Chapter III: The Cyborg's Are Here
-Match I-
"The first match is between Electro-X and Zurimo."
Akasha gasps. "I'm first." The group all wish her luck as she leaves her spot. She rushes down the walkway and down the steps at the front of the tournament. "Good luck Electro X!", shouts Prince.
The crowd yells in anticipation as Electro-X and Zurimo arrive onto the ring. Electro-X stands straight up with her hands clenched besides her hips. Zurimo gets into his fighting stance, spreading his legs and outstretching his arms. "Hey, what's your problem? Attack me!" he screams. He waits patiently, but eagerly. Electro-X still stands still in the same spot, looking at him. She stretches her legs and arms out more. "Power up!" She suddenly gets engulfed in yellow rings that glow around her. Zurimo gasps and jumps back in horror. "What the…?", he utters.
Electro-X's yellow suit comes into view. The long yellow pants, the long sleeved upper shirt and a glowing white forehead symbol that covers her forehead and rises up past her head. The symbol is a triangle with a lightning bolt in the center.
She completes her transformation. Her eyes glow in a white glow like flashlights in the dark. She presses back forcefully and screams, "Super Lightning Clash Attack!" She lights up and a bigger glow arises accompanied with a titanic sized bolt that crackles out of her body and strikes Zurimo in a split second. The arena turns white and everyone covers their eyes. Urimo bounces off the ground, shaking and toasting from the blast. Electro-X subsides the attack and everything goes dimmer, and so does the glow around her. Her powers disappear. Zurimo falls back on his back as the paramedics take him away on a stretcher. The crowd is speechless.
Electro-X ha turned back into Akasha now. She walks away, glaring seriously.
Deep in the blue sky, six obscure figures slowly glide in midair. A strange and bad feeling radiates from their bodies. There is something weird and dark about them. They're all men and each have different colored hair, very similar to their clothes. They are all headed towards the tournament. One of them grins eerily. "Remember what Master said, no mercy." The rest agree by nodding their heads. They have the same outfits: a short sleeved muscle shirt with ammo straps wrapped around their right shoulder and rings around their back. They all have baggy pants that lead to heavy boots, which are black. Slowly but surely, they arrive at the tournament walls.
The guards at the opening door spot the six suddenly fall down from the sky and they get alarmed. One speaks and says "Why, hello, men. Are you here for the tournament?" The other guard inputs his two cents. "The tournaments' already started. The spots have already been made. So, I suggest you leave." The men look and each other and chuckle. One of the men walks from out of the back of the group. He is extremely muscular and has light blue hair and light blue pants, along with a blue shirt. The guards press a button by them and a hole is opened on each side of them. Two huge rifles are picked up by them. "Freeze! Don't come any closer!" The two guards aim the rifles at the men. The man in the light blue outfit stands in front of the group and takes a step. The guards lean their fingers on the trigger ready to shoot. "We're serious. You in the front! Back off or you'll be filled with led!" The man snarls eevily and takes another step. The guards slam on the trigger and as the first bullet zoomed out of both the rifles, one of the guys in the group shouts and the bullets stops in mid-air. So does the entire world.
"Great job, now let's go," says one of the men. The guards are frozen in time. The tournament has stopped. The six men walk past the guards, except the light blue haired one. He smiles. "It's time for you guys to cool down." His hands touch their shoulders and automatically, freezing ice creeps over each of their bodies and soon traps them in gigantic ice blocks. The door to the tournament opens and they all walk into a room where the tournament contestants are frozen in time. "Our mission has begun," the red haired one remarks. They nod their heads and each of them chooses a contestant that's not in a conversation or being noticed by others. The chosen people are dragged from their assumed positions, taken to the edge of the tournament tower and are dropped into the ocean. They walk sluggishly, yet stealthily back to where the people were and the man with the light purple hair and shirt shouts and in a blink of an eye, time unfreezes. They assume their poses patiently, trying not to talk to anyone. The name tags they stole from the contestant's outfits are stuck to their muscle shirts.
The day continues to be beautiful and bright, but only a few miles away, grayish-black clouds roll in the silent wind towards the tournament…