Mini-Grand 5108 [simul_complete]

Mini-Grand 5108 [simul_complete]
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Solaris.

Jetsam's "friends" wasted no time in starting their assault of the dynamic duo, Jetsam having to dodge a fiery punch while Arckal narrowly avoided the sharp stab of the dragonesque creature's arm.
Arckal was actually pleased at this turn of events. Multidimensional bullshit, crazy asylums, blob monsters, viruses and robots? That was weird! Nothing he'd ever done had led to that kind of stuff, and certainly never out of the movies. But a good old fist fight? Yea, he could deal with that.

"So," Arckal took the missed jab as an opening to place his foot in the dragonesque's gut, "where'd you guys meet?"

Thanks to the various elements coming at him, Jetsam was having a slightly more difficult time. Luckily, it wasn't enough that he wasn't able to cringe at the sing-songy tone that his "companion" was taking. "Really? Is this really the time?"

His opponent dazed, Arckal turned around and shrugged, "They don't seem to mind, come on, it's only a fist fight."

His answer was the fire ball sent at his head.

While the fire ball went over a ducking Arckal and into the scaly creature behind him, Jetsam used the distraction to launch a well-placed fist into his opponents gut. Breathing a bit heavily, Jetsam stared at the smugly grinning Arckal with contempt.
"Only a fist fight? Only?!"

"Hey, we won didn't we?"

Before Jetsam could continue to hate Arckal, a very special motorcycle went over and parked itself on top of the punched out human. Hilux was very excited to see people who were not on the staff of the facility, and as everyone else was running around, he was rather happy to see someone standing as it meant that he could probably get them to ride him. He really liked it when people rode on him because it usually meant that he got to talk to them and they would ask him advice and he would give such great advice and then they would tell him to shut up and then it was less nice but still good.
"Hey there! I am a 2001 Toyota Hilux. You can call me Hilux. Wanna take me for a spin?"

Arckal was ecstatic at the prospect of another motorcycle to drive and immediately got on, telling Jetsam to join him. Revving up, and zooming through the Asylum's halls to where his escape lay, Arckal once more felt in charge. Things were looking simple again. He had a motorcycle, he was in a fist fight, all he really needed to make the image complete was a dame. With hope, he wouldn't have to deal with more blob or horror or anything, just riding off and going home. Yea.
That would be cool. Then everything would be in the past. The fate of Nyoka, Ka, Shieldman, Micheal Bay, Reuben...
Even the thrill of the ride couldn't stop him from thinking about them. What would happen to Reuben if one of them wasn't around to die? Would he be trapped in this hell hole forever? No. He had to focus on the ride. The thrill. And hopefully, freedom.

He was so preoccupied with these line of thoughts, that he didn't really notice the state Jetsam was in. In a word, he was dumbstruck. Literally struck by an excess amount of dumb. He could take quite a few things, and he had certainly been to weirder places, but something about this whole thing was just driving him mad. He couldn't really pin-point just what part of it threw him off the edge, and that was part of it.
Was it Arckal's idiocy? His brashness? His misplaced optimism and naivety? The talking motorcycle? The talking motorcycle that introduced itself as a truck? The talking motorcycle that they were riding on that somehow didn't think that carrying two people in the way that it was meant it was not a fucking truck? The way that Arckal just brushed that ridiculous statement off and started to ride like a school girl?
What was it? Why? When would it be over? How long until they reached his salvation?
Jetsam didn't know.
And maybe, that was the worst part.

Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

Doctor Heinrich Skalpell was not a man with a nervous disposition. It did not do in this job and perhaps more specifically in this particular asylum to be squeamish. He’d been here for nine years and while he had gotten used to dealing with patients no matter how insane they might be, he had never got used to the nurses. The sickening squelch of their slick flesh writhing in close proximity made his skin crawl even now. He was stood in patient R’s room, his pen pressed against his lip as he looked thoughtfully down at his notebook, or at least this was what he had been doing, he had sort of frozen in that position the moment he had realized there was a nurse standing directly behind him. She had not announced herself, he had not heard her enter, she made no noise whatsoever, but he knew she was there. She was not going anywhere. He knew that. When he turned around she would be there standing a little too close for comfort. He would have liked to stand right where he was for as long as it took her to leave with about the same fanfare as she had arrived, except for two things. Firstly he was a medical professional and Nurse Agatha or Nurse Trudy or whoever was likewise and it was his job to work with her for the well being of their patients, no amount of childish fear would get in his way. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, she would never just turn and walk away. It would never happen. So with reluctance he turned to face her. It was every bit as traumatising as he knew it would be.

