Description: Believing that the disappearances in France may be related to some sort of psychic manipulation, the Scarred Beauty of Southtown departs for France. The air stirs with supernatural energy, voices of the deceased call to him from the beyond, the missing plead from a plane where they no longer exist. Nameless has been sent by NESTS to learn of the disasters plaguing the world. When both fighters step through a dimensional rift, they find themselves in a desolate wasteland, and are faced not by the other, but by themselves. Forced to fight what they believe is a sinister version of themselves, their salvation comes in the form of Jiro Kasagi. Perhaps this is the dimension he had come from, and he is seen plainly for who he is, but can he make Alma and Nameless see the other for who they are and guide them out from the rift back to France, or will they remain trapped within for all eternity? (Winner: Alma)
This is not the Seine.
That much Alma can determine, as he rises to a kneeling position, rubbing dust from his eyes. Moments before, he and Jiro were in Paris, pursuing the elusive origins of the disturbance at the heart of the mass disappearances there. Some strange energy signature exists there, unidentifiable to his seasoned psychic senses but nevertheless all too evident. At first the thought that the overwhelming nostalgia he experienced upon walking those famous streets and down the banks of the river, lined as always with vendors of used books and sidewalk cafes, was simply the nature of the city. But the acuteness with which he felt that emotion, a kind of longing for the past which tended toward a dread of the future, was unlike anything he had felt before. Alma, though contemplative, is a man who lives in the present.
It is hard to imagine anything living here.
The landscape about him is desolate, a scorched ruin, populated by splintered edifices blasted beyond all recognition and ground more desiccated than desert sands. The sight is reminiscent of a Taizhou bombing site, if he had stepped a thousand years in the future and returned to it without any influence by man. He cannot even see the last vestiges of humanity in this place. It may as well have been built by an alien race.
This land is a mockery of the familiar.
And he is entirely alone.
Brushing dirt off the collar and front of his dress shirt, Alma shields his eyes and scans the horizon, searching for any signs of life lurking in the shadows of this forsaken place.
Another opportunity for sacrifice.
Footsteps echo throughout the ruins. Many were his own, from early moments... or perhaps later moments. The teenager couldn't trust his perceptions anymore. Stalking through the ruins, he had come here to find out what the truth behind this. He was willing to give his life to uncover the truth for his masters. But this... this all did not make sense. He was deep in his own thoughts as he passes a hollowed out coffee-shop.
And he steps out from around a corner, right before Alma.
He was... beautiful. Tall and lean, blond with pink highlights. The well-dressed man was smiling, relaxed. A gentle expression, a calming presence. Ethereal ribbons, a rainbow of colors, swim around behind him, a break in the desolation surrounding them all. This was not what was expected in this wasteland.
Alma has emerged, staring at Alma.
This Alma was a mirror of Alma, or perhaps that Alma was a mirror of this. The difference was in the eyes; a dead focus sitting in the eyes, betraying the calm presence that his apperance would otherwise convey. He steps out, his left hand raised up, back of the hand facing Alma. He was focused on him, head cocked, curious at his doppleganger. Every step comes with a crunch, the gravel spread with every step. Approaching his body double. Finally, he stops. Raising his left hand up, he inspects it, looking over the contours of it, slight smirk on his face. And then, he shakes his head, his voice so soft, looking back towards his doppleganger.
"You are not real."
This is not what Jiro would see.
All Jiro would see is a more familiar uniform. Black leather, the peak in boylita fashion. NESTS Boylita, as the sub-sub niche. Two-toned hair of black and white, two-toned gloves of ivory and black. The teenager was focused, eyes burning. Behind him, a black tattered danced, instead of the winding, multi-colored ribbons. The boy knew Jiro. Jiro would not know the stranger. But one thing would be clear to Jiro.
This was not Alma.
When Jiro arrived at Paris, his intentions was to explore the disturbance of the mass disappearances along with Alma. It was to see the city and explore the unknown and see what the investigation has to offer.
At some point, Jiro got separated from Alma. Introspection got the better of him and he was left wandering along the streets. Everything felt surreal for Jiro. He realized how much has changed the more he past by everything. Paris was not the way that he remembered. Then again, what was? His little sister forsook him. While he used anger to as his defenses...
...It felt like a knife was stabbed into his heart. His eyes lower as the feeling of dispair. "...Heh. How disconnected am I with this world...? Forsaken by my own little sister... I am actually afraid to face anyone else now."
