Organization XIV - The Story So Far

Shit. Um, uh...! "Well, if we get an audience with Zeus, we could ask him to give you more vacation time. Y'know, if that's a thing that can happen afterwards." Gestalt ad-libbed as hard as he could. "We're gonna win this whole tournament for you, and we don't need any help to do it, either. Don't you wanna brag to everyone about this later? Tell big ol' Ares that your team whupped his without breaking a sweat? Take home a trophy for the mantlepiece?"

Holy crap, what can I offer a GOD!? Why didn't we just go with someone who showed interest in sponsoring us to begin with!? What if he refuses!?

Hermes chuckled quite openly at the man's nervous display. "A vacation? And how'd I get there, eh? Taking my own work with me? Ah, but you've got an idea, bragging rights in itself is a reward. I think that's satisfactory, honestly, I don't think there's anything else that needs proper discussion, I'll be honest." He stroked his chin for a moment. "Given the breadth of what I'm capable of, would the gift of free movement suffice? Not quite as flight, but to move unfettered by gravity or inertia! Like me!" Hermes said, demonstrating another twirl before making a motion as though he were ascending an invisible staircase. "I've also got a bag of tricks, you know, and I'm also known as a thief's best friend, so to speak. If you would have me, name your own boons!"

"Free movement? Free of inertia...?" Gestalt wracked his brain. He calmed down fast, with the god's apparent willingness to go along and him presenting an interesting new option. "...Do we get to keep it? Because that sounds incredibly handy in a lot of ways, but I feel like a tourney is a strange place to apply it. Dispatch, you can apparently fly, right? Do you already have this power? Or are you just able to compensate somehow for the forces that would overwise keep you earthbound?"

He looked from his teammate to Hermes. "And, well, for that matter, is this on top of your assistance with navigation? Because ultimately, that one might be more important. All the free movement in the world won't help us if we can't figure out where to go."

Geez, this kid moves at a hundred miles an hour... Dispatch rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, yeah, I can fly. Honestly, I'm more surprised you guys can't, if you can make those weird portals and shoot lightning out of your hands. I mean, flying is one of the first things you learn how to do with your ki."

He neglected to say any more when the topic turned to navigation. Seeing as his map joke had been taken seriously, having any amount of knowledge of where anything was would be a godsend...wait. Godsend? Maybe the idea wasn't a lost cause after all. Of course, he hadn't heard anything from any of the gods he knew since Vegeta fell apart, but still, he'd figure something out. Eventually.

"I suppose beating around the bush in a sense would help, huh? Direct, and all that," Hermes stated, though not in a rude manner. "Yes, you'd keep it, IF you won. Any boon you request beyond that is to be given once you present your own offerings AND upon the condition of victory. No win, no offerings, and no more flight for you. That's it, in a nutshell," he concluded, spreading his hands wide. "The offerings are what you feel would be suitable to me, a god. Offerings aren't always literal, there's the ideal, the act of sacrifice. I'm a god! Beyond directly interacting with the mortal realm, as-is, I can do... whatever! So relax, kids.

"Flight is on the table for those that don't have it. Anything else is the winning team's boon. Capiche?"

"Comprende." Said Gestalt. Guess I'll have to see what's for sale around here, because I didn't bring anything worth offering with me. Maybe I can ask around while I'm at it. "Then we'll just have to make sure to win. Are we all okay with these two boons? Free movement and a travel guide?"

With that step out of the way, he looked a little less stressed. They had goals to focus on. Now, as long as there was time before the event to buy something, he could probably handle the offering himself, and while their opposition was probably concerning, not only would they have a new power to use, Dispatch was probably strong enough to carry them through the matches. And if he could just get used to this new form of movement, it would probably enable all sorts of moves he wouldn't have even considered possible before, not to mention increasing his speed. And with higher speed, he could put out more force. It might be the edge needed to go past his current limits.

Dispatch waved a hand, somewhat dismissively. "Nah, I really only drink coffee with my, uhhh..."

Wait. Wait, no, that was cappuccino. That...wasn't what the little god said. Dispatch wondered for just a moment what word he had been about to use. Somehow, "student" didn't seem like it would fit in that space. ...Nope! Nope, this was a bad time to think about that!

"I mean yeah, those two things'll be fine, sounds great, I'm gonna go check out the competition see you guys in a few!" Dispatch bounded into the air, jumping clean over the heads of most of the people gathered at the gates, and ducked into the vestibule, and pinned himself to the wall on the other side of the door, releasing his breath.

Hermes nodded at those that remained. "Meet with me before the start of The Game's, tomorrow. I'll give you a rundown of what you should expect, and bestow the preliminary boons. You're forbidden from direct contests with the other contestants, but feel free to mingle and mutz about." Hermes waved them off before twisting in place and darting upwards, beyond the clouds, towards a distant mountain peak.

