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[Seanie]

Seth was surprised, an emotion quite unbecoming of him. The two had vanished without a trace.

"At least he took that loud army kid with him," he mumbled to himself in between puffs, as he walked over to where he had last seen them. Unbeknowest to him, each step causing tremendous earth tremors to shake Dash and Whitcomb.

"Y'know, I don't think we sh -" began Dash, before being so rudely interrupted by a large gust of smoke. Seth was now crouched down and examining where they had just been. He glanced around, before fixing his view back onto the bent blades of grass they were just standing on.

"Vanished..." he spoke softly as he stood up straight, "the hell happened?"

As the smoke cleared, the two were greeted by another unwelcome guest, as a massive cigarette filter fell to the ground beside them. Thinking quickly, the Atrian grabbed the back of Whitcomb's suit collar and bolted to safety, as the mammoth foot of Seth came down and trampled the area they had just been.

"Thank you for that," Whitcomb said graciously, knowing full well that he could have escaped on his own in the 1.5 seconds it took for Seth's foot to come down.

"Is it always this dangerous?" Dash asked, attempting to be pleasant to his temporary companion.

"More or less," responded the former agent, straightening his shades which had been jarred off his nose by their sudden escape.

---

Seth had set off into the forest, meandering through the trees. It had been a while since the last time he had been somewhere this calm. Nearly all his targets lived in a large city, so he took his time to take in the scenery. "Too bad they couldn't get real animals," he said, coming across a large grizzly bear. The bounty hunter ran his hand across the lifeless monster. It was stone cold. Behind the colossus were two little bear cubs playing together. Seth paused for a moment, and started intently at the two statues, before retrieving a cigarette and his lighter. He placed the cigarette gently between his lips.

"Musta been nice being a kid, heh?" the cigarette bounced up and down as he spoke, and was finally lit as it calmed back down. Seth went to stare at the sky, but was foiled by the trees and their leafy shingles. Undaunted, he leaned back against the mother and examined the treetops. Taking a long haul from the cigarette, his eyes darted back and forth until they rested on something he liked. An apple tree. Seth exhaled, causing a cloud of smoke to cascade above his head, which floated up lazily, discouraged by its green prison. "Red Delicious... not my favourite, but it'll do." Retrieving his bowie knife, he made his way over to the apple tree and picked one off the lower branches. Finishing off his cigarette, the bounty hunter smothered it on the tree, before beginning to cut a trench into his lunch. Or was it supper? He wasn't entirely too sure, and didn't particularly care. Strolling his way through the forest, he'd occasionally widen the apple's wound and mercilessly eat the pieces he cut away. Seth's pleasant stroll however, was rudely interrupted by a disgusting snore. Pushing through the trees, he found the source of this hideous snore. An red haired irishman sat flat on his back on the other side of the stream he just stumbled upon. Finishing off his victim, Seth threw the applecore back into the forest, before traversing the stream carefully on a few rocks jutting out of the flowing water. As he approached the man a foul stench gripped his nostrils. This man was drunk. It was either the morning after breath, or perhaps the half empty bottle of scotch beside his body that gave it away.

"It would be much too easy to kill him now," he examined him from a safe distance, lest his breath latch onto his clothes. There was also a kendo stick firmly gripped onto in his right hand, presumably for hitting people. "The brute," Seth noted to himself, before continuing his way up the stream. Along the creek was much different than the rest of the forest, As there was somewhat of a clearing, and the sky was clearly visible. Aside from that, it seemed to act as a median. One side, where he had just crossed from, had much more growth, while the other side was sparse and filled with lazy sun beams. It was so picturesque in fact that Seth found himself walking through it as opposed to beside the river. Lifeless birds were strewn across the branches, and one was frozen in midflight, worm tightly clasped in it's claws. Normally the bounty hunter would've stopped to examine this, but he had seen stranger things already today. Seth continued his way through the forest, until he spotted an old man in the distance. A black fedora lay by his side, matching the black trenchcoat that he wore. White hair flowed behind his head, although much thinner on top. A wooden puppet layed in front of the boulder.

"Hey Geezer" Seth called out obnoxiously, but approached cautiously. This man was here for the same reason he was.

"I prefer 'Charles'" he responded, placing the fedora on his head before turning towards the approaching Seth. "And you should respect your elders."

[Seanie]

Poisson d'avril.
Real post isnt' done yet.

