DDR? I think not sir.

[Death's Nephew]

((Closed to Eyes Of... now. Info thread found here (http://althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=100633#post100633).))

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

Tommy counted to himself as the big fat kid punched the smaller one in the stomach, holding him against a tree by his neck and continuously pounding into the child. He was smirking because as he watched the bully land his fat, cushioned fingers into the bony ribs of the smaller kid, the victim was building quite a large amount of rage. Not only could the half-specter see it in his tear filled eyes, but in his salivating mouth, gritted teeth and the pure feel of hatred that was seething of off him in huge, comforting energy waves that just gave him tingles up his spine.

Twenty-three. Twenty-four.

Suddenly the child’s fist shot up like a rocket and connected with the fat boy’s chin. He reeled back, chubby arms waving in the air hoping to keep his balance, and then it was all over. The smaller kid leapt on him like a rapid squirrel, punching him in the face, clawing at his eyes, and biting his ears.

Tommy leaned off his own tree in the shade and laughed. It was good to see real life fights before entering the Citadel. Even if they were both going to live…did a tooth just bounce in front of his boot? No, not a tooth. Teeth. Teeth were flying out of the fat kid like popcorn from a pan. The young specter laughed again as he kicked them out of his way and began climbing the steps of the dark enormous building before him. So maybe he wouldn’t live. Who the hell cared. Wasn’t his fight. He’d been too busy fighting for everyone else lately, he hadn’t had a good killing of his own. Just knifing some asshole in the neck and watching him bleed to death. Now that was a good night out.

He looked over his shoulder and stifled a chuckle as he saw the smaller kid picking up a large broken tree branch about his size and heaving it over his shoulder. The fat kid was bleeding from the eyes and mouth in long dripping gushes but it wasn’t enough for his former prey. As he tried to frantically crawl to the steps of the Citadel, possibly seeking refuge among the adults, the scrawny kid roared like a tiny little barbarian and brought the make-shift club down onto his target’s skull. There was a crack, a suddenly limp body, and then lots of seeping blood.

Tommy stopped snickering.

The kid seemed stunned for a moment and then lifted the branch again, bludgeoning the probably unconscious fat boy over and over, until he was the most likely very dead body with what used to be a head.

The leather jacket wearing specter fell to a knee and broke out into hysterics.

The kid didn’t hear him at all and just kept whacking away, not convinced at all that his adversary was finished. Tommy was rolling on the floor, tears streaming from his eyes, holding his stomach in pain.

“Oh my fuckin’ God! Hahahahaha! I can’t believe…..Hahahahahha! That was fuckin’ amazing!” He stopped laughing for a second to inhale some air and stood up, and looked at the child hard at work. “Wow kid! Great job! Hahahaha! Fucking great!” His laughter attracted the attention of some people near the door of the Citadel and as he turned his back to the amazingly funny spectacle behind him, he heard cries of surprise and anger from the adults who saw the blood covered child now working on the rest of the body with a large rock he’d found somewhere.

“Oh man….hahah…kids these days.” He said to the monk at the front counter, who was standing on tip toe to see over Tommy, anxious to know what the growing commotion was on his steps. “Hey, over here.” The specter motioned at him with a small wave. Blinking away his curiosity, he bowed slightly and asked what he’d like today.

“Ahhhh, let me get…something fun. I need some real good fun. Haven’t had it in a while. If there are naked chicks there too, even better. “ The monk assured Tommy he couldn’t guarantee it, but he’d see what he could do.

“Go left, then right. Follow the path with the eyes on the wall, turn after you see the picture of a monkey, take ten steps, turn left, go down the ladder, follow the hallway, turn right, go up the stairs-”

“Wait if I just went down the ladder, why the hell would I go up stairs?”

“Go UP the stairs,” the monk sighed, “Then take a left, run as fast as you can down this hallway, it’s VERY important that you do, and duck as soon as you feel an air current on your neck. Oh and turn right at the intersection. Your room is 1337.”

Tommy just stared at him.