Kandor, for his part, laced his fingers together before stretching in front of him, palms outward, letting out a heavy sigh. "Th-that w-went pretty w-well, I thi... think. I am un... uncertain as t-to how long we h-have before n-night... W-we should proc... procure lodgings, sho... sh-should we n-not?" Letting the stretch go, he looked pensive for a moment before addressing Jackie and Gestalt. "I had men... mentioned magic to y-you two on the w-way here. I wo-would be happy to t-teach some of... of what I kn-know, b-but... p-perhaps y-you t-two would like to save.... um, y-your energy?"

Jackie mused for a moment. "If I can learn the methodology, that's not a problem, but if I save my magical energies, I should possess additional stamina for the following day, and I imagine that these may turn out to be a drawn-out affair. Twelve teams in competition, even at the most generous, would still require some several days, depending on the contest. Gestalt?"

Gestalt stepped forward, oddly confident in himself. "I have and errand to run, but it can wait. Besides, this magic of yours reminds me of something. It might not be too hard for me to grasp."

Crossing his arms, he looked around for something to use as an example, but couldn't come up with anything in their surroundings that was similar to his world's machines in form, function, or nature. He shook his head a little before offering another point. "...I, um, haven't ever tried casting spells before, so... I don't actually know about the energies used for it. I'm not sure how much I even have, or how it's channeled. But I'm willing to learn. You get some rest, Jackie; you're both right about saving stamina, but it'll do me more good to gain some kind of edge than to conserve energy. But, well, first... where's the hotel district? Or guest inns? Champions' quarters, whatever they call the place where we can sleep?"


This would lead to a mildly-stressful misadventure as they asked and searched around to find our where they could find beds. On the bright side, the currency Jackie had used in Traverse Town seemed to be valid here - which was strange, but convenient. Dealing with currency conversions for every world would be an endless nightmare. Before too long, they found a room with four beds, designated for fighters. It was less than ideal, true, but between the contestants and guests, places were filling up fast. At least the beds were pretty comfy. From a nearby window, their room had a view of the endless sea of clouds, along with a golden stairway connecting the shining metropolis in the distance to the obscured world below. But all of that was rather far from their quarters and the coliseum.

"Okay. And with the room under all four names, Dispatch will be able to find us if he asks. Still, maybe I should try and find him while I'm out. But first, I want to learn about magic."

Kandor, having closed the door behind them, hobbled over to one of the beds and sat down with an immense sigh of relief. The walking around had seemingly taken a toll on the mage, and his normally pale skin was slightly flushed. Despite this, he put his hood over his head, obscuring his face rather easily. "M-magic c-can take on ma...ny fo-forms, and underst-standing... what f-form, um, b-best suits you is m-much... much like f-finding an outfit th-... uh, that you like best, or... or t-training with a particular wea-weapon." Kandor held out a hand, and after a moment, produced a small ball of flame that greedily licked at the air above. "F-For me, an association of f-fire... a 'blaze', if you will, is how I mani... manif-fest my p-p-powers." He dismissed the flame by covering it with his other hand, and pressing both hands together: quashing it. "I'd said be... before that I 'p-push and... er, pull heat, th-though that's not ent... entirely correct. For m-my ma... magic to w-work, it operates under certain ass... ass-assumptions, and these ass...umptions are how o-one casts spells. This, um, i-is the pr-process of f-finding your 'suit', and how to w-wear it. It... er, well, it uh, it depends on your body, and yo...your w-world, but beyond that, you may f-find yourself adept at mul... multiple types and kinds of spell."

Smiling, he adds, "Di-... uhm, did you get a-all of that? Even f-for the introduction, I may... uh, um, I may have spoken a b-bit long in the tooth."

Sitting on his own bed cross-legged, Gestalt's face scrunched up as he thought about it. "...So, magic is very personal, is what you're saying? Not just anyone can learn any spell?" Nodding in comprehension, he looked back at his impromptu teacher. "But how do you figure out what you're good at?"

"Th-that's up t-to you, I am af-afraid," though Kandor said it through a soft wheeze of a laugh. "I c-can give you a s...sort of short--... shortcut, but, uh... all in all it r-requires either a j-jump...jumpstart, or s-some meditation. Dep... depending on your world, it may t-take de-... decades b-before you can so much as l-... uh, um, light a s-spark. That sp-sp-sp...ark might take s-so much energy it... uh, well, um, th-that it... k-kills you. On the other... h-hand, you could be s-so gifted you could crumble m-mountains or wo-... worlds by simply existing, by r-relaxing enough to l-le-... let your power spill out that m-much."  Kandor ponders for a moment, silent in thought. "We could g... go through some b-basics to see if you have a gift f-for magic, or some... some, uh, other similarly latent power. To... to, um, that end though... I w-would need to know what your homeworld w-was like, and wh-...what your life w-was like until now. It's... ve...ry personal, I understand, but a necessary s-... st-step for now."

Taking a deep breath, the young man ran a hand through his hair. He'd worried that this might happen. "Talking about myself isn't really my strong suit, but if it's necessary, I will."

Leaning back a little, bracing his upper body with an arm, he went over what he wanted to say here. "My home was a pretty quiet place. A sleepy town built on a hill. There was a solid public transit system - a bunch of railed trams that ran throughout the town, with grand train station connecting the town to faraway locales. My life there was... entirely unremarkable. At times, I feel like that life never even happened. Like I wasn't even in control of myself."