What would Hotaru say if she saw him? ... What would Sakura, the person that he trusts the most, say if she saw him? The thoughts of his closest friend forsaking him starts to dig at his heart. "...Ngh." Repressing those thoughts, Jiro sets forth on making his way into where no man dares to tread.
Here he is within a desolate place. This scorched ruin that is filled with destruction. Jiro's eyes lifts up in the air. His eyes flutter shut, taking in the feeling. His eyes drift towards the sight before him.
It is Alma.
"...Huh, there he is."
Then, Jiro sees a form that is more familiar to him for some reason. "Nggghhh!" He clutches his forehead, gritting his teeth as he stares at the youth from the distance. "Wh---...what the hell?" He grits his teeth. There is something familiar. ...But Jiro does not remember why.
Alma is seen standing, facing down a strange young man with two-toned hair, their clothes and the young man's cape rippling in a desolate wind that whispers lies. The psychic's eyes widen, his breath catching, then narrow, his hands clenching into fists in surprise before instinctively relaxing. Whatever this place is, he cannot afford to lose his composure. His thoughts race to the doings of Seishirou Ryouhara in Taizhou, to the bizarre battle of dreams they had there, until he stops himself from blaming the villain who still haunts him. Very recently he dreamt of a battle he half-remembers, against a uniformed woman in a cavern beneath a forgotten island, where souls churned through a great sorcerous machine.
Was that real? Is this?
Remember, he tells himself. You were in Paris, investigating the disappearances of the citizens there. That is reality. If your will is shaken, you too may be lost. Deny this.
Pushing aside the disorienting effects of being in this blighted land, Alma raises a bare hand before him. "Begone, phantom," he says clearly enough for Jiro hear. "There are greater matters at stake than my reality." His fingers curl--
--and clench a gloved fist, his dark tattered cape rippling behind him, the mirror image of the NESTS operative before him, identical in two-toned hair and two-toned gloves save for one profound difference: again, the eyes, but here eyes of profound sorrow and grief, of resignation to total loss.
"She's gone," are the words that emerge from /his/ lips. "Forever."
"Silence."
That is what the teenager says to his counterpart. The quicksilver in his left hand begins to dance. He saw himself there. He knew it wasn't real. The boy ignores Jiro for now, ignores his contortions. He may as well be an illusion as well. This was all an illusion, that is what he believed. He refused to believe it was real.
Of course, that probably was him.
There was many of him, he knew this. He accepted this. But there was a reason there was only one at a time. And that laid with Isolde. He storms towards his double, his glove animated with icy life, bubbling violently. "What is there to live for, without her? You aren't me. You aren't real--"
"--You aren't real~'
The gentle form of Alma shakes his head, motioning an aside with his hand. "Look around you. This is what you have created; this is what your sacrifice has wrought." The man motions to all around him. The desolation. The ruins. The sheer wasteland that was all around them. The Alma begins to walk to his counterpart, closing his hand tightly.
"~Nothing~"
"Tell me. Who still knows you? Who still holds your teachings inside your heart? What lives do you still change, still transform? Everyone you've touched more than anyone else is dead now, or worse." Alma begins to hasten his approach, eyes burning with wrath.
"You aren't even a memory worth holding~"
The Stray Dog keeps a good watch of the situation. His eyebrows furrow, trying to discern why the two are talking. Hrm. Jiro will keep his distance for now and watch the spectacle. "Hrm, well, I can't quite get a good view from here..."
He decides to get a better view and closes in. However, he comes to a stop when he blinks at both Alma and the strange young man. He is staring, getting a good survey of the two.
However, the stranger's words hit home for him.
'Who still knows you? What lives do you still change? Everyone you've touched more than anyone is dead now, or worse.'
His eyes lower and then his fists tighten. "...Ngggh..." In his rage, he can feel the flicker of black flames forming.
The Stray Dog keeps a good watch of the situation. His eyebrows furrow, trying to discern why the two are talking. Hrm. Jiro will keep his distance for now and watch the spectacle. "Hrm, well, I can't quite get a good view from here..."
He decides to get a better view and closes in. However, he comes to a stop when he blinks at both Alma and the strange young man. He is staring, getting a good survey of the two.
"Well! Let's see what we can do here." He has a fanged smile on his face, tightening his fists. "It has been a short time since I've entered a tournament." A smile forms, "Let's see what chaos I can create."
"No!"