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

Dash gave his new companion a long hard stare before finally speaking, "I see you're not scared anymore."

"I know it's not a threat now."

Third pass complete. Heuristics indicate that you will have to make skin-to-skin contact with this person to return to normal size.

Dash sighed and removed his gloves, tucking them into his pockets. He wiped his face with his hands, and then smiled at Whitcomb.

"Of course, you realize I'm going to stick to you like epoxy for the next 5 hours, right?"

"You can try," replied Whitcomb. "Have fun."

At that, he darted into a thick clump of crabgrass. Suddenly, he felt Dash's hand plant his face into the ground.

"You can't get away from me. Look, I'll make you a deal. You return us to normal size, and I'll let you use Lotta."

Dash plucked the LO77A from his own eyebrow and maneuvered it towards Whitcomb's.

"No thanks, I don't want-"

"Oh come on, you've got to see this."

Dash pulled Whitcomb's sunglasses off and placed his ungloved hand on the agent's shoulder, his thumb touching the agent's bare neck. As soon as the LO77A detected that the person it was about to be placed onto was not Dash, it emitted a blinding flash into Whitcomb's eyes and a shrill shriek into his ears. In shock, he triggered a size change, pulling himself up to three feet in height, and Dash back to normal. Dash replaced the LO77A onto his forhead and the now comically oversized sunglasses onto Whitcomb's face. The agent stumbled around, blind and deaf, eventually tripping over a log and falling flat on his face in the dirt. Dash chuckled at the sight and darted off towards the stream.

"Let's make a special note to avoid that person in the future," he murmured.

Acknowledged.
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Tacofiend]

Reserved.
_________________

[Sharp]

[Tacofiend]

The curator paced impatiently in front of my offering. Those were not the paintings he had asked for and I could see from the way he periodically snorted that he was not pleased with what I had brought him.

“Where is David Castillo’s Calamity’s Envoy?� he questioned sharply in a thick Italian accent. I noticed a vein, now pulsing steadily, on the right side of his forehead that stretched up towards his balding scalp. He was not pleased at all.

“After further consideration I decided that the painting was too precious a treasure for your museum,� I answered casually. I would not let this man intimidate me.

“Is that so?� He was beginning to redden. “Where, may I ask, did you decide to put it?� He adjusted his glasses carefully, realigning them back on the bridge of his nose.

“My collection,� I stated simply. “If I may venture to point out, you were the one who asked me to acquire the painting for you, Mr. Verger. If you were really as attached to this work as you appear to be now, you would have gone and fetched it yourself. After all of the trouble I went through to come into possession of it, I simply decided that the profit I would make wasn’t worth it.� The curator’s face was a vivid pink as he took a step forward, leaving just inches between us.

“I will not question you about your methods—,�

“And you can rest assured that I will not ever disclose them to you.� With that, I reached into my pocket for my pipe. In a fit of frustration he dropped the briefcase he had been carrying to the floor, letting it spring open to reveal its cargo of several stacks of American bills, each lined into neat rows that spanned the length of the case’s interior. He raised a pudgy finger and jabbed it into my chest as he spoke.

“Ascolti, voi scopata!� he hissed, resorting to his native tongue. “I’ve been more than reasonable. I’m offering you one hundred grand for that painting. It would be wise to take it.� Maneuvering around his arm, I lit my pipe and took a long draw off of it. Then, looking the beet-red curator directly in his eyes, I exhaled into his face and gave him my answer.

“No.�


My eyes opened slowly, letting the filtered light from the canopy of the forest pour in. Slowly I came into focus on my surroundings. Yellowed tree trunks lined the clearing that I was sitting in the midst of, their branches casting jagged shadows around me. I could see some of the bark was scarred from where a passing deer had sharpened its antlers on it. The forest floor was littered with twigs and not too far from where I was sitting appeared to be the remains of a fire pit. Makeshift log seats were strewn around it, some tipped over as if whoever was there had been in a hurry to leave. There was also a large boulder in the middle of the clearing and it seemed that I had been leaned against it while I remained unconscious. The last, most significant, detail that I absorbed from my surroundings was a small envelope that someone had left beside me with my name emblazoned on it in large, elaborate calligraphy.

I sped through the message in the span of half a minute. After completing the first paragraph every detail that followed raced towards me with vivid clarity. I had been spirited away to a death trap. The letter was signed by someone named Laelie and she had concluded by labeling herself as a hostess. This was a game.