Grimacing, he continued, a little more hesitant. "...I didn't have many friends. The neighborhood kids weren't in any hurry to talk to me; only one who'd give me the time of day was a family friend. ...I always looked up to her. She was... strong. In ways I never was. We'd laugh about stupid stuff together, get into trouble, eat junk food atop scenic vistas... normal stuff like that."

He noticed that his breathing had become a little shaky. "I don't know how to explain it, but one day, I just woke up. I'm not sure what happened, but I just stopped caring about everything around me. The world faded to gray, everything that was once warm became cold. It was... empty. Life. That place. There was no point in staying. But I gained something, in the absence of joy: a choice. It was like I could think clearly for the first time. So I chose to leave and never look back, look for a new meaning in my life. ...I... haven't found it yet."

The one who called himself Gestalt sat in silence after that for a moment. It had been over a year since he'd given this so much thought. "...I should tell you one more thing. I had a name then; I was Aleri Verde, in that life. I gave myself a new name out of convenience, and to distance my 'selves'."

Kandor lowered his hood, and his eyes began to light up as he spoke of his home, his friend, and his eventual change. It was as though he drank in every word, holding onto them to the last. Gathering his composure after Gestalt stopped, he put a hand to his chin, politely cleared his throat and smiled back at the man. "It... it s-seems yo... your o-origin, as it w-were, does have m-ma...magical po... tential. A... well, um, a birthplace su-surrounded in my-m...mystery and quiet, a ch-childhood fr-friend, an awakening, a... um, a death, even, and, v-very importantly, only you, as of right now, know y-y-your, er true... true name. A-All important aspects for s-someone discovering the gift of ma...magic, and it's all thanks to your sto...ry so far."

"Wait, really?" Gestalt immediately straightened up. "For a minute there, I was dead certain I was devoid of any potential. It's good to hear that I might actually be able to wield magic."

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was the most he'd spoken about himself... probably ever. He hadn't told his allies about himself. But, then, he'd only known them a little while. Perhaps it was unusual to give one's life story to people so early; he had, after all, very little experience with making friends.

"Wh-who kn-knows, b-but... but th-the p-point is y-you h...have that cl...arity!" Moreso than usual, Kandor was becoming quite animated, adding hand gestures to how he spoke. "On... to-top of ev...erything else, y-you have come into an aw...awaken...ing. If y-you ha...ve th-that, I c-can s-search for an e-energy p-point with...in y-... you. We c-can me... meditate o-on it, o-or I c-...ould syn....the-- synthesize, um, an item o-or device t-to a-aid in the pr...ocess."

Considering this for a moment, he shook his head slowly. "...These things shouldn't be rushed. As much as I want to gain this power right now, I feel like it'd be a mistake. Besides," Gestalt pointed to Kandor, leaning forward a bit. "...Wouldn't it take up energy you might need tomorrow? It'd be best for you to save your power for the matches."

Kandor's grin widened a little. "R-remem...ber the a-assum...ptions I m-mentioned earlier? W-well, um, the c-cool p-part i-is: I d-don't re.... require any en... energy o-of m-my own. I was bl-blessed in th-that r-regard. I ha... have to co-com...pen...sate in other w-ways, um, but the pre-premise of my p-power is th...at I m-must 'ab...abstract' what I 'push', 'pull', or 'm-manifest'. Th-these are h-how I v-visualize th-the spell, ex...plaining th-the... uh, th-the whole process... w-would take t-too long." Kandor ran a hand through his hair. "Sh-shall we a-at le...least explore m-more of the th-theory behind it?"

Kandor nodded. "Fr-from the worlds and ma-magicians I've, I've, uh, s-seen... um, and en-encountered, there's a f-few principles that remain the s-same. F-Firstly, wh-whether or not the spell has a f-focus, com... components, or energy c-cost. Th-There's usually some k-kind of origin associ-... associated with these. I kn-knew a sorcerer once who used com-... components th-that were associated with wh-whatever... uh, whatever they were attempting to cast. A... wh, uhm, a piece of clear glass f-for invisibility, some bat guano f-for a large explosive, a leech f-for a spell to drain life and add to his own. F-For me, my source is a construct, yet also fr...from within me. It's moreso almost closer to a domain I have control over."

"So... I should find an object that falls into my 'suit', and see if I can channel magic into it?" Gestalt asked, head bobbing side to side a little as he contemplated it. He didn't even know how to perceive magical energy, so how would he direct it? How would he even know if he were?

"Yes, though do keep in mind, that you yourself can be that object. Seemingly, such magic tends to flow more naturally, as it becomes an extension of yourself."

"How do I even do any of this, though? I'm a complete beginner. Closest I've ever been to magic was close-up card tricks."

After another thoughtful pause, he spoke up again. "...Can you tell me what's going on when I do this?" The swordsman requested, holding his hands out in front of himself, palms facing each other. "I want to know if it's related to magic." With a little concentration, he was able to create a small portal of darkness between his hands, the other end opening up on the floor between them.