“Excuse me sir, but you requested something ‘fun’. Getting to the room includes some of that fun.” He forced a smile, but the young fighter could see his frustration. “Here,” he said as he quickly scribbled arrows and “run here” notes on a small paper. Tommy snatched it and went on his way.

This had better be the best goddamn walk I’ve ever been on.

***

“WHAT IN THE HELL?!!!” Tommy rolled violently into the black stone corridor as giant guillotines sprang out of either end of the walls and tried to chop him at the shoulder and the stomach. He thought sprinting out of the reach of the amazingly fast legless zombies down the hallways earlier had been surprising, but this certainly took the first place prize. I thought maybe some darts or knives would come at me…sweet baby Jesus…

He dusted himself off and slid up against the wall, pondering if the monk was still trying to kill him. He always seemed to have some kind of grudge with an employee of this Citadel every time he came here. I really gotta talk to a manager about this crap.

1337.

It’s shiny gold door and polished pearl handle gleamed at him with a sense of murderous glee. The face of it was plain, no emblems or designs, but Tommy felt its aura was just right. As he walked up to the door to pull the handle, a small hole appeared in door and suddenly a moving picture (Like a movie; Tommy had heard passing ghosts mention not being able to see the “World Premiere of the Ghostbuster’s movie before dying and questioned them about what it was) with a pretty woman dressed in the monk’s standard uniform.

“Hello Tommy! This message will also be given to your competitor. The object of this battle is to kill your opponent! We felt since you wanted something a little more exciting than a simple one on one, we have placed in a large number of hindrances that could very well kill you and/or your opponent. In order to determine who your target will be, each of you will have the luxury of seeing each other for the first time with a slight golden glow about your bodies. After initial combat has begun, the glow will fade away instantly and you‘ll be free to use whatever tactics suit you best. Just don‘t die before he or she gets there!”

Her cute smile sent a chill down his spine.

“Also, feel free to dispose of these ‘obstacles’ however you like! Enjoy your time!” She winked and blew a kiss at him. The screen went dark and then faded away completely. Holding his breath, he pulled open the door and walked through the portal. Immediately he felt at home. It was a pretty dark place but very noisy. Strobe lights were bouncing all over the walls and floor and people were dancing like lunatics with bits of bright jewelry about their necks, ears, and wrists. No one seemed to notice he was there, but he figured he was fitting right in with his appearance. A neon glowing paper near where he entered caught his eye.


Tonight’s Rave List!
Streamline (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaPNLpeWTGc&feature=related)
MK Techno Remix (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnTAEj5Cvfc&NR=1)
Fusion Dance (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLiv-fS0zxk&feature=related)
Infinite Dimensions*
Darwin*
Firefly*
Fracus* (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYkuhfsoX6M&feature=related)
Be sure to dance ‘til you DROP!!!

He listened to the beat of the first song and felt like busting a move. As he sauntered towards the crowd while keeping an eye out for the glow, he felt a funny vibe coming from the people. At first he couldn’t place it. Something was off. He ran a hand through his snow white hair and stopped moving, carefully examining the surging and popping sea of dancers.

A glint from the strobe lights caught his eye.

They were all packing. Each one had weapons, from knives to short swords to brass knuckles and who knew what else. Ahhh, very nice. So these are my obstacles. The dagger that once belonged to the mother he never knew began to surge with its blood lust. Still unsure of who or what lived in the blade, he knew only one thing. It was going to have as much, if not more, fun than he was going too.

He decided to test the waters and moved forward slowly, unsheathing the eager steel dagger from its leather prison. It didn’t speak to him, but it was almost as if he could hear it drooling. These were not real people, so Tommy never bothered with judging them for how good a person they could be; they were in his way.

As he neared a sweaty but very well dressed man that could pick up any chick he could want, the dancer suddenly snapped his neck towards Tommy and lunged at his throat. The half-specter took a small jump back and swiped at his eyes, slicing right through the pupils. The man staggered back holding his face, screaming at the top of his lungs, blood pouring from between his fingers.

