| The Fanfiction Project Returns! |
July 1st, 2003A year had passed. 64 chairs were set out on the lawn once more. The lawn was wide, a rolling expanse of lush greenery that stretched for acres on each side. In the distance, one could catch a glimpse of the gigantic mansion that would house the competitors in the Tournament, as well as the smaller buildings that surrounded it, making up the village where they would stay. To the newcomers, this place seemed a paradise, a utopia… the serenity of the world far belied the intensity of the battles that were to take place in this tranquil, peaceful estate. The smell of flowers and other flora would be replaced by the acrid stench of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. Some, like the young Vivi, were much happier in the peace of the sunlit lawn. Others amongst the newcomers couldn’t wait to get into the arena and begin the carnage. In the short time he had been here, the assassin android designated HK-47 had already compiled a short list of approximately 3569 ways in which he could dismantle each and every one of the disgusting meatbags who were to be his opponents. To the returning competitors, the dimension was exactly as they remembered it—unchanging, forever the same. The faces were different, but that was it. Max Payne lovingly polished the twin Berettas that were always at his side, throwing a nod at his poker buddy, the Vice City kingpin named Tommy Vercetti. “You better have brought the devil’s luck with you, Vercetti,” said the former NYPD officer with a smirk. “For in the ring or at the table?” responded the gangster, matching the expression with a cocky smirk of his own. “Take your pick,” chuckled Payne. Yes, the world was the same as they remembered it… for the most part. “Hey-a… where’s-a the a-forest?” wondered Mario Mario, who, looking around for the umpteenth time, finally realized what had been unsettling him so much. The gigantic patch of evergreen that marked a frequent training ground for the competitors was… gone. Not burnt down, not chopped—there were no charred or razed stumps remaining—it was simply gone. The area was carpeted with the same rolling green grass as the rest of the lawn. “Forget the forest,” muttered the blonde Maverick Hunter named Zero, having noticed something more significant missing from the dimension. “Where’s the stadium?” The massive, hulking structure that was the home to the titanic clashes of the contest… was also gone. Vanished. As Tommy Vercetti would say, it was “finito.” “Of no mind stadium hold,” mused the grammatically challenged CATS. “All the contest victor are where?” Although his syntax was utterly bizarre, he had a point. There were 64 chairs out on the lawn—and only 60 competitors. Mega Man, Cloud Strife, Sephiroth, and Link were nowhere to be found. Their chairs, set at the very front of the group, were empty. “Well, Link got here late last year, didn’t he?” pointed out the young swordsman Crono. “Maybe they all… got lost on the way?” Crono’s companion, the tall warlock Magus, shook his head. “Unlikely. I feel it is far more likely that something… or someone… did not want them to be here at this time.” The third member of their group, the squat amphibian warrior named Frog, nodded slowly. “Had thee not informed me of what hath happened amidst these realms, I wouldst be inclined to think that ‘tis a mere coincidence. Yet coincidences are rarely so…” While several more of the competitors were also puzzling over the changes made to the contest dimension, the vast majority of them were either ignorant of what had happened, choosing to ignore what had happened, or they simply couldn’t give a damn. Kefka seemed to be preoccupied with frying a nearby anthill… from the inside out. Sora and Squall Leonhart were busy sparring one another, a friendly training duel, as the wizened warrior Auron looked on, giving commentary and (often cryptic) advice. Tidus sat on the grass next to the red-cloaked ronin, looking utterly bored—when were these two going to let it up so he could get in a round? Maybe Vyse would be up for something… Meanwhile, the young Ryo Hazuki was having troubles of his own. Upon finding out from Dante that the teen was from Japan, one of the newcomers—a man calling himself “Joe” or something—had gone over to him, eager to strike up a conversation. “HEY,” spoke Joe, very loudly and slowly. “MY NAME IS JOE. WHAT IS YOURS?” Letting his mental discipline restrain him, Ryo closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke in perfect, unaccented English, “My name is Ryo Hazuki.” “THAT IS A COOL NAME. DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?” Ryo sighed to himself. “…yes I do.” “AWESOME.” Joe grinned and laughed. “Hey, I’m just playing with ya, man. Do you like superhero movies?” Overhearing their conversation, a scarlet robot shook his head. “Statement: Meatbags irritate my circuits. Idea: Perhaps I could kill them all. Correction: Perhaps I could torture them all, then kill them.” Another mechanical being, this one far more human in appearance, shook his head, his long yellow scarf flying in the wind. “Man, you have problems,” said Protoman, before walking away. And a third figure, again appearing to be more machine than human, approached a silent man sitting on his assigned chair. Samus Aran reached up and removed her helmet, letting her long blonde hair spill out of its confinement. “…hey,” said the bounty hunter, quietly. Solid Snake looked back up at her, and for an instant, surprise flickered across his features before he regained control of himself. “…hey,” he responded. The two stood there, just looking at each other, silent. Next Entry Back |