Chapter One: A Sword, an Axe, a Mace, and a Chainsaw
Location: Urbania, the Hood Zone
Main Territory of Criminals and Gangster Thugs, constantly contested
Deep within the urban jungle of the now quartered off sector of Base Prime, where vicious men, women, and beast alike fight for dominance, there is a rather sizable neighborhood that was once a residential and business area for Agents, Officials, and Dimensional Travelers alike, now a desolate gangster's paradise, filled with the sounds of gunshots, explosions, and people screaming in pain as their life leaves them. In one such street, a group of thugs wearing purple and white clothing, each bearing the symbol of a purple Fleur Dis Lis, is caught in the middle of a vicious gunfight against several grunts adorning blue and white combat armor, a white sun somewhere on their armor. One of the purple thugs, a young Hispanic teen wearing a purple beanie and white sports jersey, ducked behind cover and pressed a communicator on his ear.
"These Blue Sun bastards won't let up!" The Hispanic teen said, ducking his head as thermal blasts from the futuristic guns of the rival gang shot into the destroyed car barrier. "We need more Saints here before they kick out asses, Pierce!"
"You think you've got it bad, Carlos?" Replied an African American man, Pierce, on the other line. "Shaundi and Gat called earlier, and said Clowns and Fiends are overrunning the other neighborhoods, and nobody's heard from the Boss since the Lin Kuei hit our fourth base. Meanwhile I'm sittin' here tryin' to keep everyone calm while the Monarch's Henchmen bash our doors in!" An explosion rocked Carlos as a grenade went off, killing several Blue Suns and Saints alike and forcibly disconnecting the call.
"We'll have to fall back!" Carlos shouted to the other Saints, watching as more Blue Sun troops began to pour into the street. "Fall back to Base and regroup!" As soon as Carlos issued the order, suddenly all the guns stopped firing on both sides. Curiosity got the better of Carlos, and he poked his head above his cover to see what had diverted everyone's attention. Standing in the middle of the street was a tall man wearing a red jacket, black jeans, sporting some weird spiky black hair, sunglasses, and had some sort of metal cylinder on his hip. The man stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to the Blue Suns, a smirk on his face.
"Did I interrupt something?" The man asked in a snarky tone. "Sorry, but I was hoping you guys could tell me where Lookout Watch is? I've got an important meeting there and…"
"GET THAT IDIOT!" Shouted a fully armored Blue Sun soldier, aiming his rifle at the newcomer. He barely fired off a single round when his gun suddenly was split in half, and the man stood in front of him, the cylinder now sporting a long beam of energy, a technological katana of sorts.
"Well, that was rude." The man said, a scowl on his face. "I kill shitheads like you." Before the Blue Sun could even react, the newcomer swung his beam, and the grunt's head was lopped off his shoulders as a fountain of blood erupted from his stump. Carlos' eyes widened, suddenly realizing who the guy was, he read the reports of a man with a beam katana, a professional assassin.
"That's Travis Touchdown, the No More Hero!" Carlos lightly whispered. He turned to the rest of the Saints, who also seemed unsure about the whole situation. "Let that guy take care of the Suns, he's one of the top Solo Agents!" The Saints obliged, watching as all the Blue Suns turned their guns on Travis, who looked like he was having the time of his life. The armored gangsters quickly panicked, firing their guns at Travis, the assassin barely reacting as he nimbly dodged all the shots. Shifting his legs at speeds nobody, not even the surveillance cameras, could track, as he ran from grunt to grunt, leaving each one sporting fatal injuries, ranging from dismemberment to being completely cleaved in half. One thing's for certain, the cleaning crew was going to have a fun time dealing with this mess. As the last of the Blue Sun fell down, half of him on the other side of the street, Travis turned to face the Saints, completely covered in bloody.