Not a soul stopped dancing. Not even a look towards the flailing person on the ground.

“Oh oh oh…boy, we are gonna rock this place tonight!” The dagger said in a sinister voice.

Tommy laughed darkly as he watched the blood drip from the tip of his weapon. Oh yes we are…

((*The last 4 songs share the same link. Click the “More” section under “About This Video” to see a list of those songs, should you care to hear them.))

[Eyes of...]

Disgusted.

The emotion washed over the woman as she walked towards what she believed was hallowed halls. The Citadel waited before her, a stalwart monument of the glory of the Radasanthian people, past and present. However, between her and the battlegrounds was a grotesque spectacle. A small child was beating the life out of another child, and none were willing to break the fight up. Awestruck and horrified those that surrounded the two watched, crying out in rage at the obvious winner of the contest, screaming for him to stop. It would not stop though; the child was beyond the control of words alone.

Miki-Chizu, originally a native of the more passive Akashima, was sickened by the sight. She let her pupil-less slate white eyes gaze on the scene as she closed on the stairway, where it was taking place. Brutality of that nature was unknown to her, and by far unwelcome, and the simple fact that none stepped in to stop it worried her. What type of people lived in the island’s capital? What sick people would watch, even horrified, and not attempt to intervene? Granted she was not the type to step into other’s affairs, she was also not the type to watch something so sick take place…

With a swift, powerful kick she caught the brutal child alongside his exposed ribs. The branch he was holding overhead dropped to his side as he curled up and clashed with the last step and rolled onto the cobblestones. Chizu did not let her attention remain on the felled one, but instead focused on the battered child before her. His head was at an unnatural angle, his face bloodied, his eyes shut. If he was dead he could be resurrected by the monks that waited past the doors at the top of the stairs. If he was not dead, he would certainly be within the hour.

“You,” she demanded with a finger pointing at the closest of the spectators. “Stop fucking gawking and run in and have a monk heal this child. After you’re done with that, fucking put that other one in line…” The woman she had pointed to let her open mouthed face rise from the battered child to his savior. “What the hell are you waiting for? I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit shock, move!”

~*~

The room that was given was hardly easy to find, or get to. It was a labyrinth or ridiculous obstacles and unnecessary running. But once the gold door and its pearl handle were before her, it only got worse. Her soft fingers delicately slipped around the handle, but instead of opening a small picture appeared. A smiling woman’s face was present in the center of the door, but it wasn’t just a picture, it was moving. If that was not strange enough, especially for the woman who knew nothing about movies, it began to talk.

“’Miharu Miki-Chizu’, you are the second to venture to this door. The other is already present and waiting within. Fair warning. You will be encountering a completely different style of combat within, as your opponent has already been made aware of so shall you. Caution is going to be required for this bout, for within are plenty of hindrances that could very well kill you or your opponent. To begin you will be allowed to see your opponent once with a golden glow about them. As soon as you have made eye contact with the other the glow will fade and you will be required to continue without assistance.”

The mystic watched as the woman’s picture faded, her mind wondering what the hell the ‘hindrances’ could be. Before pushing aside the door the woman did something that she would normally not, she began to summon her spells. One eye lost its bland white coloration in favor for a soft purple glow, the other took on a stone hue. If there was something so dangerous as to garner a warning beforehand she would not enter unprepared.

With bated breath she twisted the handle and pushed open the door.

A flash of light screamed at her from all sides. It throbbed and pulsed, over and over, blinding and overpowering. She blinked and attempted to find the source, but it seemed to be attacking from all points. Instantly she held up her hands in defense, her concentration focusing on her soul’s power and threading its way through her arms to her hands. Eventually she was able to focus, mostly because a multitude of people continuously ran into her, pushing her from side to side.

Clashing into them was one thing; being lightly prodded by hidden weapons at their sides was something completely different. She was suddenly worried. Her eyes darted from person to person. They all had weapons, from the common sword to an array of less than common tools. Any one of them could turn at any time and attack, but they seemed to not notice her in any way… instead pulsing and throbbing like the lights to the beat of a style of music completely foreign.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” Her words were drowned out by the heavy bass and staccato beat of the music. Cautiously she drifted through the people, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for the golden glow and the other person that was there to fight. Silently she cursed herself for her boredom and interest in the Citadel.