The life of a professional thief had taught me that panicking is the absolute worst thing you can do. I panicked. The limbs of some of the smaller trees scratched across my face as I sprinted through the forest, desperately searching for a sign of where I was. I slid to a halt between two massive trees, turning my head sharply, seeking any trace of civilization. With my left hand I steadied myself on one of the trees, attempting to slow my breathing and get myself under control again. Large beads of perspiration were running steadily across my jaw and falling to mix with the dirt below. The blazer that I was wearing was making the humidity of the forest all the more unbearable. Hurriedly, took it off and hung it on the branch of one of the nearby trees.

“Just listen,� I gasped, commanding myself to focus. There were no birds. The forest was eerily quiet. I strained for the sound of cars, that perhaps there was a highway nearby. I didn’t hear vehicles but I did hear the unmistakable murmur of voices some distance ahead of me. As I crept towards the direction of the voices, I began to make out what was being said.

“I don’t know where we are either,� said the first voice, somewhat rough but still full of vitality.

“Have you seen anyone else in this forest yet?� asked the second, raspier voice.

“Yeah, I’ve seen four counting you.�

“I just finished reading this letter as you approached. From what it says, you and every other person wandering around her are supposed to try to kill me.�

“Have I tried to yet?�

“No boy, no you haven’t. But that doesn’t mean you won’t.�

“Hey, if you don’t want to get called a geezer, refrain from calling me a boy. I’ve got a name too. It’s Seth.� I was now close enough to see the figures that were speaking and so I crouched behind a small bush, peeking over to see what they looked like. One was a young man that appeared to be in his twenties. He had unkempt blonde hair, wore a large, alabaster trench coat and a slender bo staff was strapped across his back. His hand was extended towards the second figure in a gesture of greeting. This man contrasted greatly with the youth that stood before him. He was much older, somewhere in his fifties, and sat on a log wearing a long black coat and a fedora. Wisps of silver hair streamed out of the back of it down passed his shoulders.

The older man looked at Seth’s hand for a moment and then continued to stare up at his face, presumably looking for a hint of aggression in the boy’s azure eyes. When Seth realized that the man was not going to return a handshake he dropped his arm loosely back at his side.

“You’re an awfully cold man, Charles,� Seth told the old man with a furrowed brow. Charles’ shoulders began to bounce slightly as if he were chuckling silently.

“You can’t blame me for not wanting to trust you,� he said, one side of his mouth curled into a half smile. I shifted my weight at that moment, nearly losing my balance. I caught myself quickly but I couldn’t avoid rustling the bush I had been crouched behind. I quickly laid flat against the dirt, melding my body with the forest floor. My face was a pile of pines while the rest of my body became an assortment of dirt and twigs. Within moments Seth had leaped over the bush and was now standing less than an inch away from my head. I could smell the mud on his boots. My eyes, now buckeyes (I improvised), swiveled up to watch his head pan across the woods in search of what had made the noise. As he surveyed the scene, his eyes locked on something out in the distance and he jogged quickly over to investigate.

“Hey Charles,� he called. “I think someone’s missing their blazer.� The old man got up from his perch on the stump and walked casually over to take a look for himself. As soon as he passed my position, I slid quickly across the ground, blending in with the dirt and heading away from the odd twosome. I did notice something that seemed peculiar though. As I passed by the stump Charles had been sitting on, I caught sight of a doll lying on its side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw it blink.


Yes, I'm going to write in first-person perspective during this game. I'm sorry I took so long with this post. I was nearly slain with writer's block for about three hours.
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[Mushroom Pie]

"Well, dammit," Whitcomb muttered as he lay face down in the dirt. He could almost hear his own voice over the obnoxious ringing in his ears. He sat up, and blinked rapidly until the world began to focus back in. He estimated himself at about three feet tall. Not too bad. He'd certainly been much worse. He looked down in disgust at his now oversized glasses.

"Ugh," he growled as he picked them up. "Does he have any idea how hard it's going to be to make these proportionate again? Let's see now, where I can I stick these..." Knowing that they could no longer possibly fit in his pocket or on his face, he hung them from the front of his suit. Once that problem was taken care of, he removed the toothpick that was hidden behind his ear and stuck it into his mouth. It was no cigarette, but it would do. It always had before.