"Alright, WHO'S NEXT?!" Travis shouted, swinging his sword about. A few of the wary Saints began reflexively loading their guns, but the rest immediately directed their focus towards Carlos, who looked scared out of his wits. He knew that Travis would never back down from a challenge, and he knew he had no chance of defeating the No More Hero at all. Sure, the Boss would have his head for this, but staying in the game was goal number one.
"Yeah, not gonna happen, dude." Carlos said, holstering his gun. "You just… do your thing alright? SAINTS, BACK TO BASE!" On command, all the Saints either took off on foot or loaded up on still intact vehicles towards their base. Watching as the last of the purple vehicles vanished from sight, Travis deactivated his beam katana, holstered it, and let off a light-hearted chuckle.
"Gets 'em every time." Travis said. Reaching into his pocket, pulled out an earpiece and placed it on his ear. "Hey, Sylvia, how much closer am I to the rendezvous point?"
"Just head down your street and turn on the third left, Travis." Said the seductive voice of a French woman. "You're going to have to go through a few other gangs, but it shouldn't be any problem for you."
"No problem. Just keep safe and we'll win this by the week's end." Travis said, strolling down the street. Emerging from behind the street just as Travis turned corner was a small, spherical metal robot with a single camera as an eye lightly beeped, none other than one of the IDA Security Cameras, purposed for observing the entire Tournament.
"Ah, now there's a contestant of interest." Said the voice of Rick. "Travis Touchdown, the No More Hero, the Crownless King. From one of the Alternate Earths, Travis was once part of the United Assassin Association, a group of international hitmen and mercenaries that rose through the ranks by killing each other. Travis did this twice."
"Once to get laid by the sexy head of the group, Sylvia Krystel," Slick's voice said. "Which ended with him fighting against his long-lost Irish twin brother, Henry Cooldown, who I am told is also participating in the Tournament. He's just as big of a douche as Travis."
"Just because you lost in arm-wrestling against him doesn't make him a douche." Rick groaned. "The second time Travis was on a quest for vengeance for his murdered best friend. On that journey, Travis not only murdered the head of a Pizza Corporation, but also succeeded in dismantling the UAA for good. Vanishing for a couple years, Travis and Henry both joined the IDA after a skirmish against Agent Handgun of the IDA, and the two quickly rose through the ranks as among the best Solo Agents we've ever seen."
"And what a fighting style that guy has!" Slick exclaimed. "From what you've just seen, Travis Touchdown is a master of the Beam Katana, utilizing two at the same time, on occasion, and looks awesome while doing so! Slicing and dicing, he plows through enemies with the speed of a tiger. Not to mention he has the most kickass motorcycle of all time, looks like something out of a Japanese Anime. Not surprising because Travis is a massive Otaku… It's kinda unhealthy."
"Like your addiction to those cheesy romance novels, eh?" Rick joked, the sound of a slap popped up from the speaker.
"I don't talk about your short comings, mister LARPer." Slick snarled, ending with a laugh as Rick began stuttering. "Nah, I'm just kidding man, but you're still a dork."
Location: Urbania, the Desolate Zone
Dominated by Wasteland Raiders
If the Hood Zone could be considered a Ghetto area, then the Desolate Zone is a bombed out neighborhood. This place earned its name from the fact nobody lived their due to constant rampaging by the denizens of the Wasteland who had the misfortune of falling through a Rift. Much to the dismay of the IDA and locals, a majority of the occupants were Raiders, specifically the drugged up Fiends, rampant psychopaths with vicious guard dogs that preferred to shoot first, gut second, loot third, then ask questions later. Located in the destroyed ruins of what once was an office building, Saints and Fiends were engaged in a gunfight. While the Saints had superior firepower, more and more Fiends continued to overwhelm the area, making the fight last longer than it should. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar was a dark-skinned woman wearing a black jacket, purple undershirt, her brown hair hanging down behind her shoulders, reloading her rifle.
