〚 C O L O S S E U M 〛- A Writing Prompt Battle Game

IS THAT A JOJO REFERENCE I-

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Unfortunately not but I wish I would have thought of that…

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HSHSHSHSH

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Ohhhhh boy, have I done it now. Just short of 6K.

An account of the encounter between String-Eye and Sebastian Lorens, AKA BORRASCA

0300
Sebastian stood amid a dense forest. The wind rushing gently through the trees held the unmistakable chill of oncoming winter. The moon was high above, glaring down through the canopy of leaves with an unapproving light. Even the moon isn’t happy about this… Sebastian thought to himself. Sebastian tugged at the fly-strap on his custom P90, hoisting the large weapon over his head. He set the stock down into the dirt and leaned it against his leg. Next, Sebastian tugged his shirt off. He stood still for a moment, basking in the moonlight as it illuminated the vulgar and intricately designed tattoos covering his torso, chest, and neck. Sebastian dropped to a knee and unclipped the top of his small pack resting at his feet. He pulled from the bag a glass beaker bound in shock-absorbent plastic and a large nail. Using the sharp tip of the nail, Sebastian smashed a small hole in the top of the beaker before putting it down next to the gun. With his free hand, he traced a finger along his mid-section, feeling for the correct spot. Sebastian found it quickly and brought the tip of the nail to where his finger indicated. If I end up doing this for nothing, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Sebastian inhaled sharply before driving the thick cylinder into his flesh until the flattened head of the nail was flush with his skin. His expression only flickered, but his breathing had sped up slightly.
Already, Sebastian could feel his flesh cling to it, his guts wrapping around it as they tried to heal. He could feel the flipping of his stomach as it writhed around the foreign object. Sebastian ignored this and crouched down to retrieve the beaker. He gave the moon a defiant look before tilting the liquid into his mouth. Sebastian chugged vigorously, and before long, the cup was empty. It tasted like ash. Even at such a ridiculous degree of dilution, the taste of The Holy Sacrament pervaded. Sebastian supposed such was the nature of the thing. It thirsts for consciousness the same way a drowning man desires air. Sebastian had no exact idea how it might affect his target, but he had a general idea of what to expect. He was more concerned with being able to effectively administer it. Utilizing such an abstract chemical was a perilous balancing act between avoiding inflicting an overdose and administering a sufficient one. Luckily, Sebastian had plans to spare.
He packed the empty glass back into the pack and extracted an odd-looking boxcutter, which he tucked into his waistband. Sebastian took out a pair of thick black latex gloves and pulled them on before closing the pack and clipping it shut. He yanked his shirt back on and checked that the SigSauer P226 MK5 was correctly in its holster on his pant leg. Sebastian had never directly engaged his target, but his experience with Gwen—and the new information in the dossier he had been provided—painted a picture of a satisfying conflict. Sebastian’s sidearm was secure, and he stood up, grabbing the oversized P90, and secured the fly-strap, so the gun was tight against his chest. He brought his pack back over his head and onto his back. The liquid in his stomach had begun to heat up. It was slight, but it would no doubt continue to increase. Sebastian told his body to relax and set off into the forest.

0415
Sebastian was standing on the edge of a small clearing. In the clearing center was a house; its modernistic architecture belied the minimalist impression it gave. It had a sleek design, and the moonlight glanced off the faces of solar panels on the roof. Sebastian had no intention of entering quite yet, given the large glass panels that looked out into the forest. Sebastian kept to the edge of the deciduous darkness, and with a low profile, he slunk about. If Sebastian was to find what he was looking for, he would have to do it before entry. Sebastian hadn’t seen anything to indicate any access to water-related systems on the roof, meaning the pumps were likely buried in the ground. Buried far too deep for him to do anything about. However, there would need to be a maintenance port to allow access for inspections. He noiselessly stalked through the grass, looking for what he hoped was there. Sebastian found what he was looking for after a while spent silently shuffling through the grass and fallen leaves. Kicking away a layer of dirt revealed the metal cap that was embedded in the ground. The letters engraved into the metal were different than what Sebastian was used to, but the symbol, though not the exact same, was universally deducible.
By now, the sloshing of liquid in Sebastian’s stomach burned hot, and his finger tapped on the head of the nail buried in his stomach. He was looking at a maintenance port, and there was no slot for a turn-key or any way to manually trigger the system. Sebastian would have to activate the sprinkler system once he got inside. Taking a knee, Sebastian positioned himself next to the port and lifted his shirt. His fingertips dug at the head of the nail, finding purchase to wrench it free. The metal spike slid from his torso with a squelch, and Sebastian used it to puncture the seal around the metal cap in the ground. He used it as a lever and pried the lid free, exposing the water stored in the subterranean pipe. It was clean, a good sign; this was the water flowing in, not the water coming out. Sebastian positioned his face over the hole and began to wretch. He regurgitated into the water. His vomit was clear and resembled the liquid before ingestion; the nail in his guts had prevented any digestion from taking place. He heaved a few more times before coming up empty. Sebastian wiped his mouth and spat into the grass before placing the cap back over the port. Great… Sebastian thought to himself, putting the nail in his pocket, It worked, but now I’m gonna be fucking starving this whole time. He put his shirt back down and stood, kicking dirt back over the metal plate.
Sebastian turned to the house in the clearing and began to make his way towards it. The sounds that came from the forest were the ones announcing the onset of a new day. Birds were waking, and it wouldn’t be long before the sky began to brighten with the first rays of sunshine.

