Welcome to Gaia! ::

And as the light of the moon filtered through the half shut blinds a young woman worked with great care. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face. Her fingers masterfully guided the needle and thread to pull together the torn fabric of her pants leg. Hours earlier she had slaved over a tub of water and soap to remove the stains of reds, browns, and pinks. And now dry after the sun had completely set and night fallen, she works. Quietly, focused, she was prepared for what was to come.

The night before second round was to commence and she worked. A straight face, narrowed eyes struggling with the small amount of light provided for her. She wouldn't be sleeping. She wouldn't be praying. She simply would be preparing her uniform, preparing to show the world just who the hell she was. And on the floor she remained through out the night with a crutch leaned against the same bed her back was against. It did not matter if she were fully recovered or not. She was going to show her unfortunate opponent and the world that she will not go down so easily.

And her fingers continued to move with the utmost skill, fueled by the passion of a youthful fiery spirit.

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

((*Blink* Wha?))

SPLASH!!!!

Arian fought to keep a hold of her knife, but he was stronger than she was. Hissing air out of her mouth, Arian gave up on the knife, releasing the knife in order to yank her arm out of his grip-quickly wrapping her legs around his body, pinning the arm that had grabbed hers to his side-his other free to go for her throat, but the same metal mesh stopped him from squeezing, stopped him from possibly breaking her neck just in his fist-or God only knew.

Arian's eyes were open. Higher up now, her powerfully toned thighs crushing his rib cage, forcing any pent up air out of his lungs-she stared straight at him, fire in the pretty blue orbs.

A...strange sort of coldness was there also. His life was forfeit. She felt no emotions for this amateur killer.

Her left arm would grip his shoulder tightly, keeping her body upright as her legs kept pressure on him, waiting for him to pass out-waiting to leave him down in the water to drown. Her right arm would force up between them, trying to force his hand from her throat. She didn't want him to die still gripping her-sure, she could take the collar and the shirt off, but she didn't want to lose the expensive a** metal mesh collar-she wasn't made of Gold, despite being worth a mil.

Arian was calm as she waited. Furious, yes-but also calm. Because he was going to die-and she wasn't.

Period.

"I don't do what I do because I want recognition-"

Her own lungs were aching. Arian needed air. His lips parted, desperate to take in air despite the fact his mind knew it was hopeless-water rushing into his lungs, filling them-Arian idly wondered if they'd burst, right here in front of her.

She stayed. No way would this man get out of this alive. There would be no heroic rescues. No rushing to the hospital. She would make sure he died here. His eyes stayed open, stayed on her-and Arian didn't care. She was cold to him. To his life. Let him die. She wanted him dead.

And then his gaze fixed on some point beyond her, beyond this world-heaven or hell, she didn't know and didn't care. Foam at his mouth, slipping past his lips-Arian pushed his arm easily away from her, her thighs slipping from his body. She swam upwards-while his body slipped down, down, down to the bottom of the pool. She knew it'd stay there for as long as it took before his body bloated and it rose to the top.

She knew he'd be dragged out by then.

The onlookers, still gawking at the pool but too afraid to stray near it (that smoking crater was a damned good reminder to be afraid, after all) all jumped when a dusky skinned arm shot out of the water, the slightest bit of a flail to it-before the small hand slapped down on the edge of the pool, a dark head of hair emerging after it, her pony tail holder missing, her coughs audible-though not her near urge to throw up.

Despite what the papers said...despite what people thought...Arian was not hardened to killing. A shiver went through her, quickly repressed as she dragged herself out of the pool, aware people were staring at her-and the horrified gasps made it clear they realized why only ONE person was getting out of the pool.

Arian blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes with her hand in a natural way to hide it-then she stumbled once-straightened-and walked with her normal stride around the pool-stared at and feared and God only knew what else. She bent to pick up her book she had thrown.

She was shaky, but no one but her knew it. Her throat was tight, but no one but her knew it. Arian opted out of going into the hotel. Could be someone waiting for her in there, in her room. She also was wary about going to security. They might arrest her, competitor or not. She moved quickly across the court yard, intending to take a quick exit, grab her bike-and disappear until the next round.

A news reporter or two had come running in, having heard about an explosion and some commotion in the pool area. No one noticed the sopping wet woman cutting across the hall. Rather-if they did, they didn't point her out. No one would know what she did until she was out of here.

She'd be back when it died down, and she could hide from the media.

