Organization XIV - The Story So Far

I like the way he thinks! Gestalt flashed a grin as they moved to intercept the crimson-haired berserker. It faltered slightly when he remembered how this guy had fought; even a graze or a successful parry would result in his very flesh rotting and falling away. "Jill, on guard!"

The moment they were within range, he thrust himself onto the rail, aiming a sharp jab for Arthur's right bicep. Someone with that much experience would be hard to take down, but with his focus on Kain, perhaps he could land a disabling blow. Perhaps it would be wiser to try and kill the man outright, but the swordsman had a feeling that his target wasn't so careless as to let a blade between his ribs just because he wanted another opponent's head.

Arthur became incensed in a way that left him without words, a primal fury coming over him, washing away any other thought in his mind. He turns and in a flash of bounding muscle and unbridled fury, he leaps at Kain, only to find Dispatch's chariot intercepting him along the way. Whereas his sword channeled his necrotic energy, his fists now absorbed the light around them and swirled with energy of decay. It was this raw, radiating power that seemed to swirl and deflect Gestalt's jab on its own, leaving his upper arm with a nick and a scratch, and Arthur unperturbed.

Jill blanched at first, but readily took the opportunity to deal with a threat up close and half-restrained in his movements. Though while she expected to struggle with the man for a moment, she did not expect her first strike to nearly bounce off the man's exposed hide. Stabbing directly into the sternum, her strike would have been true, but no purchase was made, and Arthur began climbing up into the chariot, lifting himself with one hand. Jill bristles, spear at the ready, and focuses her energy, before thrusting rapidly, but the strikes seem to glance straight off or leave shallow cuts at best.

Kain, seeing the situation, clucks his tongue once, before being assaulted with the same spirit energy Brahaam was throwing around in the exhibition match yesterday. Turning his attention, the orc on the back of the chariot was focus firing blasts of energy directly towards Kain, and they seemed to be cold-infused. Ah, trying to thwart my energy, eh? Admirable! But I wouldn't be this strong if I succumbed to such obvious weakness. I'll handle you later. Kain kept his attention on the blasts just enough to divert the rest of it to sending Jill and Gestalt as much energy as possible to ward off Arthur. If they got hit, it was game over, straight up, for either of them, unless he could funnel enough into them that it acted as a buffer.

Oh, shit. I should've aimed for his fingers instead... or perhaps the neck. Or maybe that would've happened no matter where I stabbed him! I didn't think I'd just bounce off... His face - and stomach - sank as he felt his pulse shoot up. He could barely feel the harsh sensation of the sword in his hand over the turmoil in his mind. The shock of throwing his strength against something, only for it to be completely stopped, it left a deep ache in his tiny body. I can't directly harm him, so what are my options?!

Quickly pulling himself out of his vulnerable position and backing the hell away from their new assailant, he watched Arthur's eyes and hands both. No doubt this behemoth could shatter the vessel beneath them if he wished, but that wouldn't help him reach his intended victim. He was either going to deal with the two of them first, or he would focus on Kain and ignore them entirely. The latter seemed unlikely, since they'd just attacked the dread fighter and now barred his way, but the depths of hatred in his eyes made Gestalt wonder.

Taking up another wide, stable stance, sword out, a bit closer to their opponent than Jill was, the swordsman prepared to gamble on what the titan of a man would do first. Well, the worst that could happen was that he'd die. Or be mutilated horribly and likely die after. Or that could happen to Jill. And death was actually favorable to losing this match, in some ways. While horrifying, it would be undone. He took a sharp breath.

Air rushing into his lungs, his blood carrying strength back into his strained muscles, Gestalt let go of all else, his focus squarely on Arthur's blazing eyes.

The good thing about being top of the line is that you're sought after, you're made desirable, people follow in your footsteps, and people imitate you in an attempt to find success. The leader in a race will have many people looking at their backs, and whether it inspires, rage, envy, or competitive drive, people will take notice of the one in front.

Unfortunately for our intrepid band of adventurer's, this also means a horrifying number of crosshairs pointed at them, as people did in fact start to take notice after the first quarter of the race came to completion. Buffets of wind laid as traps along the track by team Hera, bolts of lighting surging across the track as Team Athena struggled to stay out of last place. As Team Apollo laid ink golems behind them to body check Dispatch, Team Ares was beginning to pull ahead again, and gravity wells began to surge under the carts, slowing them down, even slightly. Gunfire and razor gales sang in unison as Artemis' three women charged forward from behind. Team Hades brooked no quarter, daggers flying over the non-combatants in the center, pelting towards Goeiz and Brahaam. Aphrodite's team of otherworldly beautiful heroes took especial note, their cleric gaining from behind, the sound of canine panting coming ever closer amongst the irregular thud of four limbs slamming the ground. Their mage intently focused on keeping Alle healthy and hastened, bluntly ignoring all the others. 

Leaving two teams who had been clashing on the outskirts of the track for the entirety of the race so far, and in a violent surge of motion and gore, Isis and Zero launched Peter, the sole rider, from his perch in his chariot. What landed couldn't very well be called a body, as the viscera was so scattered and so thoroughly broken down it could barely be called flesh and bone. Even as it struck the ground, it seemed to vaporize and melt into the track itself, a grisly end for a hero who exchanged innumerable blows with those having ascended to a higher plane of existence. Moments later, Gilles hit the dirt, face down, a single syringe in his back.

Huh. Fuck those guys in particular, I reckon, Kain's inner monologue drily added. Just don't hurt us, please. Please, Finn? Kain's prayer seemed to be answered in short order, as Finn simply set about continuing around the edge of the track, not stopping for anything. 

Meanwhile, Goeiz and Brahaam were busy fending off the flying weaponry from Gavin, and dealing with the magically enchanted bullets being flung at them from team Artemis. Goeiz had set up a new barrier for their chariot, and Brahaam was intently deflecting each weapon, even collecting a few, but it seemed to be on the defensive only, with no chance to lend aid to the other chariot for the time being. 