0530
Sebastian was correct about the modern interior, but he hadn’t been right about the size and the layout. It seemed much more prominent on the inside than its exterior had suggested. Sebastian took his time, however, wandering aimlessly from room to room. The interior was a well-designed blend of open and closed concepts. All the rooms flowed into each other, and Sebastian couldn’t help but notice how the walls seemed to be placed. It was like they had been erected to direct movement to one area or another. Sebastian admired the design. Soon, he found himself entering the kitchen. The kitchen was L-shaped, with the stove and preparation area on one side and a sink and large countertop on the other. Sebastian poked around nosily; after all, the kitchen was his favorite room in any house. He found a box of matches in one of the cabinets and was about to light a candle resting on the kitchen island. Instead, Sebastian noticed the modern hotplate-style stove String-Eye owned. He plucked the candle from its stand and placed it silently on the smallest of the stove’s heat pads before setting it to medium-high heat.
Across from the kitchen, through a threshold, Sebastian could see a living room. As he made his way to snoop around there, he froze. Sighing, Sebastian straightened out and turned to where a pair of red eyes study him from the shadows. Sebastian turned to face String-Eye and gave him a coy smile.
“You know,” Sebastian said, “I was beginning to think you may not have been home. Could you imagine my disappointment?” String-Eye did not respond to this; instead, he grabbed a glass from the sink and filled it using the tap. String-Eye set in on the counter and slid it towards Sebastian, who scooped it up and drank it without hesitation. As Sebastian drank, String-Eye tugged a cigarette from his pack from his shirt pocket and lit up.
“Ahh,” Sebastian exhaled, finished, “That’s much better. I think water tastes better when it comes from the ground. Thanks.” Sebastian nodded at String-Eye and placed the glass back down on the counter. String-Eye said nothing; instead, he walked into the living room, and Sebastian followed. Behind them, the candle on the stove was quickly beginning to melt. Sebastian was glad that String-Eye left the kitchen before the wax started to scorch.
String-Eye grabbed a remote from the glass coffee table in the center of the room and pressed a button. The impressive TV that was anchored to the wall flickered on. The volume was down low to where Sebastian couldn’t make it out, though, by the looks of it, it could have been the news. String-Eye waved the hand holding the remote, gesturing half to the kitchen and half to Sebastian. What the fuck is that supposed to mean… Sebastian kept his thoughts to himself. Instead of answering immediately, he quickly acknowledged the layout of the room.
The coffee table was in front of the TV, with a couch on the other side facing the screen. The sofa was surrounded by a few comfortable-looking armchairs. Sebastian was also pleasantly surprised to discover that this room was about half the size of what he had expected. Which, He supposed, Makes sense. I can’t imagine that String-Eye spends any more time here than he needs to. In addition to the relatively small size of the room, the kitchen was not across a hall but instead separated only by a doorway with a tall, intricate threshold that was no doubt designed for lighting and flow. Against the same wall were two leatherbound lounge chairs, each with a small glass reading desk tucked in beside them. Perfect.
Sebastian motioned to the chairs, sitting across from each other at a slight angle. String-Eye gave him a suspicious look. Sebastian was already settling into one of the chairs; he took off his pack and leaned it against the side. String-Eye followed him, his expression cold. He gave nothing away, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. As String-Eye sat in the other chair, he observed Sebastian. Sebastian noticed this, and he gave String-Eye a smile full of razor-sharp teeth.
“I know what you’re thinking. It must seem pretty obvious, huh?” Sebastian began jovially. “After all, I’ve got this massive thing strapped to my chest and these gloves on.” Sebastian tapped the P90. The chrome black surface reflected no light. A small design wrapped the weapon: what appeared to be a girl, drawn in a seinen-anime fashion. She was clutching her eyes; her mouth hung agape in a horrified scream. The design was all-white, but what resembled blood seeped out from behind her hands. Sebastian traced the design with his gloved finger. “This is one of my favorites…” Sebastian clicked his tongue and began to dig through his pack, extracting a folder and placing it on the glass table next to him. In the room next to them, the wax had overheated and was beginning to burn and smolder.
“So,” Sebastian said, “We meet again, String-Eye. Do you know why I’m here?” String-Eye did not respond, only challenged Sebastian with his eyes. “I figured as much…” Sebastian replied, “You barely uttered a word when that whole unfortunate mess with Gwendolyn transpired. I can’t imagine that my presence here this morning would inspire any verbal communication on your part. So, if that’s the case, I’ll do the talking for now.” Sebastian looked to String-Eye for a nonverbal. String-Eye squinted, and Sebastian nodded, continuing. String-Eye was intrigued, though he’d never offer that information. He hadn’t seen much of Sebastian, let alone heard the man’s strange accent, and as the one-sided conversation progressed, String-Eye found that Sebastian could elocute his thoughts with alarming clarity.
“My, my…” Sebastian said, flipping through the dossier that bore the emblem of the Empire. “You are quite a dangerous man, it seems. Wanted for all matters of treachery and grotesquerie. Conspiracy to commit capital offenses, accessory to kidnapping, and human and drug trafficking. Your time with Thoris, in particular with Ms. Thorisdottir, has harvested much-unwanted attention.” Sebastian trailed off, flipping the dossier closed with a bored gesture. Sebastian looked at String-Eye.
“I have to say I’m not very impressed. I mean, what is your goal? What are you really trying to achieve? I think most people would say that it’s money, which I doubt. Others suggest that your actions are a clamoring grab for power, making slightly more sense than the former. However…” Sebastian paused to think, “It’s lackluster at best. Though I’ve been told repeatedly to the point of stupidity that this organization you work with is truly a menace, I fail to see the grandiosity of your malice. The works of your organization… It all falls flat. It’s too… Uninteresting.” String-Eye said nothing in turn, but his expression had darkened. Meanwhile, the candle on the stove was smoking in the kitchen, whisps reaching up to curl around the ceiling.
“Thoris is certainly threatening,” Sebastian continued, “And you are indeed a dangerous cog in a formidable machine, but a cog is still just that.” Sebastian leaned forward slightly, “Oh String-Eye, what a horrible man you are, huh? Kidnapping and trafficking, distributing drugs, and undoubtedly murder. Please,” Sebastian spat that last word as he sat back, “I’ve seen more murder and committed more atrocities than I can count; you cannot possibly tell me that your actions are genuinely indicative of something special. That there is anything novel or unique to your operation.”