[Death's Nephew]

Tommy was really getting into the beat of the music that pulsed through his very soul. As he waited for someone with a glow to appear, he crept up towards the crowd, giggling with excitement. As young woman with large breasts, a tiny shirt that just barely covered the monstrous melons, and very short shorts stopped dancing and quickly rushed the specter, using her very sharpened glowing sticks in her hands like daggers.

Laughing and hopping back, he kicked hard at her face with the heel of his boot. She reeled back but instantly recovered and rushed the slightly surprised young fighter. He grinned and quickly dodged her slashes and jammed his steel dagger into her throat. She gurgled, struggled a bit against his body, and then fell silent.

Tommy was in heaven. So to speak.

Laughing and wiping his weapon on the back of her shirt and hair, he glanced up to view his surroundings. The song was still underway and he noticed a person above the crowd, dressed a little more flamboyantly than the rest, and rubbing large black discs back and forth. He wasn’t quite sure why this man would be doing this, the music didn’t change and his actions weren’t in tune with the lights that circled and jabbed the room constantly; maybe it was just for show.

The young man picked up a glow stick from the dead girl and examined it. Nice weight. Deadly sharp. Slightly wet from fresh blood. He grinned.

Throwing the glow stick at the man above the crowd, it caught him in the shoulder and he made a small cry of alarm as he fell to the ground out of sight. In his head, Tommy could hear the blade’s approval and laughter. This was exactly what the young half-specter needed.

A glow.

He darted his eyes in the direction of the glowing woman. She was dressed differently from the crazy dancing people and had a certain beauty. She emerged from a section of the crowd that seemed to be moving to allow her journey for her target to end. Tommy’s head titled slightly to the side as he eyed her body.

“Hey there!” He said with a wolfish smile. “Hope you’re ready to have some fun!” He wasn’t one hundred percent sure she had heard his greeting, but he really didn’t care. He drew his second dagger and rushed her, hoping to drive her back into the sea of deadly obstacles. The only strikes he made were shallow arm and lower abdomen points. He didn’t want this to end to quickly.

What good would all that running from zombies and guillotine dodging have been for if they didn’t even get through half of the songs on the list?

[Eyes of...]

To join the insanity of the rave or to remain aloof, the question danced through her mind, but was unanswered. She did not understand the strange music, or the odd motions that those within the room were performing. They seemed estranged and deranged, out of their minds with their body actions moving of their own volition. Would the music do the same to her if she decided to join the pulsing organism that compromised the entirety of the area?

It was still a battle, she was still within the Citadel, and she would not allow herself to become mindless like they were. Somewhere there was an opponent waiting, his or her body would be surrounded by the soft golden glow as the woman on the door had said. But to find the other would be difficult, especially if she joined the alluring group around her. And the woman had spoken a warning, cautioning her to be careful of her surroundings. The weapons that she saw at the people’s sides were the only thing she could picture as threatening, and to join them would be allowing them to surround her and attack her from any angle…

As her thoughts raged she let her different colored eyes flit from side to side. Any of them could be hiding his opponent; any of the dancing people could be her next assailant. The attack came from behind though. An arm wrapped around her neck, and a fist sailed into her lower back. For a split second panic embraced her, an in that split second thoughts of defeat before her opponent was ever shown screamed in her mind. But her battle sense quickly enveloped her frantic thoughts, stilled them. In that split second she twisted and ducked, removing her head from the person’s arm.

It was a man, his eyes blank, his hands empty, but his face obviously watching her movements. Before he could swing the balled fist that was cocked to his side she struck like a serpent at his stomach. The flattened hand doubled him over. His arms curled into his abdomen. Chizu rose quickly and slammed his bent head into her knee. The blow crushed the man’s forehead and sent him reeling backwards into the crowd.