"Shaundi!" Shouted a chubby white Saint, gaining the woman's attention. "They're coming out of the fucking walls! We can't hold out any- GAH!" A bullet struck the Saint's neck, sending him dead on the ground. Shaundi internally cursed, leaning out from her cover and firing into the crowd of filthy Fiends. There were just way to damn many of them.
"Where the hell is that back-up I called for?!" Shaundi barked, watching another Fiend fall dead, only to have another crawl over his corpse with a miniature chainsaw. As soon as she spoke, something odd sounded against her ears. She turned to the sound's source, on the side of the building… She could have sworn someone was playing a guitar riff. No sooner had the guitar riff ended than a wall exploded near the Fiends, sending the scantily armored thugs flying. "The hell was that?" Shaundi glanced at the explosion, and saw someone emerge from the smoke and rubble. He was a muscular, stout man, with long black hair and a five o'clock shadow. He was wearing a leather jacket and a black t-shirt with the words 'Succoria' emblazoned on the breast, grey jeans, a belt with a menacing skull belt buckle, and a spiked bracelet on his wrist. Strapped to his back was a menacingly large double-headed axe, and in his hands an electric guitar. To Shaundi, the guy either was a Rock Star or a Metal Roadie.
"What's up?" The guy asked in a gruff voice. "Name's Eddie Riggs, I'm a Roadie. And… Apparently you guys are causing trouble. I'm supposed to meet someone at Lookout Watch, but I've got time." The guy, Eddie, played a few very loud notes, forming a loud riff. Then, as soon as he finished, all the Fiends had their faces melt off. It was as though the music was so intense, the Fiends couldn't handle it. They all collapsed on the ground, not a single bit of flesh left on their faces. Needless to say, it was disturbing, yet so badass. "You Saints better clear out of here. One of the Fiend leaders might be on your ass for assaulting them. And there are a lot of 'em."
"Thanks." Shaundi said breathlessly. She, along with the rest of the Saints, evacuated the building, leaving Eddie Riggs to tune his guitar. He was definitely going on the people of interest list for the Saints. Eddie chuckled as he hit a fine note, removing a walkie-talkie on his belt.
"Hey, Magnus, I had to take a slight detour." Eddie said. "I'll be at the Watch in about an hour."
"Yeah, hurry dude." Replied a gruff, almost Californian voice. "Gangs keep patrolling the place and I don't feel safe without the others."
"They had to go scout out the Metalworks for threats." Eddie replied, rolling his eyes. "Just keep your little foo-foo diaper on and I'll be there as fast as I can." With a click, Eddie put the walkie-talkie away, and proceeded out of the building, carefully walking over the dead Fiends. And lurking behind him was another IDA Camera Bot.
"Now this is a guy who knows how to fucking ROCK!" Exclaimed Slick's voice over the camera. "Eddie Riggs comes from an Alternate Earth where the very origins of modern society come from HEAVY METAL! Everything about the place is metal, even the trees have EXHAUST PIPES FOR BRANCHES!"
"Eddie Riggs' father, the legendary Riggnarock, went to the future alongside the Demon Emperor Succoria," Rick explained, reciting the Agent's history. "And the two ended up having a child, Eddie. During a concert which nearly lead to his death, a powerful Fire God known as Ormaggoden sent Eddie back in time to the Age of Metal, and ended up leading in a revolutionary war against the Tainted Coil Demons and the infamous Sea of Black Tears. He's a legend of metal in his own right."
"Dude used to be one of the best Roadies in the business before he became the head of the metal militia." Slick said.
"Riggs was selected to join the IDA after a Rift opened up in the Age of Metal," Rick explained. "Which resulted in Steam Golems from Tyria nearly tore the place apart before Ironheade and Agents corrected the situation. He still works with Ironheade, but still finds time to work as a Solo Agent."