0615
As Sebastian said this, there was a sudden hissing noise. A piercing alarm sounded, and as String-Eye tensed in his seat, cones of mist begin to shower down from tiny spouts hidden in the recessed lighting. Sebastian’s skin tingled, and the hairs on his body where they mist fell tingled. His blood was reacting to the presence of the contaminated water as it sifted down from above. If String-Eye noticed anything, it was eclipsed by annoyance as the mist doused him, extinguishing his cigarette. The two of them sat there for a while under the heavy mist until the alarm went quiet. The overhead water spouts slowed to a meager drip. String-Eye gave Sebastian a look that said, ‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’ Sebastian didn’t say anything; instead, he calmly and quickly flipped his P90 upright from his chest and pulled the trigger.
The P90 let out a rapid series of short pops. The lounge chair String-Eye had been sitting in was torn to shreds. It was also empty. String-Eye had moved so fast that Sebastian hadn’t seen it. Sebastian sighed and pulled himself up from his seat. “Huh,” he mumbled, “Damn strings…” He stepped back from the doorway and brought the gun into his shoulder. Sebastian fired a steady stream of shots at waist-level along the wall. The large-caliber rounds tore through the house like the walls were paper. Sebastian didn’t expect to hit anything. However, he wasn’t too keen on letting String-Eye get any closer than desired. Sebastian’s gun clicked in his hands.
As Sebastian was sliding a fresh clip into its slot, there was a stinging sensation that encircled his right wrist. Sebastian turned to see String-Eye standing a few meters to his side, his hands outstretched and his fingers paused in a familiar gesture. Sebastian was equal parts confused and concerned. He couldn’t gather how String-Eye was suddenly back in the room with him, but he could tell by the way his hands were positioned that it should be the lesser of his worries. String-Eye flexed his arm inwards, and Sebastian felt a transference of weight as his right hand was sliced clean off. Blood shot across the side of the P90 as Sebastian tried to shift the gun into his left hand. It wasn’t working, and the gun dropped, the barrel slamming into the floor.
Sebastian turned to face String-Eye, but he was gone. Frustrated, Sebastian healed himself much too fast, and his replacement hand suffered a nasty case of polydactyly. It was functional, though, and that’s what mattered. He slammed the clip into place and picked his weapon up. Sebastian had wanted to keep his gloves on, but with one gloved hand already discarded, it was pointless now. Sebastian stormed angrily into the next room, what appeared to be a study. Sebastian fired more rounds into the walls as he moved to the next room. As he passed by the bookshelves, there was a glimmer of something that caught his eye, literally. The blade embedded itself into Sebastian’s skull, and Sebastian shouted in surprise. String-Eye was putting his full force behind it as he drove the serrated edge deeper into Sebastian’s head. Sebastian slammed the barrel of the gun into String-Eye’s stomach and yanked on the trigger. String-Eye vanished again.
As Sebastian yanked the knife from his eye, he swore loudly and dropped the P90 to the floor. Blood trickled down his hands, and there was a thundering pain that bounced around his cranium. His eye was already healing, that much he could do quickly and without error, but the surrounding area would have to be left to bleed if he wanted to heal properly. He swept the gun up and swerved around the corner, firing a blind volley of shots down the hallway. There was no sign of String-Eye, and the water droplets on the floor weren’t helping either. The vibrations from the gunfire had caused them to coalesce and run together like tiny streams. Sebastian abandoned the pretense of caution and stalked down the hallway into the dark. Despite the crushing pain in his head and the faint dripping of water, things had gone too quiet. That was until the gentle whirring cut through the silence.
Sebastian spun around and attempted to raise the gun, but he was already tangled up in a spidery web of strings. He couldn’t move, and as he struggled against them, he could feel the lacerations forming on his skin. String-Eye stepped out from a room off to the side. Sebastian had almost reached it. String-Eye had set a trap, it seemed.
“You know,” Sebastian spat, “The instructions told me to incapacitate you and capture you, but you know what? I think I’m gonna fucking kill you instead—” Sebastian choked on those last words. String raised his open hand and clenched it into a fist.

0615
String-Eye was sitting in the lounge chair, facing Sebastian, who wore an evil smile. Sebastian’s shark teeth gleamed at him. String-Eye suppressed the feelings of confusion. That’s not right… This isn’t right… I just… This man just died…
“Are you alright?” Sebastian chimed. “You look a little pale.” String-Eye didn’t answer this, but his expression was wary. “Here,” Sebastian said, “Maybe this will help.” He flipped the P90 from his chest and aimed it at String-Eye. Sebastian had no intention of pulling the trigger, but String-Eye reacted much too quickly to inform him of that. String-Eye had already deployed his strings, wrapping them around the firearm. The gun came to pieces, and in reaction, Sebastian lunged out of the chair.
It was stupid to do, as String-Eye brought the free-floating strings together in circles around his body. String-Eye jumped out of his seat, moving each of his fingers in and out in rhythm. His lines deployed rapidly and began to entrap Sebastian. Sebastian’s left arm was first, followed by his right leg. As the limbs fell from his torso, blood splattered around the room. It mingled with the water and turned bright red. Sebastian toppled over and began to laugh.
“That’s it! That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” He yelled as the strings began to slice through his other limbs. It didn’t appear to matter much to Sebastian, though, as he crawled best he could toward String-Eye. “Come one! Don’t be shy! Really cut into me! Pull me apart! You’re a dangerous man, right? Show me what that fucking means!”
String-Eye was having a hard time keeping his demeanor. When he had met Sebastian prior, he didn’t seem as crazy as this. Sure he fired blindly into Gwen’s villa, but this was another level. And before… What was that all about? He can remember it happening, but it mustn’t have…
String-Eye yanked his hands up and severed Sebastian’s remaining limbs. Except, when the strings cut through, something happened. There was a stutter, but it wasn’t him, nor was it Sebastian. It was like the space around them jittered the way an old-fashioned film reel might jump and flutter in place. Sebastian was saying something, but it didn’t make sense.

1530
The sunshine washed over a field of wheat. In a heavenly warm glow, the golden tendrils swayed back and forth like the waves of an ocean. The only sound was the sweet susurrus of wind as it whispered across the infinite plains. Amid the elysian fields stood a white adobe house. Inside, under the shade of the straw roof, a woman stood. In her hands, she was delicately working the soil inside a small flowerpot. She gingerly placed a seed into the dirt and was careful in covering it up. She clutched it to her chest and had nothing left to do but hope. She turned and looked out of the doorway, across the timeless fields of wheat.
“It’s you.”