“Nurse…” Skalpell squinted at the nurse’s nametag “Bertha, after spending an extensive amount of time with this patient, learning about his traumatic childhood, his identity issues and his severe recurring hallucinations. It is my professional recommendation that he undergoes an extreme course of eradication therapy, though preferably without me in the room.” It was easy to be sarcastic towards the nurses so long as found a particularly fascinating spot on the floor in front of you before you did so. Nurse Bertha did not respond for a good minute or so, but this was not unusual. He liked to think that it took the nurses a little longer to process what they were told because it was a hell of a lot better than any other explanation for their attitude around him. Eventually she turned around and walked briskly out into the corridor. She walked to the supplies cupboard that was a few doors down and returned wheeling ahead of her a machine that was all knobs and dials and wires and spikes and prongs and valves and levers. It was splattered with thick globs of dried blood; crusted and cracked. One of the wheels of the monstrous apparatus squeaked as it was pushed into the room. It made him wince. In silence the machine was plugged into the wall and slowly it hummed to life.

Doctor Skalpell was at that moment hanging back around the door, wishing that he did not need to be here for this. Wishing that Bertha had the expertise to locate and eradicate the troublesome parts of the patients psyche on her own. Eradication was a necessary measure but one he seldom relished. She began hooking the sobbing blob up the machine, but got no further. There was a series of clicks and clangs as the heavy doors down the corridor were flung open. Skalpell was thankful for something else to occupy his attention and so stuck his head out into the corridor. The idea that this might have been some unusual but entirely legitimate procedure being carried out by the nurses quickly evaporated. Some of the more recent patients, those who had not yet undergone their eradications emerged from their rooms; some urgently, tripping over their feet in their desperate bid for freedom, some out of simple curiosity, and some with a sense of satisfaction and a fire in their eyes. Upon sighting the doctor, Patient G, a heavily built man with grey skin and a horn protruding from over his right eye, cracked his knuckles, and strode in his direction, inciting the gathered crowd of inmates as he did so.

Doctor Skalpell for a moment struggled with a difficult choice. Be beaten to a pulp by an angry crowd of patients, or lock himself in a room with Bertha. It took him a second but he eventually conceded he would rather be in here with the nurse. He slammed the door shut, hurriedly fished his keyring out of his pocket and fumbled for the right key. Outside the patients that were inclined to do him some grievous bodily harm picked up their pace. The lock clicked shut and Doctor Skalpell stepped back from the bars just in time to avoid being grabbed.

Reuben remained indifferent about the situation throughout.


Patient Y stumbled out of her cell on hesitant feet. Her hair was long and blonde; it hung ragged and unwashed almost covering her blank face. A band of fabric was tied around where her eyes ought to have been, her other features were just bare. She was wearing a straitjacket locked over a knee length white dress. She had not moved in a long time and she was a little uncertain on her bare feet. It had been years since this door had been unlocked. Years she had spent isolated, cut off from the world in about as literal a sense as it is possible to be. Honestly a part of her had welcomed it. Being left to rot was better than the constant eradications.

Upon her arrival she had been told that what she believed was her life so far was nothing more than a hallucination. Her protests otherwise were ignored, treated as further signs of delusion. They never countered her arguments, how she could see using their senses, how she could speak with their voices. They didn’t even try. They just sent one of those things in to perform an eradication on her, to unwrite her mind. It hadn’t had any effect. Well that was not strictly true; it had been agonising. It had been the most painful experience Y had ever suffered through, but it had not achieved the stated goal; to alter her psyche to their liking. She hadn’t been surprised.

Before she’d ever come to the Asylum Y had been part of a ritual and had been fused with a goddess of healing. She was a wellspring of healing energies and any damage done to her mind fixed itself as quick as they could cause it. Eventually they had tired of performing the same procedure again and again with no success. By that point Y was just happy to be left alone in the emptiness. She had despaired, giving up in the face of overwhelming futility.

And she had remained there, never really expecting to emerge from that dingy cell again, until something odd had happened. Suddenly she’d become aware of a pair of minds being dumped into the Asylum. That was of course noteworthy but she would never have given it a second thought if it wasn’t for the peculiar nature of one of the minds. It was not so much a single mind as a conglomeration of minds, one far more prominent than the rest. She’d done a little curious poking and prodding and it had become apparent that it was in pain; in real pain, not the kind that these doctors treated. It was this thought that had galvanized her; pulled her out of the darkness. For the first time in years there was someone here she could actually help, someone who she could make well again, and luckily for her today was the day someone had unlocked every door in the entire wing.

Y, no her name was Ywie damn it, walked out into the corridor, using the eyes of the others as her own. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a motorbike echoed through the busy corridors.


Arckal sped through the corridors with his wide eyed passenger clinging on for dear life. If he’d been aware of Arckal’s particular driving style there was pretty much no chance Jetsam would have agreed to ride the delusional motorcycle with him. Arckal dodged and weaved through inmates, skidding around corners with his knee scraping along the tiled floor. Some particularly brave inmates wielding makeshift weapons attempted to attack the pair, but they were stopped short by Arckal’s foot delivered to their shins at high speeds. Those who had more wits about them just got out of the way.

“Excuse me?” Jetsam said. He frowned. He hadn’t said that. Well at least he hadn’t intended to.