Alma shouts suddenly, sweeping his hand aside as Nameless approaches him, or so it appears to Jiro, who Alma seems to notice at last. Turning to follow where his own hand has pointed, Alma sees the young brawler, his truest friend, and his eyes widen in recognition and relief-- before he flinches back, taking a step away from the both of them.
That's not the Jiro he knew. The Jiro he knew is long dead, and would be much older now if he weren't, much changed from those days when Kain cast the Stray Dog out. Jiro is gone, vanished like the dust blown through this wasteland, and in his absence Alma has become an institution, hollowed himself out for the sake of his ideals. But he was not hollowed of his own will. The person most precious to him was stolen. He has forged on, hoping against hope, making meaning of his misery.
But to what will his kingdom come?
"No," Alma declares again, uncharacteristically agitated, "that doesn't matter!" Energy of cherry-blossom pink and rich indigo begins to swirl about his hand, at its core purest white. "Whatever I achieve draws its value from an unconditional vow." His eyes flare with a passion now tinged with desperation. "Even if this is my world's fate, I won't abandon it! I will be the voice declaring its value until the end! And I will protect it--"
He lunges forward, drawing his hand back before thrusting it forward toward his mocking doppleganger.
"--from you--!"
His cape swirls as the mimic of Nameless thrusts a glove forward, what swirls about his hand not pink or purple but glistening ice, the essence of a woman lost. "And what is your reality?" are the words that emerge from his lips. "What are you, if she is gone? How sweet, were she alive. You would be her knight, her questing hero. But she does not. You chase a phantom. And so you have made yourself unreal."
How violent his motions, how sad his eyes.
"You are a tool, a twisted laughingstock, plaything to your deceivers."
Eyes you could drown in.
"How sad she would be."
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Nameless has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Nameless
COMBATSYS: Jiro has joined the fight here in the center.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Nameless with Self Expression.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
The teenager clenches his fist.
"She loves me." He declares, as his double thrusts the ice forward. The drilling ice drives to his shoulder. Gripping the ice with his free hand, he cannot seem to get a grip on the assault. Taking the drill straight to the shoulder, he grits his teeth in pain. She protects me. She knows we need each other. I'm her hero, her white knight!" Nameless steps along the ice drill, winding back his left leg high in the air. With a smash, he attempts to drive that heel straight into his double's face, to drive him back--
"You know it matters."
As energy bursts forth from Alma's hand, his double takes the hit in the shoulder, wincing. But the words still come. Gripping his shoulder, he looks back at his double with contempt. "Look at yourself, at everything you've done. You are the definition of vanity." The double gracefully sweeps his leg in the air, delicately slicing the heel straight towards his face. "You claim you are humble, self-sacrificing? Then why don't you dress like a man of modesty,"
"Not a self-loving peacock!"
"Alright, let's see what we can do about this fight." He rolls his head to the side and then he moves his head to the other side. Bringing both arms high, he stretches himself to get those punching arms ready. He has been wanting a bit of relief and punching Alma for the judging event is a good way to relieve that stress.
Jiro has not forgiven him for that.
It is the sight of Alma flinching and backing away that the young man squints. Those crystal blue eyes shift to a more emerald green hued slits. He frowns slightly, "...Alma?" It looks like he saw...
A ghost?
The boy can feel those emotions tying into a knot. Tsch.
"WAKE THE HELL UP ALMA!"
The young man rushes towards the older man, preparing to do the Ultimate Attack.
The Clothesline.
The stranger comes later. His head is hurting. Take care of headache at a time.
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Alma with Strong Punch.
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Alma 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Nameless' Shigure.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
"Don't you remember?"
Alma pleads with his double, participating in a conversation only he can hear. To Jiro, it must sound as though the two of them are performing unrelated monologues, declaring their worth back and forth without any consistency. But Alma seems sincere, even agonized, straining more than he would with a normal adversary. It takes a lot for Alma to break down emotionally.
"Our ideals were to be at one with the world."
Something like the return of the dead.
"I swore to love life regardless of the consequences," he says as he draws his hand back, psionic force bursting from it like plumes of flame, and withdraws with raised hands to fend off the counter-attack. "I swore to dwell in this world no matter what it became. But upon making that promise, I knew that to live in it would be to abide by its rules, to integrate ideals nad practice. I would persuade and influence others with my dress and manner, and I would grow stronger, too, to fight against evil. I simply would not stake my value on success, mine or anyone else's. Don't you remember that promise?"