0615
String-Eye clutched his head in his hands to conceal his panic. His heart was pounding harder than it had in a while, perhaps in forever. He looked up to say something to Sebastian, but the opposing lounge chair was empty. What the fuck is going on? He eased his hands down and suddenly realized they weren’t empty after all. There was a pistol in his hands, and even though String-Eyewas confident he had only now just lowered his hands, the end of the gun was shoved down Sebastian’s throat. Sebastian locked eyes with him, blushing; his drooling tongue traced the barrel of the firearm suggestively. His lips and teeth tugged at it with lecherous vulgarity.
“Ngh!” Sebastian choked around the gun in his mouth, “I’m gonna—”
String-Eye jumped, and the gun went off. Saliva and blood splashed back onto his hands as brains and viscera exploded outwards from Sebastian’s skull. Sebastian was pushed back by the force of the blast and writhed on the floor. His words were unintelligible, but they had the unmistakable tone of lasciviousness. String-Eye felt sick.

7777
String-Eye was in the passenger seat of a Ferarri Roma as it soundlessly glided through the rain-soaked streets of a dilapidated cityscape. Sebastian was in the driver’s seat, his gloved hands lazily gripping the steering wheel as he drove. String-Eye must have spaced out; Sebastian was in the middle of a sentence when String-Eye realized he was speaking.
“…why you’re here.” Sebastian glanced at String-Eye, who was watching the beams of the headlight slice through the veil of rain as it poured down. “Anyways,” Sebastian said, “Let me tell you a story while we have the time.”
String-Eye nodded and kept his gaze fixed ahead.
“My father,” Sebastian spoke and fished a joint from the center console, “Mind you, not my biological father, though I suppose by now he might as well be. He was an interesting man for more reasons than we have time to get into. Would you light me?” Sebastian turned to String-Eye, who held up the lighter in his hands, sparking the joint. What? Had I always had that in my hand? Or… I guess… String-Eye’s thoughts trailed off; Sebastian had continued talking, smoke dancing from his lips.
“It’s hard to talk about him without migrating into a discussion about the manipulation of temporal and spatial qualities, but I’ll do my best. Many decades ago, my father was what some people called a tyrant. A warmonger, even. Sure, it was not an entirely undeserved title. Still, when he reached out to one of America’s three-letter agencies, they revered him and his idealogy with a new title: Social Architect. Whereas social engineering utilizes centralized planning to create a desired social change and maintain any future behaviors or developments of a given society, social architecture is vastly different. The engineering aspect takes place inside a preexisting social climate; architecture pertains to the careful construction of such a specific climate. Therefore, to witness a purely unobstructed feat of social engineering while maintaining objectivity, it was imperative to manufacture an isolated system where absolute control could be executed to observe how the dynamics of change influenced and of the given sub-systems. Do you follow?”
String-Eye only nodded. Sebastian waved at the smoke that hung in the air.
“Anyways, that’s what he did. And he was paid enormous sums of money for it.” Sebastian’s accent was thicker than usual but still unplaceable. “He worked alongside the Americans for something like forty years—Oh, that’s our turn.” Sebastian yanked the wheel hard to starboard, and the car drifted on the wet roads before correcting at the last second and revving down the turn. “Forty years, can you believe that? I suspect it could have lasted as long as the Americans thought they were in control. However, it all came falling down, quite literally, actually. That was when the unfortunate Mr. Frank Olsen was, uh… Well, he had an accident, yea, that’s it, and plummeted thirteen stories from his cozy little suite in the Statler. Afterward, the American government was forced to find a way to rationalize officially sanctioning such nefarious activities. This was when… Fuck, what was his name?” Sebastian paused in thought; something came into view of the headlights, and Sebastian swerved around it without batting an eye. “Sydney! Or, at least that sounds right. Regardless, my father wasn’t too fond of having to abide by anything so frivolous as laws and refused to participate any further, at least not in the same capacity.
“My father met another man, a Dr. Vitsin Blysk, around the same time. They began to work on their own project that, unlike the American’s project, which died in the mid-seventies, is still around today. My father taught me everything he knew about mind-altering chemicals and unknown, unimaginable substances that could beget incomprehensible changes to a person. Which, now that I think about it, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out.”
That caught String-Eye’s attention. He turned to Sebastian and said, “Hvað meinar þú með því?” String-Eye was suddenly assailed by a strange sensation. It felt like his chest and neck were being groped by invisible hands, unseeable fingers tracing the musculature of his back.
“You’ll see what I mean,” Sebastian replied, “Open the glovebox.”
“…Af hverju?” String-Eye couldn’t explain it, and he wasn’t sure why, but he was suddenly repulsed by the idea of opening the glovebox.
“It’s the only thing left to do,” Sebastian said flatly, “You have to take responsibility.”
“Til hvers?” Sebastian swallowed a lump that had materialized in his throat.
Sebastian said nothing for what seemed like an eternity; he only gazed out at the road as it raced past beneath them. Finally, he answered: “For all the world’s suffering.”
String-Eye reached out a hand toward the glovebox, pausing it in mid-air. Wait… He was so confused, beyond conflicted, Didn’t… I don’t have anything on my wrist… Where’s my— His thought was cut short. His fingers had reached the handle as though of their own volition; his heart sank into his stomach. String-Eye ground his teeth and yanked on the handle.
String-Eye was confused at first. The red eyes… The long dark hair… the familiar features. It was at that moment when his confusion was obfuscated by mind-numbing horror. The head of his grandmother stared back at him from inside the glovebox. Her mouth hung agape, exposing her gums. They had been mashed into red pulp, and her teeth had all been cut from their sockets. Her tongue was missing. On her forehead, words were carved deeply enough that the grimy surface of bone peeked from the lacerations. String-Eye couldn’t move. The sensations that affronted his skin had only amplified, and now it was reaching a fever pitch. String-Eye tried to breathe, but he was afraid of what might slip from his lips if he did so. String-Eye turned to Sebastian in the driver’s seat, but he wasn’t there anymore. In his place was the slowly decaying headless corpse of a woman. It was disgustingly familiar. Her skin sagged and slipped unnaturally over her rotting bones; maggots crawled beneath the leathery surface. She took one hand off the steering wheel and reached out to String-Eye, who pushed himself as far away as he could get.
The car jumped ferociously as it sped faster and faster. String-Eye felt the bile bubbling in the base of his throat. There was a cough somewhere from down at his side. His head snapped to where the sound was coming from. The disembodied head was slowly beginning to wriggle its lips. Pained words choked themselves from his grandmother’s mouth, but it was not her voice. It was Gwendolyn’s.
“You…” It muttered, “you did this to me… You are the only one to blame.” You…” The voice trailed off as black sludge began to pour from the gawking mouth of his grandmother’s head. Midnight ooze that sloshed across the seat and String-Eye’s lap thicker than oil. It reeked of putrescence. The fetid air strangled the air out of the car and invaded String-Eye’s nostrils like worms and leeches. The car’s frame had begun to shudder like a slum’s rooftop in the rain. String-Eye’s head was spinning, and the sensations plaguing his body threatened to overtake him. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. String-Eye jumped and whipped his head around.
Sebastian sat in the back seat, a joint smoldered between his lips. He wasn’t looking at String-Eye. Instead, he was looking straight ahead, a worried expression on his face.
“That doesn’t look too good, does it?” Sebastian said; his voice was calm, cheerful even. String-Eye pried his eyes away from the chaos surrounding him and followed Sebastian’s gaze beyond the headlights. Illuminated by the LEDs was their ostensible destination. A towering wall of flesh and blood that quivered and twitched in revolting ways. Shards of bone and jagged rows of teeth protruded from the surface like a macabre and primitive defense. Eyes that grew misshaped and jaundiced flittered and blinked at them from the fleshy texture.
“Brjálæði…” String-Eye’s lips moved on their own as horror overtook him. The car was thrumming as it teetered over the edge of its top speed. The insane structure was approaching them at a frightening pace.
“Yes,” String-Eye heard Sebastian hiss excitedly. “A wall of death. A tower to reach the heavens and raze the cities of angels!” String-Eye was trying to speak when he noticed that Sebastian’s cheeks had begun to split at the corners of his mouth. The flesh peeled back, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. String-Eye could see even the muscles behind the skin tearing and breaking until the gory fissures nearly reached his ears.
“Faster!” Sebastian shouted, and blood sprayed the front seats and windshield. “Faster, you rotten bitch! FASTER! You smelly old cu—” There was a thud and a deafening screech as one of the tires wrenched itself from the front axel. The front left corner of the car began to grind on the pavement, but before it had a chance to flip, they were at the wall.
“Haha, nice.” Sebastian said.
The car hit the wall and exploded in a tremendous fireball. The force of the blast propelled the two of them into a dark and vast expanse from which no light had ever returned. And then…