Kandor's eyebrows jumped, his jaw falling and his pale skin washed away of any light upon it. Quickly speaking the word that summoned his Scouter, he pointed the device at it as it spilled line upon line of minute, detailed info onto the small screen. After nearly a minute, the device beeped twice and Kandor chuckled to himself. "Brilliant! Utterly brilliant! That is, genuinely, a bona fide transportation portal! Not magical or arcane in the least, incidentally, but the spark exists within, intrinsically tied to you!" By the end of his little speech, the skinny man was standing with no evidence of his prior meekness or weak physique, and gone was any supposed trace of his stutter.

This did not go unnoticed by Gestalt, but he chose not to comment on it. "...I've been able to make gates like these, large enough to fit people through. It's not instantaneous movement, since you still have to travel a distance before coming out the other end, but we recently learned that time moves differently within these dark spaces. It moves more slowly within; spending an hour in there might only cause about ten minutes to pass in real-space. I think. I forgot what we estimated the ratio to be."

Sheepishly smiling, he stared into the dark portal, then looked back to Kandor. "So it's not magical... but it proves that I can learn? That's encouraging. And if it's tied to me, then I don't need to find an object, a focus. I just need to..." Meditate, perhaps?

There was little chance the other man hadn't noticed, but at this point, there was a lot of confidentiality between the two men. One had brazenly shown powers likely not tied to the mortal realm, and the other had more or less let the guise under which they were portraying themselves slip. Kandor slipped the guise back on, as easy as a glove, and sat back down with a 'fwump'. "W-Well, admittedly, th-this is... not q-quite the s-same... um, I'd w-wager. But it's a s-similar prin...principle, at the very least."

Gestalt's hands closed on the opening of the corridor, shutting it away. The other end vanished into black wisps. "...I'm asking too much of you. It shouldn't be your responsibility to teach me magic from the ground up."

Kandors eyes became wistful, and the tone he took made him sound... Old. Like he'd seen more than he should have in his time. "It's the responsibility of a leader to bring out the best in those around them, and to concede when their appointed time is up, or when they're no longer fit. We'll have time over the course of the tournament to let you flourish."

Nodding slowly, Gestalt uncrossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap. "...Thanks. I owe you a lot."

Was it always this easy to make friends? Maybe I was just being stupid all along.

"Okay! So, if I'm the focus of my own magic, then do I just meditate on myself?" He asked. In his head, it was all very vague, but it made sense. A lot of what he learned, now, was that there were all different kinds of magic, and it's a very personal thing, varying greatly for different people. So a lot of it would have to be self-discovery. Not his strongest suit, but he was willing to try.

"Ess...entially. I h-hear fa-falling into a v-vat of tox...toxic wa-waste helps some... Um, sometimes, or being on the br-brink of d-death, but I don't think we have th-those on hand."

"Heh. Hehe." The young man quietly chuckled. "Was that a joke? Well, I'll be in a lot of peril from here on out, so I'll have plenty of chances to develop it in adversity."

"I p-picked up a, uhm, bad habit of be...ing m-more open with my sar-...sarcasm. One of m-my old gr...oup w-was a real ass at times, and a f-foul mouthed ho...hothead, but he g-got the j-job done and knew... um, he kn-knew wh-what needed to be done, even when we used to bicker."

"Sounds a little like Dispatch." He quipped back. "I get the funny feeling I'm gonna have to get real acquainted with sarcasm..."

Noticing that the room had grown a bit dimmer, Gestalt looked out the window. The sun was setting outside, casting golden rays over the beautiful columns, detailed frescoes, and rippling clouds outside.Hm. I still need to find a market before they all close... Turning back to Kandor, he held back on the question he really wanted to ask. "Can you tell me how the magic you just used works? You said you 'synthesize' these things. You're not pulling them from somewhere, you're making them on the spot. How?"

Kandor reached into his robe sleeve and pulled, seemingly from thin air, a rectangular object with cards slotted into one side. "Not ma-magic, th-though it's just as arcane and some...times just as fru-frustrating. Th-This... Um, it's a syllad-dex. Ess...essentially it's a repo...sitory ham...hammer space for those wh-who existed in my w-world." Giving it to Gestalt to hold, he continued, "Essent...ially, each op-operates on s-spoken w-words, some com-... um, complex, some sim-simple, all of them r-relatively incon...inconvenient. In th-these cards, however, lie my s-synthesis tools. I can take v-various ob...jects or m-m-materials and convert them in a w-workshop style environment." Kandor finished with a flourish of his hands.

"Huh? I thought you... well, I guess you never said it was magic. We did kind of press you about it afterwards." Hopping off the bed and stepping closer to get a better look at the strange object, Gestalt didn't really know what to make of it. If anything, it looked like a filing cabinet, or maybe- "...Hey, this is a bit of a long shot, but, have you ever used a computer? I grew up with them, but a lot of the worlds I've seen don't have them. Your sylladex just reminds me of them a lot."