Alma's stance falters as he retreats, body tensing up, losing his natural rhythm, nearly stumbling on the blasted ground. His eyes quiver in unnatural anxiety at the enemy before him.
"Without that oath, I'm--"
Jiro's signature clothesline blows Alma off his feet, erupting seemingly out of nowhere to hurl him to the ground and send him sprawling. Dazed, the rattled psychic blinks up at the vacant sky and stares for a moment before a faint smile slowly flickers. "Sorry, Jiro," he murmurs, slowly lifting himself to his feet. "You're right. This is no place for me to lose myself. Whatever comes my way--"
Twisting on his heel in a dancelike maneuver, Alma's smile grows beautific despite his surroundings, letting a bolt of psychic energy fly toward Nameless as though freeing a bird from his hand.
"--I'll make it my own, in my own way--"
It is a shard of ice hurtling toward Nameless now.
"Pierce through your delusions, and accept the truth!" is his doppleganger's cry. "No woman remains to love you! This dream of yours has become a nightmare, sustaining only your crimes! Will you meet her beyond the grave, covered in sin as you are? Where she is now, there is no place for you."
That cape ripples, as though to blot out the merciless sun.
"Even if you could restore her to her body, do you deserve to see her again?"
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Nameless with Sacred Wave.
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~
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Alma 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
"Mere words."
As the kick is deflected, the Alma continues to speak. Drawing back, he stares at his opponent with wide eyes, and an accusing point. "What have our actions proven? A world still wracked in pain, in suffering. A world still falling apart at the seams. You do not uphold your oaths.
"You hide behind them."
As the blast of the energy is unleashed, it hammers into the chest of his double, tearing his suit open, revealing a smooth, exposed muscular chest, hairless as much as it is beautiful. A burst of cherry blossoms scatter on the ground, as the ribbons sway. And there, he points to the oncoming Jiro. "What oaths allow you to care for him? What oaths have you broken for him?" The blossoms begin to spin faster and faster around him, as he builds with pink and purple energy.
"Tell me, what have you lost for Jiro's--"
"--I cannot join her in the afterlife."
Was the response from the teenager. Smashing his leg into his double, he recovers, just in time to see the Stray Dog pounce on him. To help him with the double. His heart... strengthens. "Thank you, J-Clone;" He says politely. "I am gracious for the reinforcements from our more easily produced clones, but I must conquer this alone. If you wish, you can perform your secondary functions. Fetch me a diet cola, while I finish my battle, and prepare some rubbing lotion for my glove's rubdown."
The teenager gestures Jiro to run along.
However, distracted by the thought of Isolde being on the receiving end of J-Clone's legendary 'Rhino Ravagers' rubdowns, he takes the blast of ice squarely in the chest. Gasping for air, he clutches the point of impact, body trembling as he grips it with his right hand. Glaring back to his double, he snarls. "Do you not see how much I care for her? Even in the face of you, I have one of our manservant clones to give HER a body massage, instead of myself! I do not deserve to see her again. Not yet. Not until I rescue this world, to build it in the image of NESTS. Not until she can come into this world, and have an entire village of J-Clones to tend to her every need!" Gripping the glove, he takes a deep breath."That is the paradise I must bring her."
And with that, he removes the glove.
COMBATSYS: Nameless charges his next attack!
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Alma 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
"Oh my god, the both of you are making my head hurt." He rubs his forehead for a moment, looking back at Nameless. Then, his eyes revert back to Alma. Both of them are performing some sort of monologue, "Stop monologing and beat the hell out of each other already! This tournament is going on for a reason!" However, there is something that is bothering the young man, the more he thinks about it. He raises an eyebrow, "...Who is actually even watching this fight?!"
However, those thoughts come to an end as he comments about 'J-Clone'.
"...Huh?"
The young man's attention wheels straight towards Nameless for several moments. Easily produced clones? What? What? Jiro's lips curl to a snarl as he twitches angrily.
Secondary functions? Fetch?! Lotion to cool down?
Manservant? Village of J-clones?!
Jiro's body is visibly shaking. "I..." An eye twitches as he stares incredelously at the stranger who just referred to him as a clone. Mass-produced clone.
"Whhhh----"
Twitch.
One can imagine a nuclear bomb going off as Jiro is set off. Mushroom cloud.