0620
String-Eye felt the ground rise up under him, and he slammed into it with such a tremendous force that white stars popped into his vision. That’s when he felt the pain. Sebastian was on top of him, pinning him down on his stomach while his teeth dug into this back. Sebastian’s cheeks were torn wide open, and his mouth resembled a snake as he sank his shark teeth into String-Eye’s back. String-Eye tried to move, but his mind was reeling. The car crash… Am I… What the fuck…? Sebastian’s teeth made contact with String-Eye’s spine, and as String-Eye realized what was happening clearly enough to begin to react, it was already too late. Sebastian’s teeth cracked through String-Eye’s spine, shattering the T12 and L1 vertebrae. String-Eye felt all the sensation leave his lower body. In a panic, he deployed his strings, but there was nothing more to the action than a desperate grasping. Sebastion, his teeth still lodged in String-Eye’s back, swiveled around and knelt on String-Eye’s neck. He grabbed String-Eye’s index and middle in one hand and his ring and pinky finger in the other. Grunting, Sebastian ripped String-Eye’s hand apart down to the wrist. The sound that tore its way from String-Eye’s lungs was guttural and animalistic.
Sebastian freed his jaws from String-Eye’s back only to bit down again, this time further up. As String-Eye flailed with his last functioning limb, even that was taken from his. Sebastian bit through the C7 and T1 vertebrae with an ugly crunch, and suddenly, String-Eye could only move his head and neck. Sebastian relinquished his grip on String-Eye and gazed down at his handiwork. String-Eye was groaning in pain, and he could tell by his expression that String-Eye was desperately trying to move his limbs just a fraction. Sebastian brought his face back down to String-Eye’s back, and with his tongue, teased at the bite marks he had left. He gave String-Eye’s back one long, languorous lick before sitting back on the floor. Sebastian had to catch his breath.
After a while, Sebastian had healed his face, and he noticed that String-Eye had gone pretty quiet. He wasn’t dead, though, String-Eye’s face would twitch occasionally, and he was still breathing heavily. Sebastian stood up and gazed around the room. The walls and furnishings had been destroyed in equal measure. No matter, though, at least Sebastian accomplished what he had come here for. He slung the P90, not empty, back onto his chest and strapped his pack to his back. He wasn’t a fan of having to fireman’s-carry String-Eye all the way to the drop point, but so be it. Sebastian threw String-Eye’s limp arms and legs over himself and hauled him up.
Sebastian had one last look around before leaving the house in bloody disarray.
“Home again, home again,” Sebastian muttered, “Jiggity-jig.”

A/N: I know the pace of the writing changes, but it was about 2K longer than it was here, so I blame the things which were removed for brevity. I hope you enjoyed it.

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It comes back in 3 seconds.

It regenerates one arrow in thirty seconds. The freezing lasts for 5 seconds.

The ice does not melt.

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Walker's response

Walker revealed himself behind a pillar, both hands in his pockets. His hood was pulled down, and the AV-8 drone was nowhere to be seen.

As he walked soundlessly down the stone steps, Jun turned around and began to stroll at a slow, leisurely pace along the pool, his back openly faced towards Walker. Whether as a sign of confidence in his abilities or trust in his opponent, Walker didn’t know.

A swift breeze passed by the two as Jun lifted his face upwards, gazing in the distance almost dreamily.

“The weather sure is beautiful, no? Clear, comfortable, and not a cloud in the sky.”

Next to him, Walker stared down at the pavement a few feet in front, for lack of interest in whatever he said. He wasn’t even paying attention, to begin with - except for the fact that there’s a fairly good amount of wind.

“Why side with the Empire?”

“I’m sorry?” Jun cast a side glance at the kid next to him. Walker’s gaze remained firmly planted to the ground.

“Why would you turn to them after having worked with the rebellion for so long? Were you always a spy, or are you just throwing away a perfectly good alliance just like that?”