Staring at it a little more, it filled him with equal parts nostalgia and an unfamiliar dread. That was probably nothing to worry about.

"Inci-incident...ally, y-yes. Th-That's al... um, alm-most exactly w-what it is, b-but in... uh, in particular th-they each op--...operate on a s-specific com...computer function or pr-process. M-Mine op-operates under f-folder struc...structure, and gr-grabbing anything from t-too high up w-will dump ev-everything associ...ated in th-that f-folder and every f-folder ben-beneath it. So... um, so well, par-...paradoxically, I have to p-put commonly used items deeper, which creates a longer phrase."

Nodding, Gestalt barely understood a word of that. He made a mental note to look up basic computer functions later. His experience was limited to basic user knowledge. "Well, thanks for talking with me. I won't be able to figure out my magic before the battles begin, but it'll be a big help in the future, I know it. And besides, I can improvise something if I need to." Wisps of black, smoke-like substance whirled around his hand before vanishing.

Starting for the door, Gestalt nodded. "Anyway, I gotta run. See you when I get back."

As Dispatch took stock of his surroundings, it looked like a clean waiting and trophy room. There were several shorter pillars that looked like an approximation of a desk, along with long, white marble benches and various medals, trophies, and carvings from what seemed like humongous beasts lined up across all of the walls. They bore names like 'Hercules', 'Asclepius', 'Leonidas', 'Caligula', 'Achilles', and more. There were a few others who seemed like off-worlders in here as well. One was a cloaked figure in black, seemingly large despite their hunched figure. Another was a group of three dressed in what appeared to be matching uniforms, a short male with hair over his eyes, a taller male with long, dextrous fingers and several piercings, and a woman covered in paint and with an air of cheerful serenity about her. There was a group of six, who seemed to be people of various races clad in armor, sharing a meal around one of the tables set to the side. There were messengers constantly coming and going, some setting parchment upon the various tables, others relaying messages to the people within.

Dispatch didn't pay them too much heed, though his gaze lingered on the armored group for a few moments longer. It wouldn't do much good to just hang around like this, especially since he'd just bailed on his own group. Might as well do some recon in the arena, maybe see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone sparring or training for the games. Now the only question was...where exactly was the arena from here...?

Dispatch could see down a long hallway across from the entrance a light. It looked like it lead to an open area, as he could see the light from the sky hitting whatever floor was there. From it's narrow exit, he could also make out a set of steps leading up to a raised platform.

Well, that certainly looked like most of the arenas he'd seen. Not that there'd been more than maybe three or so, but still, this was one more set up the same way. He headed toward the doorway, relaxed and yet still on his guard. Just in case.

As Dispatch came out into the arena, the size and spectacle of it all was definitely an indulgence of the gods. The sheer size of the platform alone was immense, at 200 feet square, with even finer stonework and pure white stone, with twelve repeating emblems etched into the side of it. The stands encircled the arena, on all four sides, with enough seating for the tens, possibly hundreds, of thousands. Beyond even the arena was a roped-off area for a race track around another circular section of the Coliseum, with it's own seating arrangements. In the middle of it all, there was various sporting implements and pieces of equipment, with spots for shot put, vaulting, and other activities.

Dispatch looked around, nodding in satisfaction. It may have been set up like any other arena, but it was definitely the biggest, nicest, and...probably the cleanest, too. The racetrack was an interesting touch. He wondered what was really the point of throwing a big steel ball when you could just fight, but that was probably a human thing. They always did seem to find ways to make themselves look stronger than they were. But with all this equipment here, it was a surprise not to see anyone using it at all. He gave the area another quick scan before pausing to see if he could sense any ki.

There were, in fact, three distinct energies Dispatch could sense. One was prickly and couldn't sit still, but was travelling around the race track at a steady speed. The person it belonged to wore no shirt, only sweatpants, and was adorned otherwise by nothing but a long rait tail on the back of his head and an encompassing, intricate tattoo that travelled from his left hip all the way up to his scalp and covering under and over his arm, too. The second energy, this one wispy and ephemeral, belonged to a skybound observer, who quietly watched the runner from above. They were adorned similarly to the hulking slouched figure in the Vestibule Lobby, this time in a red cloak with shoulder pads. Lastly, there was a lone swordsman on the platform above, holding a sword in front of him. His sword was coated in fire, then frost, then lightning, and so on, a tempest of elements to match his own swirling ki.

Dispatch considered who he should approach first. The shirtless man made him almost nostalgic, reminding him of a certain someone back home who wasn't the brightest light in the sky. He considered trading ideas with the swordsman, but his energy seemed a little too volatile. Inconsistent. Definitely worth watching, but talking to him maybe not so much. But the one that caught his attention the most was the one hovering over the racetrack. Based on his companions, flight didn't seem to be as common a power in this part of the universe, and he seemed...distant. It was weird.

Dispatch took to the air, and floated toward the man in the sky, holding up a hand in greeting. "Hey, there. What's goin' on out here?"