And finally, Arthur, eyes glinting, gleaming, his first note in the song of his vengeance about to be played angrily as the first power chord struck a mighty crescendo, he swings his mighty, dinner-plate sized fist at Gestalt.

The barest hint of a smile crossed Gestalt's face as certain doom approached. Rather than attack, or event attempt to use his blade to turn Arthur's fist, he loosened his grip, separating his hands and holding them one above the other as a black gate erupted from the space between. In that instant, the gigantic man's fist flew into the dark corridor, only for the opening to close around it. Perhaps on a lesser being it might sever the limb completely, but in the case of a veritable titan, it was only strong enough to bind him. But that's all he needed.

The gate holding Arthur's arm wasn't moving with Gestalt or their chariot, it was fixed in its place. Beholden to no force or motion. A full-rest to halt the growing crescendo of revenge.

Had the maneuver been executed in any more than the blink of an eye, it would've missed altogether - and the caster's body would've joined Peter's in the club of not-even-identifiable remains in short order. But in the same interval of time, it had halted the crimson-haired warrior's advance, and would now wrench him off the back of their chariot, leaving him dangling in the air, suspended at an awkward height, by a fetter of intangible darkness. A perfect bind. Too bad it would vanish once they got a good 25 meters away, and he had no way to perform a coup-de-grace on an opponent he could barely scratch, who he was now racing away from.

He stood there for a moment, almost disbelieving his own eyes. A flood of euphoria washed over him as he processed that he'd just gotten one over on somebody ten times his size. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sheathed his sword before his slackened grip would break entirely. Calmly - or as calmly as he could - he stepped back to the side once occupied by the victim of his utterly-dickish counter move and gripped the side. "Jill, you still alright?"

Dispatch took the briefest of moments to look over his shoulder as their opponent was ripped from his chariot. "Nice move!"

He turned back to face forward again, just barely avoiding one of the many projectiles flying his way, and having to deflect another in the process, before returning to his flight and increasing his speed to the pace it had been before, overtaking the chariot they had just clashed with. The ride was far from smooth now, though, for as the race dragged on there was a sharp increase in the amount of general stuff flying his way - where before he had managed to keep a fairly linear course, now he was having to weave constantly around the other chariots' attacks. It was all he could do to keep his own cart's wheels from slamming full-force into any moves that missed him; keeping the ride smooth was beyond him if he wanted to win. And what Saiyan didn't want to win?

Arthur thrust forward, and unexpectedly was halted in the air, hanging by his forearm in the midst of the racers. Seemingly undeterred, he simply held himself aloft for but a moment, reaching out towards one of the nearby chariots, and grabbed on. Seyren and Hurien both turned to fight their new passenger, but to no avail. Even as Seyren sang and Hurien channeled lightning to stop Arthur's heart, Arthur -- casually, almost flippantly -- passed a hand over each of their faces, and much as Peter did moments prior, the two melted in front of him. Rayles ran faster, trying to get away from his new passenger, but luckily for him, Arthur's sights locked onto the Hephaestus-Hermes team. Cracking his knuckles, he smiled, even as the chariots pull farther and farther from him. 

The Hera Team slows in front of Dispatch, the dual-wielding samurai swordsman Shin looking back over his shoulder as he runs, angling Evelyn and Enos in front of the Saiyan. Evelyn snaps a finger, and Enos' gun alights with a green aura, his bullets now whizzing dangerously close to Dispatch, closer than before and with more speed. The bullets themselves seemed to ring impossibly loud, as though each vibrated at ultrasonic frequencies through the air. Letting her partner cover her, Evelyn prepared a new spell, her hair dampening, her brow furrowing, and a red glow subsuming her form. Her formerly green eyes glowed red, as she unleashed a scion of flame from within her own aura, the titan of flame deposited onto the track, which then lunges at Dispatch's throat, a wall of flame jettisoning out from it's outstretched limb.

Kain was occupied himself with Finn beginning to close in on their chariot. Dammit, of course he'd show up when his teammates would need help. Fuck me all the same. Switching from defense mode to pumping up Brahaam and Goeiz, he called out over his shoulder "I don't blame either of you if you fall over dead, but we've got my old friends as company. One of them's a future-seer, and liable to stonewall whatever you do unless you're faster than her, and the other is a hulking mass of power that stops anything other than raw talent. Best of luck, and hang on tight."

"Not the most charitable of pep talks!" Brahaam cried out even as Kain sped up and came within speaking distance of Dispatch. "Juke and jive, and look alive! My friends are here to kill us!"

Brahaam pocketed the last of the weapons Gavin had tossed their way, before turning his attention to the approaching blur of a chariot. And Goeiz...

Well, Goeiz said something quite plainly, but laden with enough magic to warp reality and wrest the power the gods held. "I Wish to fight these foes on an equal playing field."

And the Planet hitched in its rotation, bending to his will.

"Yeah, well I got--" Dispatch was cut off as a bullet whizzed by his ear, the force of the sonic blast shoving him roughly to the side, though he took only a moment to right himself. "Got no plans to--" He casually slapped another away, although it definitely hurt much more than he expected to. How in the hell did they do that?

His patience wore thin as he suddenly drew near the giant flame monster. "I am goddamn TALKING!" he yelled in frustration, extending his own palm and loosing an explosion from it big enough to consume the whole beast.

As the wave of fire approached, Gestalt ducked below the edge of the chariot's wall, the heated air washing over his skin, singing his hairs and making him choke a little. As he stood back up again, the rushing wind blew out the burgeoning pyres which had been lit in the far tips of his hair, but more pressingly, the half-cape he was wearing was fully ablaze. Reaching up with one hand, he removed the clasp keeping it fixed to his shoulder, letting it be swept away as the fire consumed it. ...Damn. I think I kinda liked the cape.