“What do you want?” Arckal replied as they skidded beneath a swooshing cloud of musical notes.

“Nothing.” Jetsam replied. “I can help your friend; at least I think he’s your friend. He showed up at the same time as you did. I just need your help.” There was a momentary pause, and then a clarification. “That wasn’t me.”

“Yeah,” Arckal replied thoughtfully, “didn’t sound much like you.”

“Come to F Block.” Jetsam said. “Look out for the cloud of fireflies muttering to itself. You can’t miss it.”

Arckal skidded to a stop and idled thoughtfully, watching the corridor ahead as unspeakable things in the outfits of nurses bustled this way and that. Ahead of them, somewhere in this messed up place, was the portal that would take them out of this battle. Somewhere behind him an opportunity offered by a mysterious disembodied voice to maybe help Reuben. It didn’t take Arckal long to make his decision. Reuben might be a crazy blob thing but he couldn’t in good conscience leave him here forever. Hilux’s back tyre left a semicircular skidmark on the yellowing tiles and then before Jetsam had a chance to object they were screeching off back in the direction they had come from.
fyck phytybyckyt
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Solaris.

So far it looks like march will be a season of ending
Let's have a toast to hopefully bringing this Minigrand to a wonderful one
[Image: 00m22.gif]
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Solaris.

"Thank you for your promise of aid, Sir Cedric, with the help of your group I am sure that those wretched elders will be defeated. We shall meet soon."

With the sentient cloud of fireflies off to wherever her delusions would lead, Arckal, Jetsam, and Hilux ceased their trot at the sight of the ragged healer.
<font color="#8DB6CD">"Hi. The trip was okay then? Good, great."

Hello, the name's Arckal Stich, this is Hilux, and this is... Arckal moved close to Ywie and whispered, "Actually he's been pretty cagey with his real name, buuuuut I could have sworn that one of those weirdo's called him Jetsman so I don't exactly blame him." Arckal cleared his throat and continued, "So miss..."
"Miss Ywie, what exactly can you do for Reuben? He's sort of a blob. I wasn't even sure he was Reuben anymore."
"A blob?"
"A monster-hivemind creature, synthetic, Iiiii wasn't really paying attention to the details. It is your basic B-Movie plot."
"Really, it sounds like you've been through quite a bit... I don't know if we have time but..."

While Arckal began to retell the story of his last few hours, Jetsam continued to sulk and muse on his situation. So far his dealings with Arckal hadn't exactly been great, but they were miles better than how it was before they met. There wasn't really anything all that terrible and reminiscent of his oppressor's touch, (Jetsam hadn't seen or heard of a nurse yet) and come to think of it, even the way he got here wasn't how he was used to. Could he be free from his oppressors eye? Could his freedom be within his grip?

It was a hope he had had before, one always lost at the final moment. Either way, he felt like he could deal with Arckal for a while longer, supposing that that he at least owed him one for the fight.


Oh god damn it the motorcycle is trying to get my attention again.
Jetsam swallowed up his feelings, and once more attempted to converse with the otherkin motorcycle. "Yes?"

"I was wondering what you were thinking about, that way I could use my speakers to play the appropriate music."

By now, Jetsam knew better than to try to convince Hilux that he didn't have any of the features of a Toyota Hilux. "N-no, that's fine. I just want to be alone for bit, so if you could just leave for a while longer, that would be nice."

If Hilux could look dejected, he would, "Oh... okay, I guess no one ever needs my help anyway."

As the motorcycle began to sputter away, Arckal and Ywie had finished briefing each other.

The easiest part would be the crowded ride to Rueben's room. Ywie had sensed the mob outside of his room and almost worst of all, the nurse inside his room. They would ride up to his block, and then split up. Arckal would distract the mob with his general action-ness, while Jetsman, (Jetsam frowned at being called such, but made no corrections), Ywie, and Hilux would ride in and either heal or escape with Reuben, depending on the nurse's condition.

A simple plan followed by them escaping to the transit room and hopefully leaving this wretched asylum forever. Assuming that there wasn't some spanner in the works or another kind of complication, everything would go perfectly.

It certainly helped that at the moment, Asteria was somewhat trapped. The trickster ghost's attempts at returning to the spiritual and returning to her observation of the dynamic duo and their antics had failed miserably, almost as if she was locked inside the woman's mind. It was terrifying. Truly trapped, without knowledge to why or how. If she wasn't trying to avoid the attention of others in her stuck state, she would have screamed.

Arckal could have sworn he heard something.
Walking the halls in search for some sort of weapon, to help him distract the mob, he wandered, following a voice that he wasn't actually sure was there...

Sometime later, Jetsam squinted as Arckal walked back from his search with nothing except a flowing blue cape. "Is that all? You didn't find anything else in this loony bin? Really?"

Arckal smiled, "This is all I'll need, trust me." With a thumbs up and a wink he got on Hilux and motioned for everyone else to follow.