Elation flooded her for half a second.

Oddly enough, she was not unlike those around her. She found that most of the crowd was dressed like her, a macabre sense of fashion complete with the deep black make-up that covered her face. It was a dark room, despite the flashing light and the purple hued light that made everything glow in a strange coloration. Chizu was surprised to find that she was not alone in the fishnet gloves, the deep black eye liner, or the risqué and revealing garb that allowed wandering eyes to see enough to need not guess what she would look like nude.

The glow flooded her vision as her true opponent shifted through the group of people before her. The man was a vision of perfection. His body was not too heavily set, his height much taller than her own, and his chosen dress just as dark as her own. If it had not been for the glow and the devious smile that painted his strange face, she would have been in love. But, as soon as his words were spoken the glow began to fade. She reminded herself that she was in the Citadel, not a night club in the Radasanthian Slums… this was not time to be smitten.

His mouth moved, but the words were drowned out like hers had been. She returned a sheepish smile, her hands rising as he drew a second dagger. Chizu was not a fighter that wielded weapons crafted by the hands of strangers. She would prefer to rely on her own strength, her own abilities. It was a product of the Aka-Wa fighting style, forcing her to put faith in her dexterity and senses, putting her faith in her hand and knee strikes.

The man rushed forward, his blades stretching for her gut and one of her arms. She would not be put down so easily though. In a flash she lunged forward, trusting that her movement would put him off guard. Defensive fighting was not her style, and with so many threats present around the two she would not allow herself to be wounded and left for the flock of dancers to destroy.

Shifting she put herself between the arms of the man. Chizu turned sideways and let the blade aimed at her stomach to pass by in front of her, and the second to pass behind her. In the same movement she held up her arm, bent back towards herself. Her elbow was aimed at the point just below his sternum, an attack meant to strike heavily into his stomach.

[Death's Nephew]

As his attacks were met with a quick advance, Tommy almost giggled with glee.

An opponent who attacked back rather than prance about dodging his strikes was a rare occurrence. He would certainly be cherishing every second of this wonderful battle. With no reaction time, his smile was cut into a frown as her elbow knocked the wind out of him. His chain mail shirt absorbed some of the blow, but it still connected and it still made him angry, but in a good way.

As he took a step back, sucking in hot, humid air, he noticed the music fade and the man he’d thrown a weapon at earlier switching the large discs. As he did so, a large, shiny headed bald guy lunged at him very suddenly. He dodged and bumped into a woman nearly naked, who’s eyes glared at him (although in a slightly dead way, so Tommy was guessing she was glaring) and she tried to bite his nose off when he turned to look at her. Quickly jerking his head out of the way, he rammed his plynt dagger up under her chin, left it there and dodged the man’s reckless tackle.

The music came back on, a new beat this time and the man above the rest said, “Hey hey! This is the Techno Remix of that badass movie, Mortal Kombat! Let’s see what ya got ladies! Dance baby! Yea I’m talking to you! Mmmm, dance!”

Suddenly, Tommy felt odd. The room was getting darker by the second, but the lights were still shining brightly. With a grim realization, he figured his sight was going away. With a futile effort, he activated his inherit night vision, but nothing happened. The even weirder thing was how he could smell everyone and everything in the room, from the sweet, alluring perfume of the woman who lay bleeding to death from his plynt knife to the sweaty armpits of the man rushing him again.

Shit!

Too late noticing that, he tried to dodge but was struck from behind, a bald head ramming into his lower back. He cried out and his own voice rang in his ears like drums. Everything was hurting his hearing; the music, the footsteps, the cheers of the crowd as they popped their hips, grinded into each other, and moaned with pleasure. His vision was dimming severely to that of looking underwater in a swamp when he felt the man’s movement for Tommy again. The way he felt it could be best described that he felt the direction, speed, and ultimate goal of this moving force. He felt it through his boots, his knees, and even through his hands. He rolled to the right quickly, narrowly missing a stomp on his white haired head. The vibrations that his back felt told the young fighter where to attack and he kicked hard at the man’s knee, snapping it sideways. He made a grunting noise as he fell to one side and Tommy lunged on him, plunging his steel dagger into his abdomen. It sank in smoothly, the feeling of warm blood gushing onto his fingers. He withdrew it and stabbed twice more, making sure the assailant was down for the count.