Jiro is racing towards Nameless with an aggressive glare in his eyes, "I AM NO GOD DAMN CLONE! I AM THE REAL ****ING JIRO KASAGI!"
A hand moves towards the ground, igniting with the white flames like a match as he drives himself straight towards Nameless, "HERE IS A WAKE UP CALL FOR YOU!"
Alma flinches, disturbing his poised stance.
"We sought to forge meaning out of suffering!" he protests, eyes plaintive even in the midst of battle. "This is a world of loss and grief, and we swore to love it still. Every day-- every day I--" His voice quavering, he reverts to the first person. "I struggle to live that ideal, to live in a world rent by inevitable unhappiness. To face evil while embracing a reality in which it will always arise, and face futility with equal grace and defiance. I wish to be the champion of that world! So long as I love it, it won't fall apart!"
His whole body is trembling now.
"But it is agony to love a world without him."
He sweeps his arm out again, eyes wild.
"Every day is loss!" Alma nearly screams. "Who am I? Who is this man who people call a leader but so few can call friend? Who is this person who feels the cares of others as though they are his own, but cannot care enough for another individual to find a companion? I spend my days revolving around the void left behind, and even what my senses tell me no longer seems beautiful or true. Every day I break my oath, thinking of him!" The Jiro that lunges toward his clone now blurs for Alma with some sort of avenging phantom, some projection of his own will. "And every day--"
His trembling slows.
"I renew it."
He raises his hand before his face, slowly closing his eyes and breathing deeply. When he snaps them open again, they glow with a pearlescent light that begins to flow up his arm and about his fingertips.
"This is the world where our memories rest," he says, somehow calm again, a beacon in the midst of the wasteland. "This is the world I swore to protect. Sufferings piled on sufferings, meanings laced with meanings, all will crumble in that one vow falls: to live without justification. All else follows from that. All else can fail or be sacrificed but that. That conviction-- it is not invincible. It wavers in my confusion. But still, it is-- absolute!"
He shouts, and the light imbuing his hand bursts into a blade.
"Face that will, born as light!"
He dashes forward, leaving behind a starry trail--
"No amount of J-Clones will serve as your atonement!"
The man dashing forward is trailing a tattered cape, one glove surging with red flame. "Even if you had an entire village, nay, a veritable hamlet wait upon her every whim, do you think she would be appeased? No! Even setting aside the fundamental incompetence of J-Clones, it is your own evils which would concern her! You allow yourself to be taken in by pretty lies to justify your own existence. But the sins which you commit in pursuit of that paradise of Jiro Clones--"
The cape swirls as he attacks with that stolen flame.
"--will make of it a hell of Jira Clones!!"
COMBATSYS: Nameless blocks Jiro's Wild Fang.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Nameless fails to interrupt Blaze of Glory EX from Alma with Empowered Amagiri.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Alma 1/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
"No!"
That was the cry of Alma, as both him and Jiro double team him. Focusing on Jiro, he grabs him, barking at him. "You worthless fool! Why do you protect him? Why do you stand for him?" And like that, he gives Jiro a... pair of panties? Underpants? Blue-ivory underwears?
How did the copy -know?-
But as Alma comes roaring in with his inner light, his double tries to knock it aside. But to no avail. He shrieks in pain, as he is sent spinning away. "UBOAAAA!" He cries, as he smashes against a ruin wall. And just as elegantly, he floats back up. "You cannot expect your heart to be in it fully. Why do you claim that you cannot love this world without him?" He points at Jiro.
"Because you let him die"
The man begins to sparkle, shimmering with a ever brightening light. It was soon growing unapproachable, the radiance so strong. "Come, Alma. You know it is true--"
The leather-clad teenager was mildly annoyed by the J-Clone leaping on him. As Jiro ignites with chi flame, he sighs. "Look, I wanted to wait until after this fight, but if you really want to." Batting aside the energy idly with his exposed hand, he tosses the quiversilver glove into the burning hand. "Go ahead, ravage her. She'd like it. I have to deal with-"
Suddenly flame.
As the fires come, he brings his own exposed arm forward. It begins to boil and blister, the Kusanagi fire roaring up. And yet, it is not fast enough. Desperately, he attempts to slam his arm into the fire, to break it. But it is not enough. Nameless is sent hurtling backwards, smashing straight into a ruined building.
But he is grinning.