"Oh geez, wow this is starting to get hard, lady how much do you weigh? You look like I should be able to carry like, twenty of you but wow I think I'm edging my limit here."

Arckal revved Hilux's engine and began to drive forward, "Come on Hilux, that's rude."
"It's probably all Jetsman's baggage." Ywie chuckled at her joke.
"But he isn't carrying any luggage!"
Jetsam just sighed.

Everyone knows that moment in the movie. The Action Sequence. The one where the hero starts off and starts to go wild and more or less blows up, kills, or saves everything. As Jetsam drove off to circle to the other side with Ywie to save his blobby 'friend,' Arckal Stich, prepared his stride to the mob attempting to assault the doctor inside. As his newly acquired cape flowed behind him, he drew closer and closer to the mob, trying to come up with a proper quip.

"Hey, I know you are all in a crazy bin, but you must have one hell of a disease if you are going to mess with me!"

There was silence as the individual members of the mob attempted to process each and every thing that was wrong with that line. Arckal stepped back and reached behind his back, staring directly at the largest of the mob members. Taking out a sword with his right hand and a shotgun with the left, he was ready.

"I hope that the practical portion of the test makes up for the verbal one."

Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.


In The Asylum it was pretty much inevitable that you would succumb to insanity. No matter how sane you are when you arrive, soon you will be reduced to a quivering shadow of your former self whether through the sheer soul-crushing hopelessness of the situation or through the dastardly machinations of the doctors and their invasive treatments. When the doors had opened most patients first steps out of their cells had been tentative, fearful of what they would find out there. But the guttural roar of the half-oni Greyve echoed down the corridors and marshalled those fragile fragmented minds, primed them for battle. The patients that swarmed around the door to Reuben’s cell were almost animalistic in their fervour to get at the doctor inside. The bars of the cell shook under their weight; chips of plaster fell from the doorframe, dislodged by the ferocity of the assault. Doctor Heinrich Skalpell fretted as he stared at the feral patients; this siege was not one that could last. The bars would come toppling down and he would be left at the mercy of those who he had honestly only ever wanted to help.

Only a couple of patients heeded Arckal’s theatrical approach. The salvo of shotgun blasts and bloody squelch of bodies hitting the floor seemed to draw their attention much more effectively. Within moments their attention shifted, and they advanced down the narrow corridor on the stuntman and his retinue.

“I’ll hold them off!” Arckal bellowed in between shotgun blasts. “You get in there and help Rueben.” Ywie nodded her blank face and stumbled from the motorcycle. Though she was now free of the confinement of the straightjacket she had been forced to wear for so long she still looked unsteady upon her feet.

“Jetsman, help her.” Arckal said, opening fire upon an advancing dinosaur. Blood splattered across the walls and feathers hung in the air for a second. Jetsam was only too keen to get out of Arckal’s immediate proximity, and so heedless of the mangling of his name, he darted to Ywie’s side.

Arckal’s shotgun clicked empty and it was quickly discarded. He revved up the motorcycle and stared down the advancing crowd of crazies for just long enough to look awesome, and then, cool pose accomplished he screeched off down the corridor. One hand held tightly to the crossbar, the other held the sword and was brought around in a wide arc through the horde of infuriated patients. For a moment it seemed he was abandoning the pair, then on the far side of the crowd, and of Reuben’s cell, he skidded to a stop and the enraged mob started back down the corridor after him. In a couple of moments a path to Reuben’s cell was opened. The door opened and Doctor Heinrich Skalpell fled down the corridor, past Ywie and Jetsam. It was the fastest he had ever moved and it was debatable whether he even noticed the pair as he passed them.

“Come on Jetsman.” Jetsam felt his mouth moving again as Ywie’s words came out. With a sigh he put his arm around the girls’ shoulder and started towards Reuben’s cell. “Could you, you know… not do that?” He asked. This question went unanswered as they stumbled into the cell. Probably the only thing that stopped them involuntarily screaming at the sight of the nurse was that Ywie had no mouth with which to scream, and Jetsam quickly reasoned that nurse hadn’t noticed them yet and if they didn’t make a noise there was a chance she wouldn’t notice them at all.

Heedless of the commotion, Nurse Bertha had continued hooking Reuben up to the machine. Seemingly hundreds of cables extended into the blob in a manner that would have been more grotesque and disconcerting had it been happening to something approximating a human. The equally inhuman nurse was standing behind the machine, and her hands were working the dials and levers. Before Ywie and Jetsam had a chance to do anything, she had activated the machine, and suddenly everything was drowned out. The distant sound of the braying mob, the sound of Arckal slashing and cutting his way through them, the unpleasant slithering squelching of the nurse; all of it drowned out by the drone of the sadistic machine and the agony of Reuben’s screams, interspersed with sobs.