Underneath the hood, Dispatch felt one singular raised brow.  His hood obscured his face, but something about the way the man spoke belied it. The man seemed unperturbed by Dispatch's flight capabilities, moreso that he seemed curious as to why him in particular. As he spoke, the man seemed to make each statement declarative, and each was acutely broken at every pause, as though a jigsaw put together. "Well, damn. I didn't expect to have company all of a fuckin' sudden, but here we are. Currently, I'm meditating. Observing those that would showcase who and what the fuck they are. Information.... is key, right?"

Something about that last sentence... was he hiding something?

Dispatch smirked a bit. Meditating? Pottymouth was doin' a real good job of that. "Observing, huh? Pretty much the same as me, then. I take it you're not with these other guys either?"

The man rolled his eyes hard enough he physically moved his head to do so. "Fuck, I almost wish. They're nearly normal compared to the crazy fuckin' whacko shit I had to put up with in my own group." The man paused, before continuing, his tone... different. "But I'm fighting for them, just the same. And I trust you will be fighting, too? For your group? Or for yourself?"

Dispatch didn't show his surprise. If Pottymouth was really with Seizure Sword and Headless Chicken, then what information was he looking for? "Well, a little of both, really. Plus a paycheck, for all that's worth. I don't really know 'em too well, but they're tough and we're on the same side, so no point lettin' 'em rot, right?"

Pottymouth didn't physically react this time, though he did pause a moment before speaking. "Letting others decide what you want to do is probably the shittiest idea I've ever fuckin' heard. If you're not doing it for you, why the fuck would you even go through with it?" He put a hand up, presumably to cut Dispatch off. "I'm not going to shit on you and your life, you've got your own shit to take care of, fuckin', who am I? I got caught up in a fuckin' dead world and se.... some other shit. But if some other me came up to me and said they were doing something for someone else and not for them? I'd duel them to the death, period." He turned away to look at the man switching through the elements on his sword. "'course, I still ain't got room to talk."

For someone with such transient energy, this guy seemed like a total nutcase. And the way he trailed off, he was hiding something for sure, but Dispatch wasn't convinced he cared what it was. In fact, since it didn't seem related to the fight, he was pretty sure he didn't. Still, it seemed like Little Red Crazy Hood here was in pretty much the same boat as he was. But since Dispatch had ended up with the others by total chance, that really begged the question, "Alright then, my turn. Who are these guys to you, then?"

He opened with a clarification: "These two down here? Or the two that survived with me?"

"Your group. Y'know, the one you said you're fighting for." There was a very slight edge to his words, just to emphasize the hooded man's blatant self-contradiction.

"One's something of a lost cause, and I say that as the person who fucked it up for her. She's a brilliant, unmatched fighter, and her moniker holds up, but... I failed her early in life, and that's why she is the way she is. That one's my fuckup. The other is my girlfriend, who was the only one who saw everything coming. She's just as fucking whack, but in her own way. And I love her for it."

Girlfriend? This guy could hold onto a girlfriend? She must have been as crazy as he said. As for the other one...well, no one would be here if they DIDN'T think they were unmatched, so Dispatch took that with a grain of salt. "Uh-huh. So, what brings you to a tournament like this, then? Hoping to have your sponsor god bring your world back or something?"

"The world doesn't matter so much if I can't bring my friends with. We grabbed the last thing we would need for a real reset before we had to bail, but we went with a sponsor that could help us get everyone back together." He chuckled once, a dark, bitter laugh. "As messed up as we all are, I fuckin' miss 'em all. And it's my job as their Leader to get the gang back together, put the band back on the road, all that happy shit, y'know?"

Hold on. They could "reset" their home? "What do you mean, a 'real reset?' You already have a way to get your planet back?" Maybe this had something to do with that Keyblade Leatherboy had mentioned.

"Incidentally, yes, but it's more or less localized to our group and how we lost our world. I heard some sad bastards imply some kind of dark shit killed their worlds. We had two guys for the job but they've fucked off to who knows where."

Sad bastards, huh? That meant this guy didn't know anything about Heartless. Still, his story sounded pretty familiar outside of that. "Two people took your world out? Yikes. Can't say I know that feeling. Then again, I can't say I don't, either...but listen, good luck gettin' your friends back together. Seriously."

"Hm?" The genuine words seemed to take the man aback, even for just a moment. After a while, he pulled his hood back to reveal a deeply freckled face, sunglasses, and a shock of crimson red hair pulled back and styled into a warrior's ponytail. From behind his glasses, he had eyes just as red as his hair and coat. "Well, thanks." He paused for a moment. "Naw, the person who destroyed our world was a one-man job. Those two just would been able to fight off that dark shit."

Dispatch's tail twitched, then tensed. A one-man show was somehow more believable than two. If by 'somehow' you meant 'easily.' "I hear ya. There was one guy who could've rallied everyone together, one of the toughest you'd find in the universe. At the time. But he came in warning everyone and they all laughed at him. Dunno how many of us actually got away." Dispatch shrugged. "But anyway, that's enough of that. You seen much of the competition? How's it look?"