The arm does not stop broiling, the fires spreading up and down. "The world will be filled with all the J-Clones. They are my brothers, my closest brothers, and my children. For you see..." The boy glances at Jiro, nodding. "The blood of Jiro runs through me. Jiro is the catalyst that completes me. That is why I am know by my code name..." And he looks towards Jiro.
"J-Prime."
The fire burns even brighter, threatening to consume his entire body.
As Jiro charged in to deal the blow of slamming his fist at stranger, Jiro's fist is caught and he is barked at. "...." He stares as he is given a pair of blue-ivory underwear. Even worse, the hand is batted away and is tossed a glove over for him to catch.
"Wh--...whhh..." He stares for several moments with a puzzled look. And then enter Alma and his comment about Jira clones.
"...Please don't ever say that again, Alma." Jiro is rubbing his forehead. He cannot get over the fact that a) his cousin wore a tasteless sling bikini and b) she expanded the way she did. Jiro is still angry about his entire time at Thailand. Besides those situations, Jiro was manhandled by Jezebel. And for some strange reason, woke up next to her before they managed to take the flight to Paris.
In fact, Jiro decides to strike down Alma again because he is pretty crossed. His fists aretighten, ready to give his friend a nice punch in the face. After all, he needs to fulfill his role as the Chaos Agent. It's a win-win for him. Stress relief.
However, Jiro wants to punch the stranger even more right now. That is when he looks over towards the stranger who mentions about the 'brothers' and children. "Wh--what?" The expression turns even more perplexed.
The code name.
J'.
"...Wh--... what...?" His eyes widen as he places a hand over towards his head. "You... you are a clone of me..?" The young man starts taking a step back. "No..." The boy just laughs. He is trying to process the information.
So, not only did Jiro die at this time, but he was cloned...?
He stares at both Alma and J'.
"Hahhaa...." He places a hand over his head, "Hahahhahahaha... This can't be happening... You can't be serious!" The eyes flicker, now looking more wild-like. The feral-beast has manifested itself as he tries to calm down.
COMBATSYS: Jiro takes no action.
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Alma 1/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
Alma stands in silence, breathing deep of this desolate world.
"No."
The word with which he began, calmer now, measured and sure.
"Jiro's death was his choice."
The thoughts that his mirror image gives voice to have stabbed him before, countless times. The struggles with a world without his dear friend, the wondering at what exactly it is he loves, whisper at him from the shadows, gnaw at the edges of a conviction that must be absolute. But when his blade of light strikes home, Alma feels himself endowed with a clarity he has lost, aided by Jiro's intervention.
"My promise to love this world was transformed into a vow to ensure the meaning of his sacrifice," he says slowly, as though remembering. "The relentless passing of time has effaced some of that sentiment, such that perhaps none see Jiro in my work but me. But with every young fighter taken off the streets, even if they will never be a friend to me as he was, I do what I could not: save him." He leans back, smiling slightly. "Perhaps that, like this world and my love, is pathetic. But he did not die because I failed. He died because he did what my friend would do."
He lowers his hand, allowing his flames to fade.
"So long as I live, so too will that memory--"
The doppleganger too lowers his fist.
"You speak of them as your family, then?"
He steps toward Jiro, who seethes now with a bestial rage.
"Perhaps you no longer need her memory--"
But it is Alma who is stepping forward. His composure and resolve have returned. The ache from where Jiro's clothesline first brought him down remains. He places a hand gently on Jiro's shoulder as the boy trembles with barely constrained rage.
"Jiro," he says quietly, "thank you."
Even if this time and reality rejects Jiro, even if the boy's own sister must turn her back, this Alma is grateful that the Stray Dog has returned to bring him back from the abyss. Someone wants him here.
"Calm yourself, my friend. We must leave this place before it takes hold of our minds completely."
COMBATSYS: Alma assists Jiro.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Alma 1/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Nameless
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 0|-------|-------
To be fair, Jiro did remember to use protection.
Jiro DID remember to use protection, right?
We don't want any 'Ghost Dads' up in here post-reboot.
Both the Alma double and Nameless are in unison now. The illusion was breaking. Both were slowly melting down, one in light, the other in flame. Alma is silent now, he is simply embracing the light, the radiance now creeping through the ruins. But the teenager was speaking his last rites. His body was blackened now, rippling with energy. And he speaks out loud, for both Alma, and for Jiro. "I will always have her memory. I will always hold her to my heart. I will never falter. I will always be her white knight. In life... and... and in death."
"Guard that well, brother."