As he glanced back at the loss of his garment, another blaze of red caught his eye - Arthur. How is he not out of bounds yet!? A DQ is the only way we can really deal with that guy, since his aura dampens our attacks and MELTS OUR FLESH! ...Leave that problem for when we lap him and he's in our way again.


The shocks of Enos' bullets soaring past brought him back to the present. That's the ass-hat gunner who shot his own teammate in the first round. While perhaps it was wiser to watch out for the magic-using Evelyn, he couldn't help but feel like an unscrupulous gunslinger was almost more worth keeping an eye on.

Each of the six racers our story follows feel as though driving through their skulls was a spike of divine pain and vitality, as their vision factures into kaleidoscopes of possibility, seeing the infinite micro-variations of each choice, conscious or unconscious. They see as Finn sees, and as Isis does: each action or inaction, each subtle movement, and the endpoint of each. The flood of a cosmic influx of information would ordinarily be enough to drive someone mad, if not outright kill them from the mental stress, but the power of the wish coalesces the kaleidoscope into a manageable lens over their sight, allowing them to fight with pre-ordained knowledge and combat the godlings on even ground, and an inordinate power of magnitude moreso against the other mortals, however strong they might be. 

Zero locks eyes with the gnome caster, and points two fingers out towards him. Sensing the ripple, she attempts to siphon away and nullify his power, but Kain looks over as she moves her arm up and rams his own cart into Finn's, knocking her off-balance. Finn weaves and dances even as he runs, evading Kain's ephemeral grasp even as Kain tries to burn away the harness, the chariot, his sister and his two closest friends, reaching desperately for Finn's neck. Goeiz sits in the basket, muttering a quick word before Brahaam stands upon the edge of the chariot, reaching down to match blows with Zero. The blows reach a rhythmic harmony even as they begin to seemingly multiply, as now four wavering, mirage-like Brahaam stand upon the chariot, punching down at Zero. 

Isis reaches out with her scarf, and it springs to life, jumping chariots and wrapping itself tightly around Goeiz, and thus trapped, began biting him; each fiber was laced with small, razor-sharp daggers and needles, each working their way into his skin like a woolen, living iron maiden. The scream was palpable and blood-curdling. Isis turns her attention back to Brahaam, and idly jabs a needle directly into Zero, causing Zero to bulk up even further beyond, her punches reaching terminal velocity with each strike.

Jill whips around, having been on the defensive against the combined holy assaults behind her, and focuses on the chariot in front of them. Seeing the flame elemental vanish after Dispatch's blast, she considers her foes carefully. Her new sight of causaility focuses intently on the gunman, pointedly, and she finds the quickest end to her current solution. An outstretched, grasping hand reaches towards the chariot he stands upon, and the very fibers of the wood with which it was made rebel against their shaped form, becoming thorns lodging themselves deep into his limbs. With another, she creates a thorny vine, whips it forward, and it lashes... around Evelyn. Evelyn, upon seeing the thorns, had cast two spells in quick succession: a restorative barrier that burst the thorns from his body, and a shield to protect the man next to her. As the last words of the second spell fell from her lips, the lasso tightened around her neck...

...and she was flung from the chariot, the look of terror on her face palpable to Enos, even as he reached for her, a second too late. While Jill had solved the initial problem, she had deliberately chosen the quickest solution, but had failed to look towards a long-term one. She felt two shocks immediately after: the body of the cleric crunching under the chariot, and the sudden look in Enos' eyes as the man seemed to be surrounding himself with a blood-colored aura. Whipping his pistols around, layering the barrels on top of each other sideways, and began charging ether. The shots were massive, more massive than the barrel, but the assault wasn't over yet. Even as the blasts rang out, Enos fired a strangely colored set of beams into the air above him, disappearing for a moment... and curving straight back into the earth, giant crosses of flame striking the track and sundering the earth, creating a score of huge potholes in the track each at least a dozen feet in diameter.

Dispatch's hand shot up to his temple as he was hit with a feeling not unlike a drill through his head. For a moment, his vision broke, and already annoyed at his inability to banter lately, his temper boiled. Visions coursed through his mind, of himself being flung into walls, the cart overturning, of getting disqualified as he tried to clean shards of bone from under his fingernails, and more than a few hazy images of...third place. God damn THIRD PLACE. He'd forgotten the race was already over by most metrics!

As the crosses smashed into the ground, Dispatch decided he was sick and tired of this, and especially of not being allowed to just reduce the cart ahead of him to cinders. He screamed and surged forwards with another burst of energy, his aura blazing the same color as his ki, as he blasted over the craters that now littered the track, increasing his angle as to haul his own chariot off the ground, but that was by no means the end of his move. He stopped cold in midair, turning to face the wrong direction, and leaned back to allow the cart to sail over his head.

"HAAAAA!" he bellowed, a golden beam of energy arcing from both hands towards the ground, propelling him after the cart. He crashed into its bottom, grabbing it by the sides as the group accelerated towards the far wall, and righted himself to kick off the outer rim of the track.

The sudden flood of sensory data hit Gestalt like a freight train, but once the initial shock wore off, his mind readily absorbed this new fount of information. His blood ran cold as he beheld timelines vanishing as quickly as they were created. He was barely able to process that Jill had dragged Evelyn from her place and crushed her underneath their wheels, and it only made the chill run deeper when he did.

Seeing the massive bullets racing towards them in future-sight, something clicked in his head. As he did, a new future formed, and he executed upon it - holding out his hands, a pair of dark corridors opened right in their path, swallowing the projectiles completely, then vanishing as quickly as they came. He clenched his teeth as their chariot rocked - both from the assault, and Dispatch's maneuvers. This is the opposite of what I thought the problem would be. I expected that gunman to be completely cold-blooded... this is actually worse. Gotta stop him.