And all the while, from the courtyard to the air conditioned hotel to the lawn where she had parked her bike-the brand on her shoulder burned, and she half felt like all the world could see it, maybe even from space.

Zoom zoom.

That was one hell of a nice bike.

Brought to replace his old, wrecked Nightster, the Harley-Davidson Night Rod Special wasn't a shy beast at all in light of the attention it and its rider was garnering.

James Eredas was very clearly leaving the Hotel, packed with alot of supplies, and what looked like all of his gear. The martial artist himself sported a black jacket, and jeans, looking very much hot as hell as he mounted the bike.

The reporters came, they asked the usual questions, then they asked if he was leaving, because, you know, the gear.

Yes, I am leaving. No, not in that fashion. I have three days to get back right? I'll be back by then. My last match? I did fairly well, I think I'll pass. Yeah, I didn't use fire, where you all hoping for a lightshow? Haha. The round seemed to pass too fast. Well, enjoy yourself, I'll be off.

Hops out of shower and towels off. Sighing he walked out of the bathroom into his room, now minus even the towel, and comes across his food. Smiling he grabs it and sits down to eat.

After consuming the whole of the meal Spyke lays back completely stuffed and sighs in satisfaction. He decides its time for a well needed rest so he cleans up his dishes as best as possible and collapses on the bed.

Almost instantly he passes out. After nothing but hospital beds and food for the first two rounds of this tournament he felt like he had gone to heaven with the hotel arrangements. So it was that he fell asleep for what he hoped would be a long rest.

Upon returning to his room after a six hour flight from Black Sand Island to the hotel, Damon was pleased to see the outcomes of the fights posted neatly in the lobby. The psion was beaming with confidence even before he read of his victory - made all the sweeter by Rachel's expulsion from the tournament itself.

To him she had been little more than a fly that desprately needed to be swatted. All that anger and emotion driving each of her attacks, it forced her to make mistakes, that was absolutely no way to fight. It held no tact whatsoever. A quick glance down the list revealed a few more nice surprises, such as the defeat of another fighter Damon hadn't cared for.

Now to see who he was going to be matched up against.

At the very bottom of the board were the round three pairings, each one neatly written with a stylish 'v' between the competitors names. "Lessee, here, Deitric versus Reyin. Oh, that'll be a lot of fun. AH! Here it is! Damon versus Esouna."

The psion's smiled turned into a very small frown and a little pang of annoyance went up through his chest.

Esouna was that fairy creature he'd seen in the match replays. Was that really who he was being matched up against? It almost seemed like coincidence had decided to keep the gag going. "Eh, well... at least it'll be enjoyable this time. Anything is better than a bat swinging rage monkey."

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Damon made his way towards the rooms in the upper areas of the building.

As soon as he got in his room he noticed the gold envelope sitting on a dresser with his name written on it. How nice? Maybe it was something a little more in-depth about the matches? Maybe an apology from his previous opponent for being such a bad sport? He could dream.

Quickly nabbing it from the dresser and flopping down on his bed, he peeled the back of the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper and began to read it's contents.



"Man, this guy sure does lay it on pretty thick. I suppose I can't disagree with his methods though, but there are better ways to go about than dropping people off in a thunderstorm."

Damon had not been affected by the weather, having traveled almost all of the world he'd been through, and endured, much worse than that. He already proved that he could overcome the elements by the sheer power of his will alone. Both literally and figuratively.

"Fighting in the mountains on top of a plateau, eh? Well... that sounds interesting enough. I could use a hike to get my blood pumping anyway. Hope the winds aren't too strong, I'd had to get blown off down a cliff!"

Once Damon finished reading the letter he tossed it into the trash and went about unpacking the few things he had brought with him. His gear for one, and some bandages and a few snacks for pre-fight purposes.

Tomorrow would begin the 3rd round, and to Damon, this was looking like it was going to be a breeze.

Spyke nodded as he looked up at the sign. He'd not packed anything so all he had to do was hand in his key. Life seemed to be a funny thing indeed.

He smiled at the woman behind the counter as he passed over the key. He didn't stop to see if there were any loose ends to take care of. He knew that everything was free but he left some money on the counter anyway to cover things.

As he strode out the front doors he looked up at the sky. For the time being it was blue. Happy to see that one of the biggest parts of the world hadn't changed since he'd entered the tournament. Nodding to himself he glance over his shoulder one more time. Maybe someday he'd make it past round two.

He faced the building before himself and bowed before he turned away and walked up the street opposite the way he'd walked in. An interesting thought on his mind that he posed to himself.

"Where to now?"