“I have my reasons.” His nonchalant tone was barely lighter than the atmosphere around them.

“You were close enough to our leader. If your intention was that obvious, Apollo would’ve known.”

“I’m sure he will. Your question?”

Walker stopped in his tracks. “Something doesn’t add up. If you were that good at hiding things, you wouldn’t be so bold as to leak information to the Empire. You wouldn’t risk it.”

The prince, on the other hand, kept on walking as if nothing happened. There was silence before his next response.

“And if I am?”

“…You would betray the rebellion in no time after you joined, possibly causing collateral damage while you’re at it.” Walker guessed.

“Interesting.” The prince gave a polite smile, then turned his gaze again to the sky, this time deep in thought.

A series of mechanical clicks and whirrs sounded from afar, accompanied by the occasional noise of wings flapping as two strikingly different figures drew near from above. The AV-8 and white phoenix flew to their respective owners, then one perched on Jun’s shoulder as another hovered and flashed reports in front of Walker.

Walker’s heart sank. He was hoping the drone would find the documents by scanning the whole mansion - the closest discovery it had to offer instead was a few scattered papers lying at the bottom of a hastily opened briefcase.

Whoever took the documents, if they left these papers behind there’s no point for Walker to scavenge what’s left. He wondered if Viv would find an extremely detailed 3D holographic map of the mansion useful.

Probably not.

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you the answer you want.” Jun finally spoke. Walker turned his attention away from the drone. The prince continued.

“I’ll tell you this - I’m a leader of my nation. I never think or operate as one person as you would. Whatever I choose, it’s for the people of my land, and them only.”

He turned around. “The rebellion offered freedom. I wanted peace. I assume the next step would be to capture me and bring me in for questioning?”

“Yep.”

Jun’s eyes flickered between the tip of Walker’s hood and the ground before him, sizing him up before the fight.

“You can try…”

Right on cue, a gust of wind swept past the two of them, lifting Walker’s hood just enough to reveal a sharp glare; cautious, calculating, almost cold. Currents of air swirled around the prince, levitating him a few feet in the air as Walker’s sword and armor glowed bright cyan with energy.

Arms spread at waist level, Jun tensed his palms, as if about to perform a karate chop. Walker tightened his grip around the handle of a half-transformed katana, then, without warning, sprinted towards his target at full speed, leaping up at the last second with the blade high above his head.

Jun, on the other hand, was completely taken aback by the sheer inhuman speed and agility of his opponent; no guard, soldier, or elite force he had ever met can dash or even jump in what looked like a full set of armor - which is also the reason why he found his wind blades slicing through nothing the next moment after he aimed for Walker.

He looked up at his opponent high in the air, and for the first time in years, a fleeting trace of alarm struck through him. He had completely underestimated the kid, and a small part of him feared that he’s going to pay for that.

Walker saw Jun’s hands fly up by instinct, then willed the katana to grow heavier as he swung it violently clockwise instead of slicing straight down, using the momentum to spin in midair before landing. He darted to his opponent’s side, where Jun left an entire area exposed - and attacked.

Jun had barely spun around before the blade sliced up at his chest. It was only a couple inches away from his clothing when something pushed the weapon backward forcefully.

It wasn’t like hacking into a shield at all. The contact felt barely solid, which Walker guessed what only might be extremely dense air.

The momentum carried on, even intensified, as if the weapon was thrusting itself backward. Walker almost lost his grip then immediately tried to pull his weapon back, but no sooner than the thought registered had a blow swept him clean off his feet and sent him flying.

For half a second, everything became a blur as the ground hurtled towards him at the speed of a train.

He thought of tucking into a roll, but since the wind blade didn’t manage to cut through the armor, it launched him almost horizontally at high speed instead, there’s just not enough height - instinct urged him to stick an arm out in order to break the fall, in which Walker mentally yelled back that both hands are occupied with holding a weapon, and he would very likely stab himself if he tried.

It was quick thinking that saved Walker - the blade disappeared from the katana, leaving only a handle as a riot shield assembled itself just before the collision. Sure enough, the pavement came crashing with enough force to dislocate his shoulder, and the shield protected him from most of it.

Through the loud rumbling and scraping of metal against stone, Walker gripped the handle tightly as he half-slid the shield on the ground like a snowboard. He tumbled over, raising the shield up as another barrage of wind blades came flying at him.

A few dull and heavy clunks sounded as the wind blades brutally clashed against the shield, one after another. Walker’s arm immediately became numb from the impact. Still floating in midair, the prince advanced, which was another mistake.

Before Jun got the chance to speak, the faint cyan glow behind the shield suddenly erupted into a bloodred hue, then to his surprise, Walker threw the shield aside, his left hand holding a loaded Micro UZI aimed right at Jun’s face.

A glint of bright orange, a flash of blood, a jolt of panic, and a deafening three-second cacophony of gunfire sent a clear message to the crown prince: his life is at stake. The teenager standing before him was one to be feared by, and with good reason.

Blossoms of dark scarlet dotted the fabric somewhere at his midriff and began to grow. Somehow the pain didn’t even register, as though his whole body was delayed and numb to the attack.

From Walker’s point of view, the shield broke right after two bullets hit. As blood spattered on the grass under his opponent, Jun stumbled back and took flight in a short burst of wind as Walker continued to rain down the contents of an entire magazine at him. Then he summoned his drone, reloaded the gun, and immediately gave chase.

Both of them engaged in a dogfight of sharp turns and dives in the air, swerving and racing around the garden like fighter jets. Gunshots, clashes of metal, and more noises of pure destruction caused by stray blades and bullets broke out now and then throughout the chase.

Despite having to dodge a flurry of wind blades flying back at him, Walker’s experience at drone racing helped, and he proved unrelenting and almost impossible to shake off. The two continued until the prince had no choice but to disappear in a cloud of mist.

After turning back to normal, Jun glanced behind him while still flying at full speed - relief washed over him as Walker was finally nowhere to be seen. The feeling was short-lived, however, when he was ambushed from above right after he landed his first step on the grass. Tumbling on the ground, Jun tried to stab, punch and kick out of his way, but to no avail.

AV-8 deactivated Walker’s invisibility after he pinned down Jun in no time, revealing a dagger pointed at his neck.