For a second, he reached to grip his sword, but stopped to look ahead at what his actions would result in. Attempting to jump into range to attack directly... he would be shot to pieces mid-air. Jumping directly, he'd be an easy target, and if he tried to jump above the gunner's line of sight, he'd escape notice for a moment, but then he'd be an easy target as he came down, only offering himself a moment before oblivion. He couldn't control any factors that resulted in the gunman noticing him in time and blasting him apart. There was an obvious, common thread linking these possibilities: moving directly towards Enos would always result in death. Strike Raid faced a similar problem - the sword was only so durable. And creating corridors mid-air to block oncoming shots would take precise timing and spacing to execute without tripping himself or falling into one, and a miss would result in getting part of his body blown off.

However, there was one more possibility. He turned it over in his head a few times, running through the logistics and seeing how it would go if he simply followed his impulses, concluding that it was the only remotely safe option. Drawing his sword, he reared back, hissing the spell with a labored breath, and threw the blade with all his might, sending it spiraling through the air.

Over the left side of the chariot, towards the inner track, towards absolutely nothing. And then it vanished entirely, in a blackened wisp.

Like it wasn't completely a completely insane thing to do, the swordsman leaned on the edge of the chariot with one leg, kicking off and jumping right at Enos, more than fully aware of the danger he was flying into. As he surged forwards, he opened the other end of the corridor that his sword flew into - right next to his target. As if guided by unseen will, it careened forth, emerging from the abyss at high speed, aimed to cut the gunner clean in half.

Enos' fury, uncontainable, made the man lash out in grief. Evelyn had been like a sister to him, and to each of their little band, for as long as he could remember. In a land of carnage, the four came together to find solace amongst evils, though they themselves were sinners. He knew the loss would be temporary after the first round, but the sight of it -- her broken, mangled body -- broke him, completely and utterly. It wasn't enough for the perpetrators to pay, he'd stop everyone else from succeeding, he'd crush them all to paste with the might he had. Drawing upon the reserves of his very life force, he laid waste to as much of the track as possible, destroying several chariots in the process: Teams Aphrodite, Ares, and Arthur's original chariot for team Dionysus had been shattered, and the remaining living contestants had rushed to the center.

Yet through his anger, through his tears, Enos could not see the first of his two targets of anger leaping for him. Blindly firing, he missed the man leaping for him, and felt a tug through his torso. He stopped, his body disobeying his minds commands, and he reached for his chest, only to find his arms, shoulders, and head tumble to the bottom of the basket. The light fading, and rigor mortis setting in, Enos fired one last hateful shot, which clipped the chariot behind him, and faded to dark.

Brahaam could not lose focus for a moment, and though the bloodcurdling screams of an ally tore at his heartstrings, he could not spare him his fate. Brahaam's body began to steam, covering him in hot sweat, pouring down his forehead and down his body in thick rivulets, coating his body in what appeared not to be like water, but more like oil. Brahaam's strikes began landing true, striking past Zero's forms and connecting with the bruiser's body. Zero's form darkened, her own aura of nullification spreading to her chariot, devouring Kain's fire, but not stopping Brahaam's new technique. 

"Why... can't... I... stop... you?!" Zero shouted over the din of pounding muscle and her own drumming heartbeat.

"It is of the body, not of magic, nor divinity. It is the culmination of human existence!"

Isis had reached into her shawl to grab a new needle, seeking to stop Brahaam or begin sapping Kain's energy, but her sight and Brahaam's coalesced in one moment, coming to a crescendo with a mighty roundhouse heel to her chin, dislodging her jaw fully and slamming her head against the side of the chariot, where she promptly blacked out. Zero faltered for but a moment, and in that hesitation, Brahaam drove his fist towards Zero, but found in stopping just short. No matter how hard he attacked, no matter how swift his strikes, none were landing, and Zero's own body seemed to be enveloped in a haze. His sight began fracturing again, and he could no longer see the real Zero. 

Kain's sight also began to morph, and looked over at Finn, who seemed to be concentrating fully on something, his movements becoming noticeably stale to his current combatant. No choice, gotta bust out the trump card now...! Even as Kain reached up, Zero slammed Brahaam down into the basket of the chariot, next to Goeiz. Goeiz had nearly ceased moving, and Zero now stood above both of them. 

Behind them, a chariot of burning red fire, bright as the sun, hot enough that Kain began to squirm against the divine heat, barrelled towards them, coming even with the other two. Team Apollo had invoked the blessing of their god, and were now tied with Kain's chariot in speed, their own chariot burning as Apollo's did, pulling the sun across the daytime sky. Gavin was flying, the blind man's legs fully lifted off the ground, and two women stood aboard the chariot: Pell, whose art had served as a minor inconvenience to Zero in the last round, and the hostage of their team as well, her ponytail dancing in the wind even as her sword whip flailed, ready to strike. 

And in front of them, they gained on Arthur's new chariot, the man crouched and ready to bound backwards, seeking his prey once more.

The suffering etched plain on the gunner's face struck Gestalt like a truckload of ice-water. To see the myriad possible outcomes, many of which involved horrible mutilation or gruesome death, was one thing - to see that what he had just done was brutally strike down a grieving man, this was different.

Almost on auto-pilot, he landed on the chariot, before the man's severed body, reaching up an arm to catch his sword as it flew back into his hand. Had he been thinking clearly, he might have hidden the fact that he could control its flight path like that, but he was staring a dead man in the face.

He shot his own ally before, but the death of his comrade drives him crazy? What the hell is this guy?


A flood of swirling thoughts and tumultuous feelings coursed through him - question after question he had no response to. Finally, the chaos around him forced him to return to his senses. Glancing at the smoking wrecks of the racers Enos had targeted, he came up with he only answer he could stomach.

It wasn't right, but it had to be done.


Which struck him as odd - there was another, more obvious, more logical answer: "None of this matters, it will all be reset afterwards." But somehow, brushing it off as meaningless disgusted him more than trying to dress up his actions as righteous.

