Strife! Halloween Beatdown

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

Strife! Halloween Beatdown

A new dawn heralded the Neutral Grounds. Michael awoke early in the morning, with a mug of fresh hot coffee in hand made by one of his reliable robot appliances. A sip, if not more, to warm himself up for the day, yet the bitter taste made him a little repulsed as usual. He wasn’t fond of the coffee’s taste, preferring the sweetness of cocoa, but that one was a little too sweet. He took a few more sips of coffee on the balcony of his apartment, regaling him of the spectacular view of the city. The sun was just beyond the horizon, and he was early. Way too early. It’s like those times when he had to leave this early for a job he wished to finish at noon or something like that, as his wont as a mercenary for hire in the previous year. Today, he’s lazing about, but this period of inactivity made him skittish. He isn’t used to being lazy and was always one who needed work. Mayhaps new job postings have been posted. He turned around and went inside, inspecting the calendar hanging near the balcony door. Upon closer inspection, a date was circled with a big red mark. And then it hit him - it was Halloween.

He had made plans prior with Giselle to attend the event in the Neutral Grounds, but to think that he forgot. And he doesn’t have a costume! Though he had no need to panic, he would not hear the end of Giselle’s rant on having a boring ass costume. He sifted through his wardrobe to try and see if there’s anything he can use as a costume, but to no avail. There was none. “I see.” No he doesn’t - he can’t see anything worth making a costume out of, as most of it is just casual clothing.

“Hm… this is quite the conundrum.” He thought to himself as he sat on his bed in deep thought, trying to think of what he can use as a costume. Perhaps his room back at House Morgan has some costumes, though he doesn’t remember anything. No, not while he has no memory of his past Halloween. Logically, there is only one thing he can do - use his psionic powers. He just needs to acquire fabrics, some leather, a little shade like this, some glue, threads, and the immediate knowledge of costume makers - tailoring, leatherworking, etc. All the necessary skills he can emulate with only a portion of his power, a powerful skill for anyone aspiring to be a professional. He did so as he went for them a few hours later, when the stalls and stores in the shopping district were open, of course. Then there’s also the question of what to wear, with a variety to choose from. A vampire? A werewolf lumberjack? A mummy? All seemed too basic to him, however. He came up with a decision before deciding what materials to buy - a wayward knight under the rule of the phoenix. A grand concept, of course, but it’s something he’s capable of doing within his own psionic powers. Later with his precise and articulate movement of his tools with his telekinesis, he was able to finish his costume in more or less two hours or so, with a lot of vacant time before evening came.

Darkness crept as evening came. He remembered that he and Giselle were going to meet up somewhere around the entrance of the venue. The streets were already populated by event goers and contest participants. Standing out among the crowd is Giselle, adorning a beautiful and sparkly blue dress complimented by what looks like nine crystalline tails that can form into one big tail, and fox ears. He doesn’t know how she achieved this, mayhaps with the help of magitech. One thing’s for sure - she stands out like a sore thumb, or fabulous thumb in that matter. Among all the costume ones, perhaps he was the only one with an arm that looked like it was burning. It’s not demonic, no, at least it doesn’t appear to be. “Otherworldly” might be a better descriptor. “Michael! Perfect timing!” The blonde didn’t waste a single second as she spotted him among the crowd, rushing to him and grabbing his arm, dragging him along to what looks like a stage for a costume contest. It was already too late to protest, but at least he has something to do.

He was dragged to where the booth for the costume contest was, and he already saw what was coming. She had both of them register, though to her knowledge, he didn’t know what he was going to wear. She was floored when Michael arrived and looked fearsome. “I had us register for the costume contest and I juuuust have to win! Either you or me, now that I, like, look at your very cool costume. But still! This will be fuuun, I swear.” “...okay.” He just shrugged, as if he had a say on it, “I guess the winner will be announced later?”

“Oh you bet! Like, I can guarantee that either of us will be picked. Or, like, me. Because I’m too fabulous.” Something tells him that Giselle doesn’t quite get what costume contests mean, more so when Halloween is involved. Still, there’s still time to enjoy everything the venue has to offer, like that one booth with refreshments. Questionable, perhaps, but the mystery is what makes it so exciting! At least, to her. The esper doubts he’s going to enjoy this, if he can’t even enjoy coffee. He could just as well use telekinesis to grab a couple of them or so, but that’d just rouse suspicion. “That looks interesting.” he commented on it.

“It looks exciting! Let’s go get some." Giselle said as she rushed towards the booth, leaving Michael to his own devices for awhile before returning with the suspicious but welcome refreshments.

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

Strife! Halloween Beatdown

Before he could even protest, Giselle had already handed him his drink insistently while gulping all of it down at once, reasonable as the drinks were put in a shot glass. Then again, if the organizers have the mind for safety, these drinks must have been inspected prior, and have thus assured these would not ruffle someone’s bellies, make someone puke excessively, or outright poison hapless event goers. What could possibly go wrong? This drink should be safe. He drank it all in one gulp. How quaint, it’s not as alcoholic as it looks and not too sweet. He closed his eyes to process this flavor, thinking what this concoction was made out of. He opened his eyes to find everything red. He’s seeing red quite literally. “This is really good! What about you? Did you, like, like it?” He was puzzled. She doesn’t appear to suffer any impairment, which he can only conclude that each drink is different to an extent. While magic can’t be used, the ingredients used for this concoction must be the one responsible for this effect. “It’s quaint, but I’m seeing red. Literally.” He replied to the blonde’s inquiry, to no surprise on Giselle’s face. “Oh, you must have one of those uh…” She said, trying to recall some info on what he drank while snapping her fingers, until she remembered what it was, “Oh! That must be the drink where you’d see everything according to your eye color. If your eye color is red, you’d literally see red! Like, this is interesting. Let’s get some mo-”

“I think I’ve had enough suspicious colored refreshments for tonight.” He protested before she could leave him and get more drinks, “How long do you think will this last?”