Ywie panicked. In a sudden snap decision she shoved Jetsam at the nurse. He collided with her (it?) and they fell to the floor, sprawled on top of one another. Jetsam hurriedly tried to disentangle himself from Bertha while his skin tried to crawl from his body. Ywie dashed over to Reuben and started ripping the cables from his body. The screams abated slightly, they were no longer seemed to engulf the entire world, but not enough to stop the overwhelming sense of panic. Here was someone she could help and every second the treatment went on, that potential for help slipped further and further away. She laid her hands on the blob and strained as though focusing would force the healing energies contained within her body to act faster. Jetsam was on his feet and messing with the machinery, desperately trying to end the cacophonous wailing. After a minute or so of random button mashing he managed to find the off switch. The screams stopped and there was a moment of ringing silence. He breathed a sigh of relief, until very suddenly he remembered the nurse. There she was, rising from the ground. She looked different, as though she were taller, more inexplicably horrible, and with a look of intense hatred in what passed for a face. Jetsam stumbled back to the doorway and slammed it shut.

Ywie’s panicking mind calmed somewhat when Reuben’s anguish ceased. It allowed her to regain her composure and actually think about what she was doing. Ever since the ritual Ywie was little more than a shell; a container for astonishing amounts of healing energy in a very literal sense. She grabbed a scalpel and with a moment’s hesitation, she plunged it into her chest. Traces of sparkling blue energy spilled out of the gap, like gas dissipating into the air. She widened the cut and more and more energy leaked out, focusing itself and flowing into the blob. This continued for a minute or so, and Ywie started feeling a little weak. She had healed people before, but none of them had ever taken as much energy out of her as this was doing. She collapsed to he knees and wondered whether she had made a mistake. She tried to stem the wound with her dress, but her healing energy was flowing thick and fast and soon she didn’t feel strong enough to even fight against it.

Helplessly she knelt and watched as someone emerged from the goo. He had shining silver eyes, shoulder length black hair and an immaculately trimmed beard. He looked very confused.

“For a second there I thought that damn blob had actually beaten me.” Azazel Deathbringer announced. He looked around, at the cell he found himself in, at the faceless woman with blue energy flowing out of her, at the monstrous thing over there in a nurse’s dress, at the fact that his armour hadn’t been reconstituted with the rest of him. “What the hell is going on here?” He demanded. The nurse turned from where it had been trying to break down the door and focused its disquieting attention on the naked bearded swordsman. Azazel did feel a certain nervousness in the pit of his stomach under the abomination’s glare, but he was not the kind of man who would let that deter him. “You there, tell me what happened to the Extravagant? Is this another battle?” The nurse pounced, digging her long syringe like claws into his vulnerable flesh. Azazel retaliated breathing a volley of swords in her direction.

When Sir Franklin Crow emerged from the blob Azazel and the nurse had come to a sort of stalemate. Any injury she inflicted upon the bearded swordsman was healed instantaneously, but conversely he didn’t seem to be able to do any damage to the nurse. The floor was littered with swords and the barred doorway had finally collapsed out into the corridor.

“Hey guys.” Sir Crow said. “I think it would be really cool if you were to join my party and we all teamed up to find a way out of this mess.” Neither Azazel nor the nurse paid him the slightest bit of attention and in the end, Sir Crow dodged past them into the corridor beyond to look for some bagels to eat.


If anyone who had prior knowledge of the Reuben’s exploits had been watching the procession of people being reconstituted from the rapidly diminishing blob, they might have at this point assumed that people were being reconstructed in reverse chronological order. They would have been incorrect. As the consciousness that had gained most of a foothold in the blob Reuben was the very last to emerge from it. The second to last was Simon Vex; a scientist from Neuge Research Station, the person responsible for the manufacture of the blob. The scene that greeted him upon his resurrection was a cramped cell, containing one dead polar bear and an unknown quantity of eclectically dressed people. Scratch that, an unknown quantity of eclectically dressed co-workers; people he worked with every day at Neuge, but in bizarre mismatching clothes that they’d never be seen dead in at the lab.

Standing directly in front of him a pair of people he didn’t recognise were whispering to one another and glancing down at the corpse of a faceless girl. No, wait, Simon noticed her body moving slightly; her head rising as if to affix him with a blank stare. She was still alive, just about. One of the two men, the one surrounded by a slight golden glow, regarded him critically and shook his head. Simon thought he was about to return to his conversation when he reached into a cape and pulled from it a t-shirt and jeans. He passed them to Simon, who gratefully slipped them on.

“What is going on?” He asked.

“We’re waiting on someone.” Arckal said, as though that answered all his questions. There were too many Neuge scientists to be contained within the small cell; they had spilled out into the corridor beyond. Here they stood around talking to one another about what it was like to be eaten alive by a blob and then reconstituted and how this technology could potentially be repurposed as a means of saving space on long distance travel. Azazel Deathbringer in a turtleneck and sweatpants was guarding the door to the maintenance cupboard where he had finally managed to contain the nurse. The door shook and buckled angrily behind him. Sir Franklin Crow was standing around in an anorak and shorts, eating bagels and not being very useful to anyone.