With his sudden mental crisis over, he looked over at the bright-blazing Apollo chariot, not even sure what he should be focusing on. The light of the flames hurt his eyes too much; it felt like he could go blind if he stared at them. Out of curiosity, he looked into that future, but it looked like if he tried to just stare at it, he'd die to something he couldn't see. Same difference. Even looking at the futures where he tried to draw closer to Kain and his team's assailants, it gave him a headache.

Meanwhile, Dispatch had taken the body of the chariot upon his back, looking like a vein was about to burst with the force of a supernova. And, naturally, he'd overtaken Enos' ride long ago and gone on ahead, leaving the tiny swordsman stranded. Maybe if I hadn't freaked out, I'd still have a way back. Oh, well. I'll try and fight the competition while I wait for him to lap us again. It's not like I can't jump that far, but not only will I be a sitting duck to anyone with long-range attacks, but I'll probably miss and land on the tracks, and I think I'd be disqualified for that.


Concerningly, Arthur had recovered and was on a collision course with Kain, who was already in hot water. And while Dispatch was strong enough to reach the end on his own, Kain's magic was their support. If he died, their chances of making it to the finish line at all would be a lot less certain. That's the plan: stop the red-haired berserker, and then leap back to my own team when they pass us again!


...Of course, he had no idea how he was going to pull that off. But he was beginning to see some possibilities. Kneeling a bit, he began to run through a few more ideas...

Dispatch paid no mind to the battle surging behind him. In fact, he could barely even hear it. His vision had tunneled, and the only thing he could even see now was what lay directly in front of him, and at the moment that was very little. His feet slammed into the outer rim of the track, the force leaving what was now just one more crater among many, and one that doubled in width when he sprung off of it at a right angle, aimed directly for the next corner. Again, he made a crater as his legs impacted the edge of the track, and again it expanded when he rocketed towards the next wall. The third wall was much farther away, and yet it wasn't spared the same fate, nor was the fourth, and with that Dispatch finally found himself barrelling towards the back of the lineup, about to make his seventh lap as they only neared their sixth.

Rham hadn't seen much of combat like this, but it didn't dissuade her either. Her team had invoked the blessing of Apollo to ensure their victory, or at least greater standing amongst the top, so they couldn't let it slide.  Choosing to take out the top runner, they aim to earn whatever accolades they may by taking down an otherwise insurmountable foe. Lashing out, Rham's wrist flicks forward, her sword-whip lashing like a scorpion's tail to the far chariot's harness, cleaving it in two cleanly. Zero thus stranded, her attention turns to the hulk herself, along with Pell. 

Pell began sketching furiously, her pen violently jittering as she stared dead into Zero's eyes. Zero momentarily turned for a split second to see the chariot falling away, and that was all the opening Pell needed. With a final swish of her pen, Pell's eyes light up, searing into Zero's aura of void, and from her sketchbook came an intricate lyre, shining gold and crimson. This lyre flashed to Gavin's hands, who grinned widely as he held it. 

Finn and Kain acted nearly in unison, though in a temporal sense, Finn always had the upper hand. Raising his hand, the harness mended itself, rewinding it's state and becoming attached again, and Isis' jaw fixed itself and she suddenly stood up, as though she'd never been kicked by Brahaam. Kain felt his legs slowing and reversing, and his body beginning to age millennia in seconds. The effect wasn't immediate, but his mind began to fracture under the weight of eons of experience, all of it stretched to eons of slow, dragging movement, a borderline hellscape of purgatory.

But Kain's hand still moved. Pulling out a secondary lighter, he clicked it but once, and a smile crept across his face. "MAXWELL!" Kain cried out, and a shadow crept across the entire track, for but a moment. In an instant, the Apollo chariot's fire was seemingly extinguished, the chariot itself glowing brighter, hotter, to an unbearable degree. Pell and Rham attempted to defend themselves for a moment, but in the next, the chariot flashed, and both women were left as shadow marks against the circuit walls, like remnants after a nuclear explosion. Finn's feet froze, stuck to the ground, and then broke off in the next step, leaving the man flying less steadily than he had been while running, even as the rest of his body fought the frost that threatened to consume him. 

Arthur leapt, and Gavin played a chord, and it was a song to please his lord.

A song of alliances changed, trust broken and men deranged.

He played a song to stop the Zero, and make her his hero.

She reached and grabbed forlorn Finn, and made his left and right torn twins.

[Intents: Arthur will land and attempt to crush Kain. Kain is going to freeze every last person who is any competition, won't succeed without interference against Arthur and Zero. Brahaam is almost down, Goeiz is out. Jill can't do much from a range, so that's dependent on Dispatch. Gavin will keep Zero under his control for another 2 laps before the chariot incinerates him.]

As Dispatch thrust himself from the fourth wall of the arena, into his seventh lap, he saw the mess that had erupted before him. Most of it didn't make sense, but one event stood out - the woman from the previous round that he'd noticed, the strong one, the one who was friends with Magic Man and Pottymouth, tearing her friend-and-leader asunder. Both, even, the events overlaid on top of one another in his mind's eye, accompanied by the same splitting headache from moments ago.

For a moment, it didn't process. That sight just...didn't make sense. People didn't just do that. Something really bad was going on, it had to be! With a moment's focus, his vision snapped back to normal, and the strong woman was in Magic Man's cart, reaching forward. The image of Magic Man being pulled into two pieces flashed again on top of the image of the woman reaching forwards, and Dispatch realized what was happening - visions of the future! As the thought occurred to him, he found himself met with, even more than the desire to win, or come as close to winning as he could - and the thought of who would be considered the winner with Pottymouth now deceased not even a blip on his radar - the desire to stop her.