"Eddie's got two primary tools of his arsenal," Slick said. "A kickass axe that belonged to his mother, the Demon Succoria known as the Separator, a magically enchanted axe that is fond of taking heads. His other axe, a super-powerful guitar named Clementine, is capable of playing weaponized guitar riffs of varying effects, ranging from melting faces, inspiring allies, and dropping massive flaming lead zeppelins of death upon unsuspecting foes. IT'S AWESOME! Just be glad Dethklok doesn't have that kind of musical power."
"Eddie is also one of the leading members of Ironheade," Rick said. "The Human army of the Age of Metal, and also one of the major factions of the Ultimate Tournament, many of whom appear to be located in the Metalworks area, and consists almost entirely of Metalheads."
"Every Metalhead archetype is in their ranks!" Slick said. "I once dated one of their Razor Girls, their ranged infantry, and it was sweet for a while, but those god damn Hog Riders kept cock-blocking me!"
"Never go up against bassists, my friend." Rick said in a condescending voice. "Especially when women are involved."
"Eh, she was a Seven anyway." Slick said. Suddenly, it sounded as if Slick moved closer to the mic and began whispering. "Hey, if you're listening, Tess, I'm available Friday for a date if you're done with that punk with the mustache, and I'll actually pay this ti-*smack*-GAH!"
"No personal messages on the air, Official Slick!"
Location: New Super Zone, Urbania Gate
Constantly contested by Gotham Criminals
Created as a haven for superheroes from various universes, especially the ones revered in Earth, the New Super Zone has been constantly built and destroyed not only by the superhuman residents of the universes, but also by the villains and criminal masterminds who followed them. With rise of the Ultimate Tournament, and the promise of wish as a reward, the heroes and villains immediately began racing to the top to some varying degrees of success. In the meantime, the gangs lead by the villains held their ground against other competing factions. In fact, the Clown Prince of Crime, Gotham's own Joker, had a firm hand in domination portions of the area, something the Saints had trouble dealing with when they decided to move out.
On the edge of a bridge leading out of the Zone, thugs wearing clown masks and makeup shot at a group of Saints behind a makeshift blockade, completely overwhelming the purple clothed gang. The Clowns had both numbers and superior firepower, but the Saints had something else on their side: Johnny Gat. Amongst their numbers, the Saints had with them a man with black, crew-cut hair, sunglasses with blue lens, a purple jacket and white undershirt, and a pair of heavy duty SMGs, and he looked as though he was having the time of his life. The self-proclaimed 'Most Dangerous Man in Existence', Johnny Gat may have complained that the Clowns were overwhelming them, but it still meant he got to shoot someone in the face. Granted, after nearly an hour, he was running out of bullets.
"Damn, I wish I took the halo with me." Gat muttered, putting a hole in a Clown's forehead. He had orders to clear the road so the Saints could move on, but Joker's goons were everywhere. One of them, a guy wearing a clown mask and a green hoodie, stood atop a fallen car with a rocket launcher, and aimed it right at Gat.
"Give it up, Saints!" The Clown shouted. "Joker's got strict orders not to let anyone past this bridge, and I'm sure as shit not gonna let that happen!" With rapid movement, the thug fired the launcher, sending a rocket soaring at the Saints. Johnny jumped out of the way, luckily the rocket shot across the road above the purple garbed gang, but it was flying directly towards someone at the edge of the road.
"Get down!" Johnny shouted, but it was too late. Covering his eyes from the explosion, the Clowns began hollering at their apparent kill. However, once the smoke cleared away, everyone's jaws dropped as they saw something extraordinary. The rocket didn't do anything. Walking out of the smoke, as though nothing ever happened, was a gigantic figure adorned in a menacing suit of dark armor. It was a humanoid figure, armored head to toe, a long red cape sweeping over his shoulder, a great helmet obscuring his face in dark shadows, save for two ominous, glowing red eyes. On his left hand was a large gauntlet, a glowing orange gem on the back, emanating with an unnatural energy. In his left, a gigantic, sinister mace. Whoever he was, he was terrifying to say the least.