"So, what am I gonna do now?" he asked the empty clearing. Once he saw that he wasn't about to get an answer, he hoped up onto the same log as before, dangling his legs as he thought.

Dammit, I know that I've seen that thing he had from somewhere before, but where? His curiosity gripping him tightly, he searched deeply in his memory for some sign.

That thing seemed awfully high-tech. Maybe it's something from back There? Yeah, it'd have to be. His eyes suddenly widened in realization. I've got it! That one was one of Greg's inventions! That's right, it was supposed to be some sort of database or something, with all kinds of sensors and whatnot. He even had one up and running shortly before I left.

But, something still doesn't really add up. Greg's prototype was huge, with three or four computers connected to it. In fact, I don't even think it looked much like the one I just saw; he only ever had sketches of that thing. He said that he didn't think that they'd be able to make one that small until well after he was gone. At this point, he tried to let out a breath of smoke, and became somewhat frustrated when he remembered that he only had a toothpick.

Guess They somehow managed to speed up production on it. Wait a second! His eyes widened again. The only place that thing could have come from was There, which means that he must be one of Them! He peered up thoughtfully at the tiny pockets of light permeating the leaves above.

"So, They've gotta guy on me, huh?" he said aloud. "Wonder why he didn't take care of me when he had the chance." He failed again at taking in a breath of smoke. "Well, one thing's for sure, the guy's a threat. I need to either steer clear of him, or kill 'im before he gets the chance to do the same to me." He sat silently for a few moments while he contemplated this choice.

"Eh, what the hell, I'm bored," he said as he dropped off of the log.

"Guess I should just start circling outward until I find a sign of him."
_________________

[Sharp]

As he walked towards the blazer, Charles's mind was already thinking of how to dispose of his new ally. Upon reaching the article of clothing, Seth immediately snatched it up and began thoroughly examining it. This worked out well for Charles, giving him a second to involve himself with internal affairs. His physical eyes sunk deep into his head, and through his minds eye, he saw 5 scenes of the forest. He got a general idea of what was going on in each image through the scenery. In two of his views, green foliage quickly passed by. Another showed a deep blue sky with faint traces of green on one side, while yet another showed nothing but darkness. In the fifth and final scene, Charles was presented with a strange sideways view. On the left he saw the forest, though it had been turned on it's side. On the right, though, there was an unevenly shaded light brown. Charles recognized this immediately as the stump he had been sitting on just moments before. He gave a quick command through the view. A small puppet's arm popped into view almost immediately. The arm was covered mostly by a long black sleeve. Charles could see the beginning of an inscribed name on the arm, but knew already what he was looking at.

“Mold, come.� Charles thought the command as loud and consciously as he could. Without any delay, the view turned upright, and the puppet came scampering towards him. Over to the side a bit, Seth was still examining the blazer, but caught a glimpse of Charles out of the corner of his eye. It took him half a second to realize what he had just seen. Seth immediately twisted his head over to get a better look at the old man, but this time, his eyes were firmly in place. He shook his head and put the blazer down.

“Come on, old man. Walk quick if you want to keep up. I don't know why I even brought you along in the first place.� Seth snapped.

“Love at first sight, I suppose.� Charles retorted. Seth replied with an annoyed grunt.

__________________________________________________________________________________-

A small puppet, possibly two feet in height, dashed through the forest in an entirely different direction. It would have been an odd sight, had anybody seen it at that point. The puppet was dressed mainly in grey, a long grey coat covering up most of the torso. Underneath the right coat sleeve, one would be able to see the puppet's name emblazoned on its arm: Sever. Upon its head it wore a little grey hat, but the interesting thing was its face. It appeared to be curved out of a bright white oak, but unfinished, like a mannequin. The features stayed vague, and uncompleted, without so much as a mouth or eyes. Even without expressions, however, the knife gripped in his hand made his duty clear. Kill.

Through nonexistent ears, Sever heard footsteps, and immediately hopped behind a tree, falling on the ground completely slack, as though someone had just left the puppet lying there.

No sooner than the puppet had fallen over, an automated sounding woman's voice rose up. “I have detected a large amount of movement within twenty-five feet. Would you like me to look into it?�

“Please do.� A man standing by the tree replied.

“Scanning...� The voice said. “The source of the movement seems to have come from the other side of this tree.� Dash circled the tree, finding the puppet slightly propped up, almost as though it was poised to pounce. Just then, a voice came from a small figure in a tree high above him.