"I'll keep how I think my team will do to myself. And same token, I don't know what shit your squad can get up to, but the ones I'd be most cautious of are those dudes in uniforms and that squad of knights. Everyone else either has some ass drawback or I expect little of their performances. Course, the fuckin powers that be may throw wrenches into everything so that's always a factor." He then pointed to the two below him. "Sword guy here could also be a threat. He's got magic and his sword is blinding fast. The speed alone could break my own in a single hit. The other guy... I'm not sure. I lose track of him every now and then. Maybe time stop or warping."

Dispatch gave quick glances to Headless Chicken and Seizure Sword. They didn't really look like too much right now, but they also didn't have a reason to try all that hard yet. He definitely hadn't considered the gods messing with the rules, though. He'd kinda figured the boons were their way of doing that.

"Thanks for the tip," he said. "I'll keep my eye out. Hope to see ya in the ring." With a quick salute, he turned his back and made to leave.

Red Guy 'stood' in the air, smiling at Dispatch. "By the by, not sure I introduced myself. Friends call me Finn, but you can call me O'Leary. I look forward to our eventual match." He offered a firm handshake to Dispatch.

Dispatch turned back around, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm ah, not the best with names. But since you offered, mine's Dispatch." He took the red-haired man's handshake with a friendly, but competitive smirk, and flew off for real this time. Now the only problem would be...finding the rest of his own allies. They'd hardly stayed at the gates.

During his sprint past the coliseum gates, Gestalt spotted a familiar figure in the sky. Isn't that...?


He ran up to a nearby wall, leapt and kicked off of it, lighting on the raised shield of a nearby statue, propelling himself onto the wall. Glancing up to confirm that Dispatch hadn't zoomed off in the time he'd taken, the swordsman dashed across the stone, leaping from building to building in pursuit of the wiry fighter. Finally, when he felt like he'd gained enough ground, he slid to a stop, cupping his hands to his mouth, and took a giant breath.

"HEY, DISPAAAATCH!"

Dispatch turned toward the sound of his name, spotting...ah, what was it? Jesse? Sure, close enough. He nearly sighed with relief. Finding the others with no hint on where to start could have taken all night. He hovered over toward his ally.

"Oh, hey, there you are," he said, touching down on the rooftop. "Thought I'd lost you guys for a minute. Got a little info on some of the competition, thought it might help. Where're the other two?"

Taking a second to catch his breath while Dispatch drew closer, Gestalt nodded. "Really? That's great. I didn't even think about scouting our potential opponents. Well, since the event starts tomorrow, we got a room. Everyone else turned in early to make sure they were in tip-top shape."

Glancing up at the vanishing sunlight, he looked back in the direction he'd come from, pointing to a large building with an open-air courtyard in the center. "We're in room Gamma-26, in that building over there. It's the one with the pair of chariot statues out front. I'd just show you, but I have to get to the markets before they close."

"A'right, sounds good," said Dispatch, giving a thumbs-up. "I'll fill you guys in when you get back, then."

With that, he leapt toward the building, opting to use the front door rather than burst in through any of the windows. "...Now what the hell's a Gamma?" With a shrug, he started to look around. If he took too long, he'd end up meeting Jesse on the way back in anyway.

Satisfied with this, the short swordsman swung over the edge of the roof, using one hand to slow his descent a little. As he resumed his sprint for the markets, he began to assess the layout of the area and figure out the best route to reach the stairs, when he came to a halt.

...Am I stupid or something? I can just make a gateway straight there.


Shaking his head at having forgotten his most ground-breaking ability, he opened a corridor and slipped through, the entrance closing and evaporating behind him.

Jackie was coming out of a small crowd that'd gathered in front of various stall vendors outside the hotel doors. Clutching mounds of good wrapped in parchment and set in small porcelain jars, covered in light cloth, she scanned the area around her. Anyone fancy any assistance? The barest possibility of transportation or levitation? Bother. She smirked to herself and shook her head. All was well. She'd simply have to get creative to get inside, and these people didn't seem entirely keen on doors. Stairs, though, that was another ma-- Oh! "Dispaaaatch! Salutationnnnnns!" she cried out, flopping her head side to side. Maybe he'd see her red hair. Red was a far-travelling and easily noticed color, after all.

Dispatch turned toward the sound of his name, and a familiar voice. He'd been about to open his fifth door, when he spotted a massive pile of...well, it looked like nonsense to him, a large stack of random odds and ends that completely obscured the woman carrying them. "Oh, hey!"

She was swaying pretty wildly, too, upon closer look. If she wasn't careful, she'd drop all that...whatever it was. So Dispatch took a few big strides in her direction. "What's with all the--actually, first, you want me to grab some of that?"

"Y-yeah, I bought us dinner tonight. Turns out they accept munny here, which... well, I didn't realize they would. Local currencies and all." She parted with some of the wraps and small jars. "I procured a lamb-meat wrapped in vegetables, spices, and a baked sort of bread, and yogurt made with fruit. If any of it's not to your liking though, I can run back out and grab something." Puffing once to move her bangs out of her eyes, she gestures with her head forward towards the stairs. "Up there, third floor, I believe. Second from the left." She let Dispatch lead the way, and added, "Anything interesting or important happen?"

