand appearing next to him as he did so. Shingshingshingshingshingshing came the sound of slicing air as the mechanized stand rapidly punched the pile into a large clump of broken debris, each fragment no larger than a silver dollar. Then a metallic green aura appeared around the pile and it shot away from Caffe at bullet-like speeds, zipping along between the tiles! Going, going, GONE! The debris flung itself straight out of the yard, over the iron fence and hundreds of meters away… into the neighbor’s yard.

Mercury sighed, shaking his head. “I shall go wait by the phone for the inevitable complaint…”

“I was going to take those to the porch….” Birra said, looking at his brother incredulously. He then said, waving his arms, “I was gathering them into a pile so I could get something to put them in! The neighbor’s yard is not a magical place where all trash disappears! They have grounds to sue us now!”

He looked at Frederick sympathetically. “Yeah, you know what, I think you should handle the rest. I’m going to go practice guitar.” He began to walk off, but wasn’t quite out of the courtyard yet.

Caffe scoffed. ”Tch. If you’d ever had one of the Spinelli’s shrimp cocktails then trust me, you’d agree they’re trash.” He moved to catch up with Birra, which wasn’t too difficult considering one was on foot, while the other was wearing professional grade roller blades.

”Did I hear you say you’re gonna practice guitar? Fratellino, we must take responsibility for our actions!” he clapped a hand against Birra’s back, then used that contact as a swivel point to roll circles around his younger brother. ”You mentioned earlier going into town for a new door? Or was it the table? Either way, I’m sure your mother would appreciate if we followed through on that promise. Come! I will drive!”

Birra internally sighed. He was really reluctant to do this after Caffe’s response to simply taking out the garbage was to launch the garbage into the fucking sky. But whatever. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Soon enough, they were in Caffe’s absurd sports car, driving to the furniture store. What was this thing, a Ferrari? A Lamborghini? A Bugatti? He couldn’t tell anymore without checking the marque, Caffe had so many sports cars that Birra felt that he was in a new car every day. It was insane.

He felt the wind on his face as they rushed into town, idly playing with his GBA during the car ride. He had REG attached to the outside of the passenger-side mirror, letting him see from the Stand’s perspective as the wind rushed by.

This was one of his favorite things about his Stand. Having a second pair of eyes around you. Invaluable. Especially when it made the best car airbag possible.
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