“Just a few hours. Like, probably around the end of the party. Probably.” Great. Its effects are trivial at best, but if the effects persist longer than intended, the organizers definitely have a lawsuit on their hands.

Seeing everything in one shade of color is inconvenient for him, most especially since he’s developed a certain type of color blindness after his extreme bouts of rage at one point within this year. Giselle no doubt will have seen the event as it is - wonderful and colorful. He could only see everything in a muddied tone - dull and slightly grey, as if their vibrancy was taken away. “Oh! I almost forgot.” Giselle procured a coin sized trinket from her pocket, which bore the resemblance of a candy corn. “The staff from the drinks booth gave this to us. Maybe we can use this for something important later?”

The esper just shrugged, with a half-assed “M’kay.”

The events proceeded apace with the both of them going through various stalls. It was a quaint experience, and had this feeling of nostalgia. It’s as if he enjoyed it at some time in the past but he couldn’t remember, as much as he forced himself to. The both of them had their fill and they were a little tired from going through all the nift halloween knick knacks displayed on every stall. The two sat down near the inconspicuously large clearing. To his knowledge, this doesn’t seem very usual, and with the devices stationed around the corners he couldn’t make heads or tails if there’s supposed to be something here. "Hey, why do you think is there a large clearing in the middle of the event venue?" The esper asked. Giselle wondered, thinking that an important event may happen on a later hour. "Well I think-" Her response was cut short as panic could be heard from the entrance side of the venue.

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

Strife! Halloween Beatdown

Indeed, the commotion brought the spotlight to what appears to be a group of… dancing zombies? Their rotting carcassess apparent, foul in not just rotten flesh, but also stinks of magic. However they got in the Neutral Grounds without rousing the ire of the authorities is a mystery. Eerie murmurs could be heard among this zombie dance troupe, though one appears to be out of the ordinary - an undead clad in red costume and wavy hair. It’s obvious this one is the leader of the pack, its dance moves unparalleled compared to the rest of its horde with its smooth moonwalks and a lil “Shamone!” here and a lil “Hee hee!” there. What’s dumbfounding is that those from a safe distance could only watch not in horror, but in amusement. Still, this zombie’s dance moves are a threat to the event goers. They appear to be moving towards the inconspicuously large clearing in the middle of the event area. “Annie, are you ok? Are you ok, Annie?” The troupe leader murmured lyrics to itself, leading them to the center.

Michael isn’t one to sit idly by.

“Go.” He said as he faced Giselle, nodding and standing up from the benches to the sidewalks, while the esper stood ready for combat, though he can’t just use his Soldier’s Gambit. No, not until the machines in the corners activated at once just as he and the troupes were alone. “...was this planned all along?” Michael muttered to himself, bewildered at the turn of events. Without skipping a beat, one of the organizers held up their microphone, accompanied by what appeared to be a soothsayer; a fortune teller. Some cheers and yells could be heard, cheering for his victory.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we will be accompanied by our fellow soldier in arms as he battles his way to victory!” The official said.

“We, or rather I, had foreseen this zombie appearance. I have worked with them to contain them, but where’s the fun in that? As he’d say. So tonight, enjoy the spectacle as the knight of fires everlasting cuts his way through the horde of twilight dancers!” The fortune teller said.

They can’t be joking. They anticipated this to happen, or rather, they saw this coming and they never filled him in? Michael was livid, and it doesn’t help that he’s literally seeing red. And he can’t just use his psionic powers here, as well as his guns and pistols! Him using them within the Neutral Grounds is suspicious enough if one would bear witness to him using it. Still, there is one weapon he could use - his claymore. A subtle psionic empowerment should do the trick. “You want to be entertained? Fine.” He said, his hand slowly reaching for the hilt of his claymore. He then rushed towards the front line, unsheathing the claymore behind him and slicing one of the zombies in half.

One by one, the zombies would dance their way to his side while trying to attack him with their dance steps. “Shamone!” The leader would cry out as multiple zombies would pounce at him, only to be cut in half by his blade, his danger senses kicking in the moment they leapt. A particularly stronger zombie would slam their fists at him, and he blocked it with his blade, though the impact knocked him back far enough, hitting the barrier. Yet he didn’t fall. This was nothing. He went back into the fray and charged with his sword, dragging it along the venue’s stone floor and performing a rising slash, slicing through multiple zombies at one. It was a fantastic gorefest, at least for them, as one by one he’d cull them with his claymore until the leader was the only one left. And this one’s a little… dodgy. Their slick dance moves were enough to completely dodge his attacks, and with each attack, he grew increasingly frustrated. To the crowd, however, it looked like they were dancing.

His attacks grew increasingly fast, off tempo in his effort to finally put an end to its existence. And it did, for a single misstep on the zombie’s part was enough to find its head separated from the body. The crowd cheered at the bloodbath, with a group of cleaners coming in to clean up the mess. He was congratulated and hailed a hero, though much to his and Giselle’s disappointment, they weren’t the winners. He was given two similar coin sized candy corn for his participation.

Oh well. There’s always next Halloween.