Many more images flashed through his mind all at once. In one, he punched the ground, sending a spray of earth up into the woman's forehead. In another, the spray missed her completely. In yet one more, Magic Man's entire cart overturned, completely wiping out and running him over. So that plan? Bad plan. But as images, videos, possibilities roared through his mind, one stood out among the others. Completely absurd, yet with...much higher chances of success than one might expect.

His approach was rapid, and he only hoped that the redhead in his own cart would understand the message, but if she was getting the same visions as he was, that shouldn't be a problem: "Big lady. Stab her."

Without so much as another sound, he lifted the cart from his shoulders...and flung it at the other woman, simply allowing the straps that bound him to the chariot to drag him along in its wake.

In an instant, Gestalt was upon Kain's chariot, his skin crawling as he turned his back to the violence going on behind him. It felt wrong to look away from someone as dangerous as Zero, especially when she was about to murder Kain herself, but he'd seen that future; Dispatch and Jill's gambit - well, Dispatch's, with Jill's involvement - was a better bet than anything he could come up with. So that left the berserker.

As the titanic warrior descended upon the cart, intent on ripping Kain asunder, the tiny swordsman reached up and opened another corridor of darkness, directly in his path. With no way to divert himself in mid-air, the yawning darkness swallowed Arthur.

But immediately after he vanished within the gateway, the man soared out of it, having been unfazed by hitting the ground within the corridor at blinding speed. Gestalt grit his teeth, even though he'd seen this future already - with how time dilated within the corridors, his intended victim had been given ample time to escape. Of course, without his herculean might, he wouldn't have been able to launch himself back out at such speed as to keep up with and overtake the chariots that served as his only valid footholds.

Casting aside any fear, Gestalt shot forward to intercept him before he could land - slipping through another corridor, he appeared right in the crimson-haired man's path, already swinging his sword, aimed across the bastard's eyes, as they bored through his own. He'd seen this future as well; in many of them, the fierce giant would be mostly unharmed, but distracted enough to tumble and fall to the tracks. For just a moment, he felt like victory was assured.

Jill was rocketing towards Zero and Kain's overturned chariot with speeds that would have likely ground her bones to dust from the inside out if she hadn't become used to fighting things already beyond her comprehension. Her vision locked in on Zero, her future sight showing her what paths lay open to her, she made a snap reaction and drew her spear out, ready to throw. With her other hand, she reached forward, grasping through the air, each finger drawing, yearning, closer to her target: Zero's heart. 

Power That Would Make The Outer Gods From The Great Beyond Quake In Their Cosmic Boots
The Path To Oblivion The Collective Unconscious Was Destined To Walk Down Since The Dawn Of Its Inception
I Am The Spark Of That Fire, That Will Burn Down The First Order


Words tumble from her lips at speeds few could hear, and perhaps only the gods could understand, but as she finishes, she yells "DEATH... CLUTCH!" Her grasping fingers clench and twist, as she forcefully rips her fist backwards. Gavin could not have anticipated the full power of Zero's power, and so in his control, he fails himself by omitting the best part of such a titan's power: her invulnerability by virtue of voiding, nulling, and saying 'no' to cause and effect. Zero's ribcage obediently splinters and carves a hole through the back of her left shoulder blade, marrow and sinew, arteries and ventricles spilling violently in a burst of bombastic blood out of the back of her torso, obediently heeding the call of Jill. In her next motion, Jill throws her spear, the lance glowing mid-flight as it spikes the heart down into the dust and dirt, where it pumps once, and then nevermore.

Kain twisted in midair in an effort to shake Zero, his cart nearly falling over him like ass over teakettle, but with undue effort and a burst of energy from within, he managed to twist against the overturning cart, push it up above him. Kain carried it part of the way before streaking forward and letting the cart fall away behind him, snapping taut with the reins and following behind. He reached forward to catch up with Arthur and Gestalt, but before his very eyes...

Arthur had just enough foresight to realize that movement seemed to attract the tiny swordsman's gaze, and had prepared in his jump to move backwards. Any angle of attack meant that his blind spots were the best choice, meaning they'd be the most obvious. As Gestalt came crashing down at super speeds, aiming for his eyes, Arthut merely held up a hand, and the sword broke like brittle tin against it. Arthur's ogre-like mitt-hands grasped Gestalt's skull, and the giant spoke calmly, and proudly. "You had potential. Had. Were you experienced, and had you sufficient power, I would have enjoyed our contest more. But what you are, is a nuisance, and easy to read. Flail helplessly, and despair against your lot in life. Goodbye, child. I will see you next round, should your soul survive these next moments."

Arthur did not clench, but his fingers and palm twitched, as that accursed necrotic energy seeped out from him again. Worms, millipedes, and insects began to crawl out of his veins and pores, and into every orifice Gestalt had, including his tear ducts, as the energy sapped years from him, aging him well past death.

Gestalt tried to force a few words from his lips before he was assaulted with the very essence of death and rot. In a slight panic, he gazed into the future once more, but he couldn't see anything anymore - he no longer had a future. Part of him begged for death to come quicker, an end to his suffering. Another part was oddly calm. Even as the worms ate his flesh, and he wanted to scream in agony, he just gazed back.

But as his vision faded, his emaciated body began to break apart - not into flesh and bone, however. Wisps of darkness escaped his decrepit form, leaving empty air. As if his body had no substance to it. It made no difference before the rot - whatever his nature, it perished all the same. In mere moments, the only proof he'd ever been there was the broken sword that fell to the tracks, with no hand to grasp it.

As the large woman met her end, Dispatch once again turned his attention forwards, met immediately with the young swordsman's grisly fate. He snarled in annoyance, not even fully sure whether he was angry at the corpse warrior for taking out another Hermes member, the vanished swordsman for not having prepared himself properly, or maybe just in general. ...Actually no, he was just mad in general. But he'd already snapped himself back to sense, and losing it again would just make him look like an idiot in front of the Chief. Well...presumably the Chief was watching, anyway; Dispatch hadn't actually SEEN him today, but that was a thought for not yet.