“Just a heads-up, if you do escape there’s an army after you, and I’ll personally hunt you down without a mission if I have to. I say give up.”

Jun smiled bitterly, the corner of his mouth stained with blood.

“Well, that would be my choice to make, wouldn’t it?”

And then Walker collapsed rather awkwardly on the grass as Jun transformed into thin air for the second time.

After a few seconds, Walker spotted a white figure reappear on the other side of the garden, flying towards the roof of his mansion. Sitting on the grass, he realized it would be impossible to catch up on short notice - The drone will never be able to reach his target before he escapes, and even if he could teleport, Walker can’t run on air.

He thought of just sending AV-8 to track him before something flashed past his mind.

It’s an idea, sure, but it would be insane was the summary of it.

Without even thinking if he should, Walker already started setting up a sniper rifle on the spot - the one with the most firepower in his inventory. After aiming the rifle at the rooftop, he pulled the teleportation gadget loose from his wrist and held it in his left hand like a bomb detonator, then willed his digital sword to transform into an extremely long and thin chainwhip with a bullet attached to the end.

Walker took the bullet apart from the weapon, loaded it into the sniper rifle, and put the chains inside to fuse with the bullet. He took a deep breath - then pulled the trigger and activated teleportation at the same time.

Time slowed down drastically as the bullet shot out of the barrel in slow motion. Walker took a running start, then grasped the handle as it shot upwards along with the bullet, pulling Walker along.

Out of anything that Walker had done before, this had to be high up on the list of worst plans that worked impossibly well: Literally launching himself in the air using a bullet.

And right as Jun reached the rooftops, obliviously thinking he was safe again, Walker crashed into him and pinned him down on the spot.

“No.”

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I don’t know whether to read that in a heavy Scottish accent or Jacksepticeye voice

ouch.

image

Either that’s unintentional, or the swan doesn’t like him.

Also the last part of my response was my brain going completely off the rails at 4:50 am, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not-

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@sadboy9000 @w41k3r_19880 thanks for the responses guys! :sparkles:

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Yeah I’m not participating this round sorry :woozy_face:

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AHHHHH I FALL ASLEEEEEEP

Okay my response is halfway done soooo gonna finish it soon

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Yeah I figured, don’t worry about it!

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sigh

and of course it’s the one I was going to review

oh well I survived double Sydney in a day, I’ll do this in a week/month.

probably

maybe

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Aevyn vs. String-eye

Through the TV chatter, Aevyn looked at the glass of water. Then, to the back of String-eye’s head. Damn, he’s hotter in person… The boy tentatively reached out for the glass, bringing it close to his chest as he studied his surroundings. “A pity I have to capture you,” he muttered, taking a sip. “Ooh, this is some good tasting expensive shit-” Realizing that he was acting very unprofessionally, he immediately composed himself, clearing his throat and fixing his collar.

What do I do now? He’s awake. Aevyn bit his lip, nursing the glass of water in his hand. “Dude, are you even worried at all?”

No response.

String-eye kept his eyes on the TV, completely ignoring the boy, cigarette smoke wafting into the air. “I’m going to get second-hand smoke thanks to you,” he complained loudly.

Okay then, this is going to be frustrating. It’s gonna be a one-sided conversation, I guess. Should I just try to annoy him into going along with me? I hate to have to fight with someone as handsome as him.

Aevyn gathered all his courage, staring at the back of String-eye’s head. “Where should I put this when I’m done?” A finger pointed to the sink. “Right, thanks. So shall we get started?”

Still no response.

The boy released a sigh, stretching his arms out. “Alright, we shall start then.” He began with joining String-eye on the couch, blinking at the TV screen. “So… whatcha watching?” Aevyn patiently waited for an answer but got nothing. He changed the subject. “Well, since I kinda know about your string abilities and eye stuff, not to mention that name of yours… You’re starting to really remind me of Spider-Man, ya know? With the psh-psh thingy he does?” The boy added some gestures for more spice.

String-eye barely changed his expression, keeping a mix of bored and calm on his face. Maybe a flicker of irritation flashed across his eyes. Aevyn didn’t know. All he wanted to do was try not to engage in combat with the string dude… not yet at least.

“No? Do you not watch movies or anything? Like come on, you got a big ass TV right there! Don’t tell me you don’t even have Netflix or Disney+!” The boy huffed out in annoyance. “You know what, your villain name sounds kinda stupid. Like, what even is String-eye? What does that even represent? It’s literally both of your abilities in your name!” Aevyn paused, “no offense by the way. You should really come up with a more edgier one, that’s just my opinion though.”

The boy waited for something to happen, but there was just silence. String-eye didn’t even need to do anything to show how annoyed he was. Aevyn? Well, he was slightly disappointed, just because he couldn’t get the man to talk. How do I get this dude back?

“Hey, I got an idea. Let’s play rock, paper, scissors. If I lose, I leave you alone and go back home. If you lose, you have to go along with me without a fight. How does that sound?”

Aevyn swore he heard crickets, even in broad daylight. “Fine, let’s go. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” He brought out his fist, waiting to see String-eye’s hand. He got nothing, as expected. “Okay… so you’re not going down without a fight, are ya?”

The man didn’t bother replying. Aevyn rolled his eyes, grabbing the remote and switching the TV off. “Let’s fight.”

In an instant, the boy was turned upside down, finding himself hanging by the foot. Staring back at a second String-eye, “so… which one are you? The clone version or the-”

Aevyn squeaked out in horror as a knife almost went through him, swinging back just in time before the blade was thrust forward. “Get me out of this thing at least!” the boy cried as String-eye pulled the string back. Aevyn was dragged out from the ceiling and slammed onto the floor, tasting blood as he bit down on his tongue. “Ouch!”

He couldn’t even take a break, scrambling away when a blade was thrown at his head. Eyes widened and heart pumping, the boy felt alive, springing to action. Wincing back the pain, he reached for his twin daggers, relishing the cool, familiar touch. He dodged a fatal blow, blocking it with a blue-tinted blade. “Carmen’s got this,” he winked.

Disappearing into the shadows and out of the metal string, Aevyn appeared out of the couch’s shadow and swung for the real String-eye’s body, sitting on the couch. He ducked as the projection released the string, aiming to tie the boy up in it. Aevyn jumped down for the kill but felt a sharp pain slice his wrist before he could stab the man. The whir of the string echoing in his ears.