Finally Reuben emerged from the blob. There was at this point very little of it left; just about enough to fill an ice cream tub.

“Reuben!” Arckal exclaimed, despite the intervening madness, he easily recognised the kid.

“Sunglow.” Reuben said sadly. There was an emptiness in his eyes and it was probably only moments before he broke down crying. “Everything is wrong. I just want to go back to Oceania.”

“It’s okay Reuben.” Arckal said. “Jetsman here knows a way out of this place. We’ll be out of here in no time.” He looked around at the gathered Neuge Scientists, who had stopped in their idle chatter. He raised his voice: “All of us. We’re all getting out of here.”


Elsewhere in the facility Asteira had hid in one of the empty cells rather than risk it in the corridors outside. Her heart, well not technically her heart but the heart of the body she was occupying at the moment, was pounding. She was stuck. No matter what she tried she couldn’t seem to extricate herself from this body. It was becoming a problem. She had never been claustrophobic, but this confinement, this inability to abandon a body as soon as it has served its usefulness; she imagined that this was how it must have felt.

It had taken Asteira a while to come to this conclusion, and even longer to marshal the nerve to follow through with the idea. She had to get out of this body and she didn’t care about the consequences. If she was to die, correction, if this body was to die then she would be free to make her escape. She hoped so anyway. She’d never done this before. She raised the scalpel, and ever theatrically she plunged it into her chest. She collapsed to the floor of the cell, her crimson blood spilling out staining the white tiles red. It took longer than she’d expected. She probably should have slit her throat Asteira mused.

A figure strolled into the room and looked down at the bloody corpse that lay there.
“What a god-damned senseless waste o’ life.” He said; his voice an inelegant drawl. The man flicked the butt of a cigarette into the corner of the room, did what he had to do and was about to move on when he seemed to notice something intangible. “Well what do we have here?” Mister Saturday mused to himself.

fyck phytybyckyt
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Solaris.


The mob of freed people, led by Jetsam, waded through the halls of the asylum. The walk was not one without events, there was the return of the dragonlike person and his friend (once more knocked unconscious), an encounter with another nurse (dropped down off one of the rails), and some odd old man who who almost turned Hilux into bread (convinced that there were demons down the hall, moments later they heard a roar of pain (it wasn't from the old man)).

<font color="#408000">Nothing was truly difficult to overcome until he came back into the picture. At first it was faint, just some clanking, it could have been anything really. Then it started to get louder and louder, attracting the attention of some of the scientists, discerning them. As they expressed their concerns to the glowing pack leader, there was a ghostly shout of glee as Dorukumets smashed through a wall in front of them.

"Aha, there you are!" The arrogant ghost pointed his blade at Rueben, "You... are different than I recall you being, but I see it in your spirit that you are the same, the one that I am to be searching for. Come with me. Now."

Before Rueben could react, Arckal jumped back, grabbed Hilux, and took out a similar sword as the one that the knight wielded. He revved up the motorcycle and swung the sword, meeting Dorukumets' head on.

Taking advantage of the distracted knight, the others moved quickly, hoping to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Most of them had already died once, and it wasn't something they wanted to experience again.

Knocking himself back from the collision, Arckal shouted at the floating knight, "Hey, nobrain, if you want to get to my friend, you'll have to get through me." Arckal and Hilux then landed on the rails a floor below.

"And what? You are down there, and I am up here, completely free to grab this Rueben all by myself, without any opposition."

"Yea, but then you'd be a chicken."
"Ooooooooooooooh! He called you a chicken."

Had the ghost any blood left, he would be a fiery red. Had he someone hanging over his shoulder, telling him to keep his emotions in check, he perhaps would have followed the logical course of action. But not only did he not have any such thing, Arckal called him a chicken! "DORUKUMETS IS NO POULTRY, I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE."

"Then let's rock!" Revving up Hilux once more, Arckal drove through the corridors of the Asylum, trying to keep track of where the others were going, while still keeping Dorukumets away. As they sped through the corridors, the ghostly knight not far behind, Arckal and Hilux struggled to keep control while still reaching into the cape for the odd weaponry.

"I don't know what's wrong, I don't think I can take much more!"

"Hold on Hilux, I think I've got it." Arckal took out a metal baseball bat, and slightly slowed down, to let Dorukumets come nearer.

"Foolish one, your road ends here! I have the advantage, after all, you must pilot your vehicle and fight me at once, just give up." Dorukumets swung his blade forward, only for it to be parried by Arckal's bat.

Arckal grinned as the weapons collided, "No Dorukumets, you are wrong, I'm the one with the advantage. Hilux, turn!"

The motorcycle swerved around, with Arckal still standing on it, empowering his swing forward. Arckal leaped up, took out a club, and started to beat Dorukumets with both.