"Who the hell?" Muttered one of the Saints. The armored man began to stomp forward, craters impacting in the ground as he walked, an evil energy crackling about in the air. He reached the fortifications of the Saints, and shifted his head towards Johnny, as if he were staring into his soul himself.
"Move." He said in a booming, dark voice. Johnny hesitated, but whoever this guy was, he sure knew how to give orders. Almost by instinct, if the Boss himself were commanding them, the Saints backed away from the gigantic menace. As he strode past the barricade, the Clowns hesitantly prepared their weapons.
"H-h-hey!" Said the now terrified Clown that had foolishly blasted him. "Nobody's g-g-getting past us! Joker's orders!" The armored man continued onward. One of the Clowns, either out of fear or spontaneous bravery, took a shot at the armored man. The bullet harmlessly ricocheted off the armor, and struck into the leg of one of the other Clowns. The armored man turned towards the Clown, hate burning in his glowing red eyes, as he raised his glowing gauntlet at the fool. A flaming ball of fire shot from his hand, and roasted not only the offending Clown, but also four others and parts of the fortification. Without a moment's hesitation, he moved further.
"Holy shit." Johnny said, adjusting his sunglasses. The other Clowns began to fearfully fire at the attacker, but the bullets did nothing. In response, he hefted a truck with a single hand and hurled it at the rest of the Clowns, crushing them beneath the weight of the vehicle. Slowly, the armored behemoth slowly reached the Clown that fired a rocket at him, who only whimpered as every round of his pistol went towards his target until it went click.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!" The Clown screamed. The armored man grabbed the Clown by the neck and hoisted him up into the air, nearly three feet off the ground.
"Never cross the Overlord, mortal." He spoke, and with a twist of his wrist and a satisfying snap, the Clown fell dead upon the ground, his neck completely bent backwards. The Overlord turned towards the Saints, most of whom wore faces of pure terror, except for Johnny, who displayed no emotion, and slung his mace to his hip. "Know this, stand in my way and you'll face He Who Conquered Hell itself." And with that, the Overlord turned and continued walking down the road, leaving the Saints in a state of shock and bewilderment. As the Overlord continued down the empty road, he felt a calling in the back of his mind.
"My lord? My lord, are you there?" Said a disembodied, almost scratchy voice, only the Overlord could hear.
"Gnarl, of course I can damn well hear you." The Overlord said out loud. "I trust your usage of the faux Tower Heart means you've reached the Lookout Watch?"
"Yes, I have, your Darkness." Said the voice, Gnarl. "And I've already commenced the search for the Minion Hives. The IDA was clever to hide them across the area to avoid giving you an advantage, but it will prove fruitless when you lead your army of minions and gain title of Champion."
"Victory will be a delicious taste, my loyal Minion Master." The Overlord evilly said. "I'll be there in a short while, try and keep out of trouble." Unbeknownst to the armored evil-doer, hiding behind a street lamp was an IDA Security Bot.
"Oh, now there's a truly evil menace right there." Said the voice of Slick. "The Overlord, a purely evil monster from a land of magic and fantasy, and his lineage is responsible for conquering it and tearing it apart with an army of hideous Minions."
"According to research, the Overlord of his universe is a title given to the most evil of people," Said the voice of Rick. "Either through heritage or just a transfer of power, the Minion Master, currently an old codger named Gnarl, would gift them the Minion Gauntlet, an arcane artifact able to command the hordes of minions or summon inner dark magic. In IDA history, only two Overlords have been properly examined, the one you see here, and his father."
"Evil Armor's daddy, the previous Overlord," Slick said. "Earned his name by slaughtering the Seven Fallen Heroes, including his predecessor who possessed a Wizard, and was banished into Hell, which he conquered in a day by stabbing the Devil in the heart. He's currently sitting on a Throne of Evil, and has been unable to leave, by force or by choice, we're not sure. Needless to say, this guy is horrifying."