With a quiet growl, he surged forwards, past Magic Man - he should be fine now that he wasn't under direct assault - slowing down as he began to overtake the Rot Knight. If he could goad the knight into attacking him, any counter-attacks could qualify as self-defense, and if he went for the passenger...well, she seemed smart enough to figure something out. Maybe she could explode his heart too, assuming he even had one.

Kain had had enough. Goeiz was dead, Brahaam was on the verge of collapse, and his other allies were either scattered or probably exhausted or unable to keep up. Pulling the Maxwell lighter out, which was in the style of a zippo lighter, engraved with the symbol of a dancing demon with fire in one hand and frost in the other, Kain callously flicks up on the device with all the apathy of someone going about a daily routine. In a flash, the entire arena was frozen over, save for the contestants, though Arthur was chilled and covered in frostbite in a moment. Kain, looking up at the man that had nearly truly killed him last round, and whose fighting spirit he'd taken away, reached forward, grabbed at the air, making a fist, and pulled.

In an instant, Arthur seized up, and scattered to frozen pieces, leaving the last 4 members of Team Hermes-Hephaestus alive, and unmolested as they finished the race. 

Upon finishing the last lap, Kain dismissively, irritated, throws off his harness and sets it upon the ground, walking over to where his fallen comrades lay. He set about picking up the pieces of his companions, and cradled Isis' body close as he gathered her and set her with the others towards the center, as Hades was coming over. The fact that they didn't arrive meant that it was likely a stain on his team's record: in other words, Finn, Zero, and Isis had died Heroic deaths, as they had always been reactive in nearly every engagement.

To be blunt, they had already all attained godhood, after a fashion: they'd never age, never die from natural causes or disease, and even if they were slain in battle, if they died a death that could not be considered Just or Heroic, they'd revive as they were, fresh and ready to fight again. Kain had deliberately acted in a way during the first round to maximize his chances of being revived during the chaotic brawl, though in the race he began aggressing others and attempting to take matters into his own hands. Finn had been reacting defensively to Team Poseidon, which left them blameless there, but then came to the aid of their teammates later. A selfless act in defense of another. Heroic. And that was why they hadn't come back on their own.

That fact bothered Kain, because it reminded him of the stakes they were still under. 6 of their friends had perished before they all came here, permanently, with no way to save them and keep the timeline going longer. They were playing the long game, and if this wasn't an Olympic Games where death truly didn't matter, his friends would have died and he would have been truly alone, more alone than he was for the months he was in Traverse Town without them.

The thought bothered Kain for a moment, but after the pale shade of Hades passed over each of them, he blinked and they were whole before him again. Kneeling down to them, the tiny man pulled each of them into a hug. "No hard feelings?" he asked, on the verge of voice crack.

"Nary and none, Aniki," Isis replied. "Nary and none."

Dispatch blinked as a cold wind swept over him. And again, as the next target for his aggression exploded into shards of ice. He looked around, but saw no one. No one but himself, Magic Man, and their remaining passenger apiece, traveling along a frozen track. Dispatch flew silently for the remainder of the course, two and a half laps with no sound but the slight creak of the wheels behind him. What...the hell had just happened? His own passenger used lightning, and the big guy in Magic Man's cart seemed to be unconscious, so...Magic Man himself?

As he pulled across the finish, relieved to finally be rid of the damned harness, he cocked his head at the young wizard's grieved reaction. He didn't get it - what was the big deal? Not only had they died well in combat, but they were about to come right back. His teeth set themselves as a memory flashed through his mind: a proud warrior with dark, scruffy hair, reaching into Dispatch's own space pod to punch in coordinates, and the view through the red-tinted glass of the warrior wrapping his arms around his partner amid a field of corpses. Well...maybe dying well in combat was little comfort, but at least Pottymouth and the others were coming back.

But, per usual at this point, his thoughts were interrupted, this time by a clap on the back. "Heh-hey, not too bad out there, kid!"

"Oh, hey, Chief!" said Dispatch, his countenance brightening.

"Lost your head again in the middle there, though," Tabago continued, his arms crossing as his expression turned to an almost smug-looking smile.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dispatch grumbled. "I gotta work on it. Doesn't just fix itself overnight, though."

"Just make sure you actually do work on it. It won't get better overnight, but ya gotta fix it as fast as ya can."

A pause, and then Dispatch smirked. "...Says the guy who was never late until he missed the tournament registration."

"Ha-ha. We all make mistakes, kid. What matters is how we deal with 'em. How old are ya now and yer still losin' yer head when ya can't just slam it into the problem? Figurin' out how to fight's half the fun of gettin' into a fight in the first place."

"I get it, Chief, I get it. Like I said, I'm workin' on it." Dispatch rolled his eyes. Speaking of memories, he'd forgotten how much the Chief liked to nag. But then again, he'd thought he wouldn't miss it either, until there was no more nagging.

As the frenzied race came to a cataclysmic end, a figure came sprinting to the edge of the stands, throwing their hands onto the sides as they leaned out over the arena. All they were able to see was an ice figure shattering and the remaining two racers just gliding to the end without resistance. "Aw, man, did I miss the whole thing!?"

Dressed in a slightly-ragged tunic and pants, tied with simple hemp, with a canvas sack slung over their shoulder, the green-eyed newcomer slumped to the floor, head barely peeking over the side to keep watch on proceedings. With short-cropped brown hair, round cheeks, and a dejected look, this young... man? Woman? Observed the remaining event with an unrivaled ennui.

Looking around, however, they noticed that the atmosphere was someone disquieted. For an audience at the world's most incredible sporting event, they seemed a little less excited, more cowed at what they'd seen. Taking a closer look at the carnage below, the traveler noticed the few bits that remained of the defeated; a mass of red ice that might have once been a man, scorches on the wall shaped like human beings, the separated halves of a man, a person so thoroughly mangled that it looked like they'd been run over by the wheels of a truck, yet another person in two distinct halves... the list went on.