And he erupts into a blaze of Kusanagi flame, consuming all.
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits Jiro with Rinkou.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 1/---====/=======|-------\-------\0 Nameless
[ ||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 1|---====|=======
Lowering his head, Jiro places a hand over his arm. He looks more introspective. His rage is still there, but he is unable to act on it. This is the life he came to, finding himself in some place that he has no clue about.
His eyes narrow, turning away from Alma and J'. "..Hrmph."
So, this is how the original Jiro of this time died? He sacrificed himself. He offers a faint laugh. How amusing. He scarificed himself.. for what reason?
The touch earns a flinch at first, then he looks straight at Alma, "..Heh..." Jiro is unable to give a real response, only that faint smile as he tries to piece himself together.
"...Let's get out of here."
It seems that things are hapening. The teenager speaks out to not only Alma... but to him as well. "... Her...?"
His eyes widen, "Hey, wait!"
As Jiro extends his hand out, the clone erupts into a blaze of those flames that transcend the normal chi that many hold. These flames consume the young man, covering him in those scorching blaze, "Gaaaaahhhh!!"
The light completely envelops Jiro...
The explosion was one of a brilliant light.
The aftermath leaves Jiro flying across the arena grounds. His clothes are ripped and burned asunder. The young man is left bleeding profusely. Consciousness fades from his mind...
~ "Jiiirrroooo... get up! You said you would play with me. Get up or I'll leave you and play with Max." ~
"...Heh. If only things were that way again.."
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits Alma with Rinkou.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|-------\-------\0 Nameless
[ ||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 1|---====|=======
Alma smiles gently at Jiro. This has been trial for both of them. Perhaps they will be forced to return to this wasteland someday. It may be the future that awaits their world, one in which ideals expend themselves fruitlessly, bereft of those who would keep cares and memories alive. With space and time in turmoil, it is unclear what it would be for them to hold on to their own identities, if it ever was. But for now, Alma's promise endures, embodied by the presence of his dear friend, whatever form the Stray Dog takes.
"Agreed--"
A warning flare fires in the back of Alma's mind. He turns toward where his clone once stood, and sees instead an unfamiliar figure, a young man with two-toned hair and a tattered cape blazing with overpowering energy. Alma's lips part, but there is no time. No time to learn this man's name, his past, or anything of what he saw here or is doing in this place. But he speaks of an unconditional vow that defines him, and of one lost, forever treasured, always close to heart.
"No-- stop--"
Even as the flames rise, Alma reaches out his hand.
"You're me--"
The world becomes ash. As all trace of the world vanishes in the haze of the explosion, Alma wonders if that too shall be his fate, to burn up in a blaze of glory before those who know nothing of his story, for all his memories and built-up meanings to vanish in an instant with his death, promises evaporating like dew. All that he is can be taken any in a breath, should be perish. But the senselessness of death finds its mirror and its counter in the will to live beyond all reasons or validations, equally irrational, equally invincible. And so he does not fear as he falls through the flames.
Should he happen to live, that shall be the life he loves.
Alma opens his eyes.
It is the sound of water that summons him. He lies by the banks of the Seine, his suit in burnt tatters, those few Parisians passing by who are not ensconced away fearing the disappearances gazing down at him in shock. He slowly rises to a sitting position, blinking away dust that no longer exists.
"Ah," he murmurs, "so I live still."
Turning his head, he sees Jiro splayed out next to him, bleeding but not greviously wounded, unconscious but breathing. Alma smiles slightly, and leans back on his elbows to recover as he waits for help to arrive. And tilting his gaze back toward the river, there in the water he sees a shadowy figure with two-toned hair looking back at him, nameless and silent.
"You too," he says to his reflection, "will not be forgotten."
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits himself with Rinkou.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > / ]
Alma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|======-\-------\0 Nameless
[ ||||||||||||| ]
Jiro 1|---====|=======
As the fire, the light fades...
There is no sign of Nameless, or the Alma double. Only a scorch mark, where they both once stood. The damage was done. It was only an illusion, a dream.
Or was it.
Jiro still had the glove in his hands. Not panties. But a glove. A quicksilver glove, yearning for his care... or possibly, drawing in a most dangerous game into his midst.
Does Jiro keep the glove? y/n
> Y.
Jiro has acquired ISOLDE GLOVE. NESTS Aggro +5
Log created on 19:18:03 08/24/2014 by Alma, and last modified on 03:59:34 08/25/2014.