"Our currently Overlord, an Agent of the IDA," Rick explained. "Was the son of his father's mistress, a woman named Rose, and rose to power after conquering four separate nations and completely destroying the Glorious Empire, a totalitarian monarchy that destroyed anything they deemed lesser. Needless to say, the Overlord holds mighty power that the IDA desperately needed. He and his army of Minions were recruited by the IDA, and he shares a reluctant seat alongside the Netherworld Overlords. Apparently, demons and humans alike have tried to fight him for his position, and nobody has been victorious."
"I'm telling you, that bastard is terrifying." Slick said. "I accidentally spilled coffee on his cape, and he bent my legs in a way I did not know was actually possible."
"I remember, I saw." Rick shuddered. "I mean, you became a human pretzel for Pete's sake. Anyway, in terms of abilities, the Overlord has incredible amounts of strength and power, able to overpower his enemies in single combat. Wielding a choice of enchanted sword, axe, or mace, the Overlord would demolish his enemies before they could even react. In addition, the Overlord is also a master of magical spells, such as blasts of flame, a magical shield, spells to enhance his own Minions, and his horrific Dark Essence spell."
"I saw him use that once." Slick said, gulping loudly. "It was awful. The spell essentially destroys everything about the victim. First, it erases the memories and spirit of the victim, reducing them into a mindless husk. Then, it corrupts them, turning them into an obedient, loyal slave to the Overlord. And if that guy wanted to go further, it absorbs the very spirit of the person, turning him into nothing but essence for big bad himself. It's scary."
"Speaking of scary, the Overlord's army of Minions attribute much to him as his own spells." Rick continued. "Incubated in Hives, birthed from Life Essence in fallen creatures, the imp-like Minions are the loyal servants to the Overlord, following his every order and command even towards their deaths. The Four different breeds of Minions each serve a different purpose, and have unique colorization to distinguish themselves. Not to mention, they use whatever tools they can get their hands on to fight or protect themselves."
"Brown Minions are the blunt bruisers of Minions," Slick recounted. "They like to smash first and ask questions later. They're also incredibly stupid, but somehow manage to last longer than other Minions. Red Minions are little pyromaniacs, using fire magic to light people on fire. They also are immune to flames themselves, and happen to be pretty obnoxious when I'm trying to take a nap and one of them gives me a goddamn HOT FOOT!"
"Are you sure that's not because you keep your feet propped next to your ashtray and you keep kicking it in your sleep?" Rick snidely asked.
"IT'S THOSE RED PUNKS AND I KNOW IT!" Slick shouted. "Now, Green Minions are sneaky little pricks, they're poison resistant and know how to keep out of sight when they need too. They also smell like fish-guts and really bad aftershave. BLEH!"
"Kinda like you on Friday night."
"Yeah, but when I do it, I've been partying. They pull it off naturally. And lastly we've got the Blue Minions. They've got gills, so they're the only Minions that can swim. Plus, they're experts at healing magic, so they can bring their fallen comrades back from the dead. They're also complete cowards, and can't fight back for shit."
"At the moment, the IDA has taken liberty to scatter the Minion Hives to prevent the Overlord from having an unfair advantage." Rick said.
"How the hell would that be unfair?" Slick loudly asked. "So what if he's got his army? Everyone else has some sort of faction, why's he so different?" A pause. "Wait, let me guess, it's because the higher ups think he'd just let the Minions do all the dirty work for him? So the oh-so-terrifying Overlord doesn't have to break a nail?"
"Uh… Slick?"
"That's it, isn't it? The IDA knows the Overlord would let his Minions kill for him so he can get the wish, am I right?"
"Slick, you might wanna-"
"I'm calling it! The dreaded Overlord is a lazy piece of crap! And ain't nothin' going to get me to say otherwi-"
"SLICK!"
"WHAT?!"