String-eye was back in his body, glaring at the boy. Aevyn inspected his wrist, finding the cut not too deep. “What is that string even made of?” he murmured. He melted into the man’s shadow, appearing behind him to feel a crunch as an elbow hit his nose.

“Oh god…” Aevyn groaned, covering his nose with a hand. “I hope you didn’t break it cause it doesn’t feel very good.” String-eye turned around, twirling a dagger in his hand. “Man, you have really good eyesight, don’t you? Maybe that’s why you’re called that.”

Aevyn kicked the man’s hand, climbing on top of his body and pressing him down. He was careful about the bracelet, covering it with his foot as they both struggled to overpower each other. String-eye twisted underneath the boy, focused on getting out from underneath. “Whoops, should’ve paid attention to this instead,” Aevyn grinned as he hopped back.

The man’s couch suddenly dropped down on him, pinning String-eye down. Then, everything went silent. I didn’t kill him, did I? the boy panicked. He knelt down to see if his target was breathing before feeling a string wrap around his ankle. “Fuck-” Aevyn was once again dragged onto the floor, finding the projection pulling him back.

“Damn, I kinda forgot about you,” the boy smiled weakly. He disappeared into a shady corner, escaping the string’s hold and collecting himself back. He watched as the projection stood with absolute stillness, then walking over to calmly get his real body out. With a grunt, the couch was flipped over, revealing a relatively fine-looking String-eye.

Aevyn bounced out from the shadows, swinging his dagger at the projection’s head, watching as it missed, with fake string-eye tilting his head away. The boy clenches his teeth, fucking 360-degree sight. he flipped out of the way as the whir of a string hits the ground, narrowly missing its target. The projection rolled it back, diving in to stab Aevyn with its dagger.

They danced. A set of acrobatic moves and footwork, trying to get the upper hand. The boy was able to slash away at fake String-eye’s arm which didn’t affect him much, earning a bad cut on his leg from the string in return. Aevyn panted, noting that he would need at least one more hit before the man would need to return to his real body. One more hit. Just one more hit, he swallowed. Aevyn closed his eyes, dissolving into the dark shadows. He stayed quiet, hiding behind the projection’s shadow, waiting for the right time to stab him.

Now!

The boy materialized, immediately pushing his dagger into fake String-eye’s heart through the back, watching as the projection dispersed. Aevyn turned to see the real String-eye get into an upright position and stretched out his arm to release the deadly string, that was until the boy froze the man’s entire body. He relished the sight of watching the man’s eye widen and then suddenly freezing in place. “Sorry, orders are orders. I gotta go quick since I don’t want your projection to ambush me again.”

Aevyn picked up frozen String-eye with no problem, happily teleporting outside.

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You got this Wolfy!

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nice! thanks for sending in your response! :sparkles:

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Nerfing time :smiling_imp:

If you really really hate any of the changes, let me know and I’ll see what I can adjust!! But keep in mind that if I make one thing stronger, I’m gonna have to weaken something else.


I’ll start with the weapons:

Didn’t need to weaken this one!! Just added some details. His Trident is made out of very durable ice. When he throws his Ice Trident it will return to his hand within 3 seconds, even dragging along anything in its path.

Again, no need to touch it!!

Okay, so this one I did end up knocking down a bunch—just because weapons can’t be too powerful, especially if you’ve used all four of your ability slots. Marsh carries his bow on his back. This bow will freeze anyone he fires his arrow at for 1 second. He can hold 7 arrows in his quiver. His quiver regenerates its arrows at a rate of 1 arrow per minute.


Moving onto Special Abilities:

Marsh has 5 2-ft long ice spears at his disposal. The spears will shatter on impact. The spears fly where his palm faces. He can use these spears at any moment in battle, provided he waits at least 10 seconds between uses. His fatigue will increase slightly with each spear. If/when all the spears have been thrown, Marsh’s fatigue will have increased by a total of 50%.

Oh, boy, did I need to nerf this one. He turns his arm into a circular ice shield. The shield can take 4 strong strikes. He can summon and dismiss the ice shield at will, but it can only take 4 strikes over the course of the entire fight.

He can turn the floor around him into a path of ice 2 feet in diameter so he can skate on it for 5 seconds. He skates at 30 mph, and it also slows down enemies in his path. The ice path disappears once the 5 seconds are up. Marsh can use this ability up to 3 times per battle.

Marsh can create a circular ice arena up to 50 ft in diameter that lasts for 10 seconds. When in the arena, all enemies are slowed, and he gains a +1 boost in Strength and Stamina. He can also skate on the arena’s surface. Once the arena has dissipated, Marsh will be extremely fatigued for 20 seconds.


I also figured that it would be best to add sort of a notice to Marsh’s form, just because he has a lot of magical ice-based abilities but that exact nature of that ice isn’t really explained.

—While any ice created by Marsh won’t melt naturally over time like normal ice, it can still be melted by other means—


Please reply to this post letting me know what you think!! If everything’s all good, we can welcome Marsh into the Colosseum right away. If you have any questions/want anything changes, just @ me and let me know.

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That’s good thanks for balancing my character!

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No problem :slight_smile:

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P R I N C E ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎M A R S H

C R U I S E

A S S I G N E D - R A N K :T R A R I

A B I L I T Y - T Y P E : M I X E D

R E F E R E N C E - N U M B E R : # 6 8

@Zozucan

S T A N D - B Y

FO R - Y O U R

F I R S T - O P P O N E N T

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@Zozucan

You’re assigned to the prompt opponent STRING-EYE. Read over them to get a grasp of their abilities & the environment you’re in!
I’ll link the prompt opponent below, along with the Q&A post including the questions other users have asked about them. This is updated frequently as new questions are asked, so check over it once every few days if you haven’t already sent your response.

Your due date is later than the others, so you’ll have over 7 days from today.
Your due date is the 16TH JULY 11.59PM GMT (UK) time.

If you ever lose these posts, simply go to the waiting list at the top of the thread, and click the link to the opponent. It’ll take you right there!

I suggest bookmarking the waiting list since everything is linked for you there.

Otherwise, ask me anything if you’re unsure.

7 Likes