The ghostly knight recoiled, "What? How? your vehicle, it moves by itself!"

"That's the mighty engine power of a 2001 Toyota Hilux!" Arckal threw the bat at Dorukumets and then reached into his cape again, this time taking out a glowing net and throwing it over the ghost. He stuck the landing. Thumbs up to Hilux, end scene.

When Arckal made his way back to the others, they were almost at their destination. Soon, everything would be alright, they'd all go back home. At this point most of the patients had begun to be subdued by the nurses or each other, many of them too engrossed in paranoia to even come close to the the portal. Not to mention, if they had gotten there, they wouldn't be able to get in anyway.

"When did you get that keycard anyway?"

Jetsam swiped the key scanner, slowly opening the door that would lead them to their collective freedom. "I stole it from the doctor after someone pushed me into that beast they call a nurse."

The large door opened halfway, showing a glimpse of a room, much brighter than the rest of the asylum. Anyone who was paying attention would have seen a silhouette as well. "I said I was sorry, it was instinctual, won't you pwease forgive me Jetsman?"

"And stop calling me that!"

The door finally opened, and the silhouette stepped forward, giving off his usual drawl, "Excuse me, am I interrupting something? I promise I won't be long, I've just got some business here."

The tall man with long arms and legs had a spring in his step as he moved toward the group, his fiery red hair shined in the brighter room. He parked himself right in front of Arckal and Reuben, his cane making a loud clack as he placed his weight on it. He leaned over at the two, "Specifically, you," his smoky tobacco breath making them slightly cringe.

"Oh, but where are my manners," he leaned back and tipped his top hat, "The name's Saturday, Mr. Saturday. I am what you could call a collector, in this case, of souls." The last word was dragged out, sending Arckal and Reuben just the right message.

Arckal wouldn't have any of it, he reached into his cape only to have his hand whacked by Saturday's cane.

"Quick to act aren't we? Well, I suppose it is in your nature. Along with a few other things. So this won't be an easy job, of course, of course. Well, I'm willing to take a gamble if you are, how about," Saturday put on a big, malicious grin and stroked his goatee, "we cut a deal?" </font>

Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

Is everyone ready for the:

[Image: 7df802b73f40f44e03729a0c8cfd4842.png]

fyck phytybyckyt
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

“What kind of deal are we talking about here?” Arckal asked suspiciously, his hand ready to go for a weapon if it proved necessary. Mister Saturday regarded the stuntman for a moment, his eyes briefly flickering over to Reuben, Jetsam, Ywie and the scientists that flanked them.

“Be nice if we could get a little privacy roun’ here.” Saturday replied. He strode a little way away from the group and irritably Arckal followed him. Reuben awkwardly trailed a couple of steps behind them; his face betrayed a mixture of sadness and apprehension. “I guess this is the best that we’re gonna get,” he shot Reuben a glance, “fine.”

“This deal?” Arckal asked. “What are we talking about? A contest of some kind, with his life upon the line?”

“Naw,” Saturday replied dismissively, “nothin’ that dramatic.” He leaned back against the railing.

“Then what?” Arckal asked impatiently. He didn’t like this. They had been so close to getting out of here, out of this goddamned battle that he had almost been able to taste it, and then this guy showed up. The fact that he was so laid back, so relaxed when Arckal was used to high adrenaline confrontations was not helping his mood.

“You see the thing is, all your scientist friends back there,” Saturday waved his cane in their general direction, “they should all be dead. And not in some weird metaphysical ‘your presence altered their fates and kept them alive when they shoulda died’ sense of the phrase. These people have experienced death… and have somehow undied. I don’t know, I don’t much care neither. The point is that death don’t look kindly on those that ought be dead walking around.” Arckal’s hand went to grab a weapon, but quick as a flash Mister Saturday was standing in front of him, his cane lodged between his hand and the cape. “Come now Arckal, least hear me out.” Reluctantly Arckal withdrew his hand; he folded his arms and frowned.

“Well?” He asked.

“Well, I’m offerin’ you the deal of a lifetime.” Saturday replied snappily. “For a limited time only, the scientists of Neuge Research Station, Sir Franklin Crow and even Azazel Deathbringer (and he's the kind of guy I really oughta do somethin' about even if he hadn't just been eaten by a blob) they all go free with no repercussions. I’ll see to it they live out the rest of their natural lifespan as though bein’ eaten by a sentient waste disposal system never even happened.” Arckal glanced back at Reuben.

“And Reuben?” He asked warily.

“Reuben’s soul is mine.” Saturday replied. “’S a good deal if I do say so myself. You’d do well to take it.”

“What makes Reuben so special?” Arckal asked.

“Why’s it matter to you?” Saturday asked. “You don’t know this kid. He ain’t your friend, he ain’t your lover. He’s some kid you were sent here to kill. He don’t mean nothin’ to you, and if he did well that’d be a very sorry state of affairs.” He turned to Reuben. “No offense Winston, but you’re a mess; nothin’ but a whinging whining little brat pining that he misses his oppressive regime, what a crock-”

“And if I refuse?” Arckal interrupted. “If I tell you you can stick your deal where the sun don’t shine?”

