Choose your destiny! Flawless victory! [Inevitable Tournament Arc]

[meat_mooks]

No sooner did the Obs Deck descend to Arena Planet LXIII, and the crew allowed to disembark, than they were met by a veritable cloud swarm of cameras. Sleek, elegant things that might have been living, might have been machines, maybe were even magical... but were definitely nuisances as the swooped around to capture video of the crew at all conceivable angles, close up and far away. Their every move from this point on would be on camera.

In front of a small crowd of retainers stood what appeared to be a great circular orb whose only distinguishing features were a nose, and what appeared to be the most overblown mustache ever, which actually appeared to be supporting that two-foot-diameter orb at shoulder height to a tall man. Then the orb took a couple of steps forward,revealing that no, those were actually just really, really hairy legs. A seam cracked open on the creature, and in a voice loud enough to echo across the broad open plains without any need for amplification, it bellowed, "AND NOW! STRAIGHT FROM THE TRANSMIGRATION NINE VESSEL! OUR NEWEST COMPETITORS! FRESH TO THE STAGE OF BATTLE, BUT NO STRANGERS TO WAR--"

It went on like this for some time.

Under cover of this introduction, a small man that to all appearances seemed to be the love child of Richard Nixon and a particularly aggressive Furby stepped forward, and in a bored businesslike tone recited, "Welcome to the tournament. There will be one battle per day. The arena in which you battle will be determined by random draw. Our medical crew will perform all healing necessary and ensure no deaths so feel free to not hold back. Please refrain from accepting any bribes or favors from on-planet spectators--"

"--ARE YOU READY?!" the orb bellowed even louder than before, completely swamping the smaller man's recitation. "THEN STEP THIS WAY!"

And so saying, the orb and its procession began a clearly well-choreographed procession towards a large, medieval-looking fortress that hung dramatically just on the edge of clear vision. (Conveniently, this procession passed several large advertisements.)

Comments

[hit_girl_mindy]

Hit Girl wanted to collapse and recline on the bed, but now was the time to conduct this with dignity. She had, after all, the ability to choose a strength or something, right?

"Those hand things are clumsy and wouldn't look good on me," she mused, "so I'm gonna go with opening up the floor and attacking stuff. That'll be useful in the next fight."

She would have kept the shield, but she had the barrier jacket and the force field spell. Hit Girl would make do with those.

[meat_mooks]

"Very well," the old man said brusquely. One hand still clutching his staff, he reached into the gelatinous form, rummaging around as if searching for something.

"A virus," he muttered. "You must pick a hand, then. It will be a carrier for the virus. I will contain it to that hand. I have that power."

[hit_girl_mindy]

Yay, gross.

"I'll go with the claws then," she said, although she didn't look super enthused about having a virus in her. They could get that out later, right?

[meat_mooks]

"It is all a virus," the old man snapped irritably. "That is what he is. One virus colony, that absorbs and reshapes biomass. If you wish to claim a power of his, you must take that virus into yourself. I will seal it so it does not spread further into you, but the part it takes will become like him."

[hit_girl_mindy]

Jeez, calm your ass, old guy. She got the point!

"All right," she said, taking a breath. "Hell, I've had viruses before, this one will just be different."

That's right Hit Girl. Downplay it as much as you can.

[meat_mooks]

"So which is it, then? The claws? The groundspike?" The old guy was not calmed, merely growing more irritable. Severe burns would do that to a man.

[hit_girl_mindy]

Hit Girl really liked the claws. They were fucking awesome and made her look cool. But she would choose practicality over appearance any day.

"Better go with the ground spike."

[meat_mooks]

"Choose your hand," the old man said, drawing from the prototype a small nugget of grey ooze.

[hit_girl_mindy]

She thought about this a moment. "The musclemass."

[meat_mooks]

"Left or right?" he said. His hand never left his staff, though he seemed clearly able to walk without it as he paced over to her.

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Right," Hit Girl said, supposing it did make a difference somehow. "What's up with the staff?"

[meat_mooks]

"Hold out your hand," he said, ignoring her question.

[hit_girl_mindy]

Whatever. So much for asking questions.

She held out her hand.

[meat_mooks]

He placed his hand atop hers -- no, that was incorrect. He placed his hand into hers, his fingers passing quite alarmingly into her flesh as if it was liquid. The old man spent a moment fidgeting within her, fingers swimming disturbingly through her wrist, before he released the nugget of power.

Abruptly, all sensation changed. Her hand exploded outwards into a writhing, seething mess of that same biomass that was her opponent, before settling back into a normal hand shape... but it wasn't a normal hand. It had no bones, flesh, sinew, skin. It was simply one big hunk of indeterminate tissue sitting on the end of her hand. Tissue that could be extended to plunge through the ground and burst upwards beneath a foe, if she so chose, but otherwise as functional as her hand had been.

[hit_girl_mindy]

This was creepy, no doubt. It was as if all of the comic book she read on transformation were coming here in the flesh, and now she had to have her own. It looked fucked up though, like something out of Witchblade minus the tits and ass.

But once she felt that cone of power, she gasped a little. For a moment she could actually SEE herself as an Overlord, proud and laughing over her enemies as they crumbled to dust before her. They had thought her a small little shit once, but what chance did they have when she sought strength that they thought came easy such a short time ago? Their cries of mercy dying on their lips as she...

Wait, wait. No. Temptation. It had forms, and it was here now. This was not her awakening, it was just her becoming Anakin for a little while minus the pussy shit. Or maybe that Peter Pettigrew guy minus the everything. Clear her head, gather her strength. There would be another match soon.

She flexed her hand, staring at it, then nodded. "Thank you."

[meat_mooks]

"Now to the healers, and then the day is yours," he muttered as he turned away... and at that Hit Girl vanished, to have her health restored, and then to celebrate in whichever manner she saw fit.

[hit_girl_mindy]

Sheesh. What a douche.

She knew exactly how she'd celebrate...where was Ruffnut? They were going to enjoy all this luxury shit and sleep in an actual comfortable bed.

In short, slumber party! With a fucked up hand!

....Yeah, woo hoo!...?