Around him the crowd danced ominously. Any one of them could attack him at any second.

Unable to truly see them, he could feel them and their presence. Taste their sweat and smell their adrenaline. The noise of the music drowned out anything that could be perceived as helpful, so as he did with his muddled sight, he tossed it in the “Useless Pile” of things he could work with.

Let’s go sweetie…where are you at now? Tommy thought as he heard his dagger chuckle grimly.

[Eyes of...]

Reckless though it was, the strike pushed her elbow into the man’s unprotected chest. Or so she thought at first. The sharp bone clashed with metal, steel rings took form around her outstretched elbow as it sunk in enough to knock the wind out of the man. It was a sickly thud, muted by the drumming bass and from the feel it could be easily ignored. The slick smile that had painted itself across his estranged visage faded immediately, and was replaced by a scowl that brought a smile to her face.

The smile lasted but moments, confusion overtaking her as suddenly as the stunted pride in her attack faded. A man with a shaved head, black paint streaking his face, dripping like black tears from his half closed eyes, started towards her opponent. A second denizen of the illusion attacked even quicker, tried to take the handsome man’s face off with her teeth, but had her mouth shut just as quickly with a dagger through her jaw. Chizu felt wrong, as if she wanted to assist the man in fending off his new sudden opponent. The dancer was not a real person, or so she assumed, not the one that had ventured to the Citadel to fight. He was a part of the monk’s illusion, and wasting her precious time by engaging and distracting her opponent.

Before she could react, for or against the new threat, the music changed. For a moment it was silent, just the streaks of light twitching against the backdrop of the sea of people, smoke drifting chaotically through the crowd. The Akashima native looked from her opponent to the man with the wide black disks, his eyes on her less than prude clothing, speaking louder than the music ever was. She blushed, but ignored the sudden flood of blood to her face, turning towards the other.

Chizu was granted a parting look at the man before the crowd and strange lights faded to a monotone hue of gray and black, and finally just a sheet of darkness. Her hands waved frantically before her face, but she could not see them. She could feel the light gust picked up by the movement, it made her skin tingle and raised bumps along her arms and back. She was more sensitive than she had ever felt before. With the new sensation came the stench of body odor, the heavy air that came in thick rasps, the boom of the music. Everything was heightened, stronger, more dominant, but her vision was gone.

“Fuck it all to hell,” she swore as she listened, attempting to depend on every sense besides the one that she had taken for granted for so long. The sounds of struggle, of a person crashing to the floor, they echoed in her ear. So did the hiss of another person, the sound of a hand scraping across rough clothing. An attack, but on her or not? She could not tell, but he let her head turn to the noise, listen for the movement, the grunts and groans of dancers being shoved aside. They all came to her, but at once.

The sickening sound of metal shoving through blood, over and over caught her attention at her flank. She did not move, did not make a sound besides the steady inhale and exhale of her breath. All her concentration was pushed to her ears, the only sense worth using since the entire area smelt of unwashed and pulsating people. It even violated her taste. But the senses were uncommon, her sight had always been the dominant sense, and due to her lack of sight she was caught off guard by a heavy hand to the inside of her ribs.

The fist felt like steel, or a hand shod in steel like the hoof of a horse. She spun just after the damage had been inflicted, slapped the hand aside and struck out. The tips of her fingers brushed the outside of a persons sweating neck. They made a disgruntled noise as the shallow touch offered them the sensation of being lightheaded. It would last for no longer than a second, at the very most, her powers were not enough to make the sensation last for a long time even if the strike had been true. Instinctively she grasped the inside of the hand still extended, twisted her body, and let the feminine like body be tossed towards where she had last heard the gushing of blood and the death rattle of a spectator.