Dispatch took them under his arms, and started to make his way up the stairs toward their room. He could smell right through the wrapping, this was gonna be a good feed. "Dunno. I met up with one of the other contestants, had a little chat. Sounded like it could be useful, but Jesse's gone out shopping too, so I figure we should wait for him to get back. And don't worry about the food, by the way. Me and my people can eat pretty much whatever you put in front of us."

Jackie nodded, gesturing for Dispatch to open the curtain into the room before them. "Beg pardon, but Jesse? I'm unaware of a 'Jesse' in our midst." She gave a little wave to Kandor in front of them, who looked up from a notebook he was scrawling into. Long, curving letters stretched across the pages, and he smiled at the two as they walked in.

"G-greetings, D-Dispatch, J-Jackie. Is that... D-dinner?" he asked, trying to subtly move the sleeve of his robe in front of his lips. "Smells... de-delicious."

"Yep! Something called gyros and yogurt."

"F-fascinating. I-inci...dentally, though... I'm n-not sure about this J-Jesse, either. W-what do they look like?"

...Crap. It wasn't Jesse? Then what was his name? "C'mon, y'know. The kid. We're only flyin' around with one other guy."

Hastily (but carefully), he spread out what he was carrying on the free space on the floor. "A-anyway! If we don't hurry up and eat, the stuff'll all get cold, and that'd be a waste!" He sat down cross-legged, removing his bracers and setting them gently to one side.

Jackie slow-turned to Dispatch as Kandor reached for a yogurt. "Gestalt? Ah, I think I see how you would mix that up. Ah well. Let's dig in!... but also, save one each for Gestalt, for when he returns. We'll get him some fresh tomorrow."

Kandor nodded. "I've g-got a good f-fee-feelling about th-this one. I'll t-turn in a little af...ter dinner, once I'm done wr-writing."

"Y-yeah, I knew that!" Dispatch protested, though unable to hide the slight color that rose to his face as he reached for a gyro. "I'm bad with names, alright? I just call people short-names oh god this is good." Without further input, he tucked ravenously into his dinner - though he was careful not to take quite as much as he'd have liked to.

The next morning came, and with it, a strange quiet. Many of the hotel residents spoke little, only breaking the silence to murmur short or brusque exchanges with those close to them. Eyes darted around in every head, many people sporadically checking over their shoulders or looking up from what they were doing, as if suddenly roused from sleep.

It was restless, and tension hung in the air.

Jackie was one of the first to rise, and began her morning by swiftly and quietly making her bed, before dropping to the floor to do situps and other exercises. That completed, she sat on the edge of her bed, sat cross legged with the soles of her feet touching, touched the palms of her hands together, right on top of left, and meditated. I await the coming day, she thought to herself. I am blessed by thunder, gifted of the mind, and sure of stature. Fear is unbecoming, the unknown my undoing. Falter not, press on. She continued this mantra until seven o' clock arrived, where Kandor pushed himself groggily out of bed. He looked over at Jackie, and they exchanged nods. Both of them quietly left the room to eat a hearty breakfast together: bacon, eggs, toast, and a hearty portion of lamb.

They awaited their companions before continuing on to the Coliseum.

And there, they found themselves surrounded by various warriors from various worlds once more, with the throng noticeably smaller this time. Twelve mutlicolored lights shone around the open area just inside the Coliseum Gates. The ethereal, opaque and cloudy form of each god shined brightly above each of their flames. Teams gradually dispersed to each of the lights, with their own team headed towards Hermes' verdant green light. 

After they had gathered, a horn sounded, and from the Vestibule itself strode two figures. The first was a short, squat man with horns and goat legs, and behind him strode a tall, muscular man with a shock of fiery orange-red hair, and carrying a scroll. As the two walked to the center, the taller one bent forward to hand the scroll to the satyr, who took it and cleared his throat. A pause, and then...

"Attention various Heroes! Welcome to da Olympus Games!" he cried out in a deep, gravelly and hoarse voice. "We are honored by da Twelve Olympian Gods on dis day," he began to read, "and we do hereby dub thee Attendees of this Olympic Games! Twelves teams ta compete wid each udder, in respects to nurturin' and celebratin' heroes and to inspire da youth and upcomin' heroes of a new day! Firstly, each of twelve teams will be partnered with one other team in competition with each other pair! Da top four pairs will compete in da Semi-finals and Finals! First prize is a boon by your patron God or Goddess..." he said, sneaking a peek towards Aphrodite, "and are subject to your terms wid said God or Goddess. Secondly, all innate talents are allowed, yet summonin' nor outside assistance, slash interference, ain't allowed! Finally, your partner team has been predecided, and will be announced in a moment!"

The taller man cleared his throat and spoke up, making an open armed gesture to all present contestants. "And I, Hercules, Son of Zeus, Son of Hera, will be referee and officiator of these Olympian Games! We are honored at your dedication, and without further ado...

"LET THE GAMES... BEGIN!"