That explained the look on some of the winners' faces - one of them had looked like his world was ending. The air was frigid, but that wasn't why the traveler shivered - though warmer garments wouldn't have gone amiss at this point, either.

The crowd continued to murmur as Hercules stepped out onto the pitch, and the remaining heroes who had sat out this round gathered around in their proper positions as they had the round before. The crowd softened and hushed as Hercules held out a hand, addressing them directly. "My fellow citizens! This round has been full of unexpected surprises and plenty of twists and turns! While the battle today resulted in unfortunate ends and carnage, we are full glad of the assistance brought to us by Lord Hades, and would like to take a moment to thank him for his continued help and sportsmanship in making this Olympic Games work as well as it has!" 

The crowd lightly cheered and clapped politely for Hades, not out of fear or resentment for the man, but due to the overall mood that had gripped the crowd. Hercules continued, "And so it is that we will confer a grade upon each of the paired teams together, as one unit! Firstly, the Zeus-Hera team! For sportsmanlike conduct, we award 8 points! All contestants gave it their all and did not hold back at all, even when pitched battle raged around them! For being the first to finish, and finishing 16 laps between the two teams, we offer 9 points! Had Team Hera completed even one more lap, we would have seen fit to award the final point; however, several other teams managed to continue past their progress! For disabling other chariots, we offer 7 points! Team Zeus disabled Team Poseidon, the other fastest chariot, and Team Hera disabled 3 chariots on their own! Well done! And finally, loss of passengers! Sad to say, both chariots lost contestants at some point in the race, so we cannot offer any points to them, but no team today will be disqualified, due to the circumstances of today's contest. All told, that's 24 points, in addition to their 31 prior, for a total of 55 points!

"For Team Athena-Apollo! For sportsmanlike conduct, we offer 8 points! Crafty and inventive, and dedicated to the last, we found their courage inspiring despite the stacked odds! For laps finished, the two teams finished 14 laps between them, before being stopped, and so we offer them 7 points! Neither team managed to finish, but they still did their best. For disabling other chariots, we cannot offer points directly, however, in tackling challenges that seemed insurmountable, we offer them 6 points, in stopping the assault of Team Zeus, and for their attempt to stop Team Hermes as well! Finally, Team Apollo did in fact keep all of its passengers, only losing them upon their deaths, and so we offer 5 points. That's 28 points, for a total of 54 points! Good work to Team Athena-Apollo!

"For Team Ares-Artemis! For sportsmanlike conduct, we offer 9 points! Both teams fought valiantly and worked together with other racers to create a fantastic event, and were ones to watch! Neither chariot finished, and they completed a total of 14 laps, so we award them 7 points! For disabling other chariots, we cannot offer direct points, however, as with the previous teams, we can offer another 6 points for their targeted, coordinated assault on Team Hephaestus-Hermes! For passengers, we are proud to announce this team kept all of their racers in the chariot basket, but diverted to the inside as instructed when things got out of hand. We award 8 points to these contestants, for knowing that discretion is the better part of valor! That's 30 points, for a grand total of 59 points!

"For Hades-Poseidon! Another set of racers to set example, team Hades working with previously mentioned teams to take down a greater threat, and to Team Poseidon for holding nothing back and showing us their true potential! 9 points! Another 8 points for being the second team to finish all 10 laps, and to finish 15 laps in total, just one lap short of Team Zeus-Hera! For disabling other chariots, they occupied Team Zeus for nearly the entirety of the race, and so for that valiant effort we award them 4 points! For keeping their racers intact, we are once again proud to say they followed this through to the bitter end, with Team Hades being crushed by the Team Hera assault, and Team Poseidon being crushed by Team Zeus' assault! That said, they kept their passengers in their baskets until their final moment, so we offer 7 points! 28 points for a total of 48! A valiant effort indeed!

"For Aphrodite-Dionysus! We offer only 6 points for sportsmanlike conduct. While they performed their best, there was little teamwork between the two teams, and one member of Team Dionysus seemed to disregard the race itself in favor of a grudge match, leaping from basket to basket and disrupting the other racers. For laps completed, at 14, we offer 7 points! For disabling other chariots, we can offer 7 points as Arthur of Team Dionysus did contribute to stopping other racers in their tracks, and used this to his advantage. For keeping their passengers in their baskets, Team Aphrodite was sadly caught in the crossfire of Team Hera, therefore we can offer 4 points to them, but none for Team Dionysus, totalling at 4 points. All told, that is 24 points, to their total of 41 points! 

"Finally! We have the wild cards of these Olympic Games, and the first place contestants of Round 1, Hermes-Hephaestus! For sportsmanlike conduct, we offer 7 points! They worked together and well, however, they were disruptive to the intent of the chariot race, as their chariot left the ground more than once! For clearing laps, they are the only team to complete all ten laps, and by both teams, despite being the third and fourth teams to finish! For this, we have chosen to confer upon them the full 10 points! For disrupting other chariots, they hold the highest body count, and so we would like to offer them the benefit of a whopping 8 points! Finally, for keeping riders in their chariot, we did in fact have one contestant leaping out of his own chariot, and another chariot who kept their contestants inside, despite the disadvantage it posed. We will offer 6 points to these teams for this. That's a staggering 31 points, in addition to their 33 from last round, leaving them well in the lead at 64 points! Our final rankings are thus!

"Team Hermes-Hephaestus!
"Team Ares-Artemis!
"Team Zeus-Hera!
"Team Athena-Apollo!
"Team Hades-Poseidon!
"And Team Aphrodite-Dionysus! Contestants, well done! Please stick around for the next 10 minutes, as we will have an important announcement for the teams and the audience at that time regarding the future of Round 3!"