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[personal profile] 0wnd 2022-01-04 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ Welc0me to your fuckhaus, truckers.

Who knows how you ended up here, but suddenly, you find yourselves in a dark room... apparently alone and without the other. Your head hurts, in the kind that feels like a raging hangover — throbbing, coming and going, though to your benefit it seems like it's fading fast.

First things first — it's dim in here. Your eyes will get used to it, and you'll gradually be able to make out some things. Namely, you appear to be in a small and very barely furnished room, or a poor excuse of one. Your bed is threadbare and more like a slab of concrete with an equally thin blanket as you rise. There is a glass of water at least, and you'll probably need it given how you can feel the sweltering heat. Wherever you are, it must be blazing hot.

If you strain your ears, you can somewhat hear the din of... something, but it's muffled through the thick stone walls. There is a thick and massive door of stone, no grate to see through, barring your way.

Last of all, you see two, erm, suppose these are chests, in the room with you.

...What to do?
]
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✦ IT'S SHOWTIME.

[personal profile] 0wnd 2022-01-04 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ As the doors to both of your containment rooms open, you see... a bright, ashy blue sky with strewn clouds, and the sun beating down on you like an ever-watchful eye, scorching. The heat is palpable on your skin as soon as the light hits, burning. You escape to the sound of uproarious applause, and find yourself in the pits of what looks like some kind of stadium, filled with spotty audience though each and everyone of them certainly don't lack for enthusiasm.

Nuwa will see one man on a high podium in the audience with massive boombox speakers and a microphone, masked face yet wide grin, slamming his hand on the splintering wood before him as he roars.
]

AND WELCOME TO THE FIELD, THE PREY WHO'LL BET THEIR LIVES ON A DREAM! NOW WHO WOULDN'T PAY A MILLION BUCKS FOR A FIGHT AMONG VAULT HUNTERS, EH?!

[ He laughs, the microphone screeches. The audience doesn't mind as they hoot and howl. Across the dusty stadium field, other doors open, and Owen and Nuwa can see each other — with Owen's door cracking open from the ice that frames it, icy fog escaping and disappearing almost immediately into the warmth.

What's else: you're not alone, as other doors open with other people carefully coming out, some seeming more or less prepared than others. From sword-bearing fighters who seem to go pale as a ghost the moment they see everything, to burly men who seem more than happy to start going right away, and women who take one look at the crowd and smirk knowingly, looks like we're in for one hell of a cast.
]

AND JUST IN CASE ANY OF YOU LOSERS ARE GETTIN' COLD FEET — REMEMBER IT'S A GODDAMN VAULT ON THE LINE! YOUR GREATEST WISHES GRANTED! SO YOU BETTER FIGHT LIKE IT IS WHAT IT IS!

[ Well then. ]