“Then we foyt I guess.” Saturday replied. “You’d like that I know. You’re all about foyting. This time though you’d be fighting death itself. I don’t think that’s a battle you can win.” Arckal and Saturday regarded one another critically. “A battle you probably can’t win at any rate. Do you really feel confident enough to put all of their lives on the line?” He gestured once again to the nervous crowd of scientists who were excitedly chattering away about recent experiences. Some had even started studying Azazel, attempting to isolate that which gave him his immortality. Arckal stared at the fancily dressed man before him, for once struck with indecision. Life was normally so simple for him. Fight the bad guys save the day. This was different and he didn’t know what to do.

“Okay.” Reuben said. Arckal turned and stared at the kid.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “You can’t…”

“It’s okay.” Reuben said. Though he had been excited at the prospect of returning home to his family, to the life he had before this battle began, Reuben knew it was a hopeless fantasy. It wasn’t that he’d known that this was going to happen, it wasn’t even as though he’d expected something to happen to prevent him from going home. It was the thought of arriving back home, to see the people he loved, and to try to speak to them with this awful language. He’d be marked as a speechcriminal. He’d be hunted down and taken away to the Ministry of Love, as though he was some traitor, as though he was someone who had no love for Big Brother. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t go home and he couldn’t live like this. Mister Saturday’s arrival, it was almost like a blessing. “Thank you Sunglow. Make sure everyone gets home okay.”

Arckal didn’t say anything. He saw the bleak acceptance in Reuben’s eyes and he knew that he was not going to be dissuaded. That look between the two of them said it all. He clapped a hand upon Reuben’s shoulder and wordlessly they parted. He went back to the scientists, said a few words and then headed off through the door that Saturday had entered through with the group in tow. Reuben and Saturday stood and watched as the group slowly disappeared through the door. When the last one had gone Saturday fished a pistol from his belt.

“You know Reuben, you don’t seem like much of a kid any more.” Saturday said thoughtfully. “A little late but better than nothin’ I guess.” He clicked the safety off. “Any last words?”

“I feel…” Reuben hesitated. “Plusdoublegood…? I think that’s how you say it.”

There was a couple of seconds of silence and then a thunderous bang.

fyck phytybyckyt
Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [Final Round: The Asylum]
Originally posted on MSPA by Anomaly.

CRITICAL ERROR: Sector 0FC05108x0A corrupted. Administration personality inaccessible. Switching to default personality.

"personality_congratulation, subject 'Arckal.gbc'. You have triumphed over the other subjects in simul_5108. You will now be returned to location_home for a period prior to simul_51A2. You will then face three more subjects.


Storing Arckal for 51A2... Done.

Archiving Administration Personality...

Concluding Records of Battle... Done.

Re: Mini-Grand 5108 [simul_complete]
Originally posted on MSPA by Solaris.

The sun's rays shined through the curtains, stirring a caped man, tired and saddened from his slumber. It was the first time he had slept in what at least felt like a long time and it was exactly what he needed. Standing up and stretching, the man noticed the cape on his back, realizing exactly what he was dreading.

Of course, it was all real. Yes, he had been responsible, by accident, directly, or through inaction, but still responsible for the deaths of each of his three fellow abductees. Each of them had lives, family, loves ones that would never know, never see him again. And it was his fault.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, everything should have turned out alright. But in the end, the only one who had anything resembling a happy ending was him. Or at least, that's what he thought.

*ring ring*

Arckal scrambles to his phone, and before answering, remembers what a friend had told him. How long had he been gone? What had he missed? Would anyone believe him?

*ring ring*

He answers the phone, and greets the caller, hiding his worry. The woman on the other side sounds relived, explaining that though his agent had told her he had been missing for a few weeks now. It was Dr. Saffin, from the laboratory.

Apparently, she had some trouble getting back to civilization. Very weird trouble. When that was dealt with, and she got back... she said it would be best if he explained it in person.

It was just what Arckal needed. It was a reminder, not just of those who had lived but of the sacrifices made to let it happen. It was a reminder that they died for a reason.

Arckal said that he would be over as soon as he took a shower, he sure needed one.

He opened his window and took in the fresh air and light. Almost in honor of Rueben, he glowed in the sun. As the revitalized man started on the path to his next adventure, he neglected to notice that he wasn't as radiant as he usually was. Would his sunglow flicker out, returning his life to normal (or at least as normal as an actor's life gets), or was it just a momentary dimming while the world re-acquainted itself with him? Only one thing was for sure, Arckal wasn't going to stop, not until the credits rolled and the curtains came down.

He was Arckal Stich, and his adventure, not some random, magic induced series of events with ninjas, explosions, and cliches, but a real one, had just begun.

And he was ready.