“Dash, what does the scouter say about the puppet's power level?�

Dash's eyes opened wide, “It's over nine thousand!� Dash would have paused for a second to think over what exactly that meant, had Sever not immediately took his wide eyes as an opportunity to jump up. He latched onto Dash's face and sent his blade down towards an eye. Dash quickly tugged on the puppet, causing his blade to deflect off of LO77A. Without a second to waste, Sever plunged his knife directly into the heart of Dash's left eye. Sever jerked the knife around, oblivious to Dash's cries of pain. Regaining his wits even with a knife in his eye, Dash charged up his kinetic rings, releasing the force onto Sever. The puppet went flying, with his prize on his knife. Landing feet first on the ground, he immediately scampered away. The puppet sitting high up in the tree broke out in ear piercing, shrill laughter. The immediate danger gone, Dash's pain returned to the forefront of his mind. His boots charged up and began propelling him away from the area off of various tree branches. Sensing the need in Dash's voice, LO77A began to inform him of his condition.

“You are going to live through your condition.� LO77A said.

“I get that, Lotta, but that doesn't change the fact that I am now missing one eye.� Dash replied.

“You can still see through your other eye. As soon as you get back to your home it will be little problem to find a suitable replacement. Until then, it will be no different from wearing an eye patch. For now, you will need to sterilize the wound to avoid infection. You have a small first aid kit underneath your vest.� Lotta continued.

“I can tell this is going to be tons of fun...� Dash let out a sigh and settled on a tree branch.

__________________________________________________________________________________-

Charles's eyes rose into his eye sockets. He and Seth had been resting on some oddly shaped rocks, Charles bent over with his eyes covered by his hand, Seth sitting alertly, his eyes searching for any of his fellow “contestants�. Having just enjoyed a show through the eyes of two of his puppets, Charles emitted a low-pitched chuckle, his hand leaving his face. Mold had long since hopped up behind him into his strap within Charles's trench coat. Now was as good a time as any to pull him out.

“Say,� Said Charles, “I'm actually a bit of a craftsman. Would you like to see one of my works?� Seth pulled a lit cigarette out of his mouth, and tapped it on the rock he was sitting on.

“No.�

“Excellent! I knew you'd be interested.� Charles said with a smile. He opened up his trench coat and pulled out a two foot puppet of an exact likeness of himself. A bit deformed, but it kept in many details. Seth was unenthusiastic.

“Wow. A puppet.� Set took a puff of his cigarette and looked up at the sky. A bit insulted, Charles tossed the puppet at Seth, causing it to graze his arm. Seth bit down, causing his cigarette to split and fall out of his mouth. He spat out the filter before turning around. Behind him he saw that the puppet had now become a two foot replica of himself. Pausing for a moment, he spoke up. “You made me drop my cigarette.� Mold was taken aback by the simplicity of the comment, though his personality had suddenly changed to fit Seth's.

“I'd call you a idiot, but that'd be kinda hypocritical, wouldn't it?�

ITS, don't get mad at me for removing your left eye. It's not about Lotta, I planned it pretty much before I thought of the character. You don't have to even mention it ever again if you don't want to, since his vision is fine with his right eye. I assume that's why Tsuta had no problem with it. I just wanted to get two points across.

1. Charles is evil

2. Sever exists to make permanent mutilations to people. Once every one or two rounds. I'll ask before doing anything that changes your game, of course, but this was kinda minor, having only as much impact as ITS wants it to.

Anyway, You've met Mold and Sever, and an unknown puppet. Mold takes on the likeness, power, clothes, and personality of whoever he touches. Unfortunately, he's two feet tall.

Sever enjoys killing more than any of the other puppets. He can't make talk or laugh, though.

And that's pretty much it.

[Wiznerd]

nabbing myself a...

Reserved.
_________________
I Know...

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

I also want to get two points across:
1. The green text in my posts is the LO77A communicating. It is not surrounded by quotes because that communication isn't spoken.
2. the LO77A is nothing like a scouter and only in the DBZ universe do people have power levels. For that line alone, you should lose this round
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Tacofiend]

"What, 9000?!" I gasped.

[Sharp]

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

[Sharp]

Yeah, yeah. Like you weren't asking for it. That thing is so much like a scouter it hurts, even without a tiny screen.

[Tacofiend]

Not to mention incredibly cheap...
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