"He's looking directly at the camera." Sure enough, the commotion the two were causing over the Bot's speakers had gained the attraction of the Overlord, and if the burning coals that were his eyes meant anything, he was not at all pleased. With quick movements, the Overlord grabbed the robot, and between his armored hands, crushed the metal orb with the ease of a snowball, and proceeded to walk away. "You and your big mouth."
"… Hold me."
Location: Urbania, Saint's Forward Base #3
One of the many risks of establishing a base for a faction in the Ultimate Arena is it pretty much paints one big target on your heads. The Saints, however, didn't care, but were regretting it as their purple and white building was being endlessly assaulted by men in yellow and orange butterfly costumes. Such a scenario would be laughable, but the fact that these Henchmen were armed with poison dart guns kind of turned the laughter situation off. Especially since some of them were flying. Leading the attacking group was a stocky built Henchman, wearing a sleeveless body armor, revealing his bulky muscles, and had a five o'clock shadow of a beard, the number 21 imprinted on his shoulder.
"Give it up, Saints!" Shouted 21, a retractable blade unsheathing from his right gauntlet. "The Monarch wants this place, and you street punks just keep getting in the way." One certain Saint, an African American man wearing a white jacket, purple undershirt, and white golfer's cap, stuck his head out the window and simply flipped 21 off.
"Bitch, the Saints ain't goin' nowhere!" The black man shouted. "Especially not to some stupid costumed punks with dart guns!"
"These punks with dart guns are killing more than half your men, Pierce!" 21 responded. "Look, you and I both know there's no negotiating with the Monarch or the Boss, so just back down and we promise not to kill any more of you!" Gunshots rang out, narrowly missing 21, who simply looked bemused. "I guess that's a no, then."
"Say 'hi' to #65 for me on the other side!" Pierce shouted, cocking his pistol. "That bitch owes me money!" The gunfight continued, as more Saints and Henchmen fell to the ground dead, their bodies exploding in digital light as they were reconstructed elsewhere, eliminated from the Tournament. As the bullets and darts shot across the air, a loud engine roaring shot through the air, distracting everyone and temporarily ceasing all violence. "The hell is that? Reinforcements?" An explosion rocked the area as a nearby oil tanker burst into flames, and someone riding a large motorcycle shot through the wreckage, the vehicle crashing into several Henchmen as the rider dropped down.
He was a stout, muscular man, with sleeked back black hair, a grizzled beard along his jawline as a cigarette sat in his mouth. He was wearing a black leather jacket, dark grey jeans, fingerless leather biker gloves, and biker goggles on his forehead. His entire right arm was robotic, connecting to his shoulder, and appeared to be concealing something. On the back of the new arrival's jacket was a picture of a skull and crossbones surrounded by a chain circle, with the bones replaced with wrenches. The man grumbled, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and glanced at the Henchmen.
"Can someone point me in the direction of the Lookout Watch?" The man grumbled in a harsh voice as he dropped his cigarette and stomped it beneath his boot. "I'm in a hurry and I don't want to waste my time killing a bunch of punks." Out of both curiosity (and a little bit of stupidity), 21 stepped forward, cautiously retracting his knife.
"Do you mind?" 21 asked, a little annoyed. "We're kind of in the middle of something." He raised his arm, pointing the knife at the biker. "So, if you don't want to get eliminated, I suggest you get back on your bike before I gut you for killing some of my boys."
"Put that toothpick away, kid." The biker said, hefting his robotic arm. "You don't want anything of what I am now. And besides, that's not an arm-mounted weapon." With a short move of his arm, a fully-active, loudly roaring, chainsaw shot out of his forearm. "This is." 21 stepped back, eyes widening behind his red goggles.
"Holy shit, you're Jack Cayman." 21 said, shocked and frightened. "Not worth it!" He turned to the rest of the Henchmen, who also shared his expression behind their uniforms. "Henchmen, fall back and regroup at the Cocoon! It's not worth it fighting with a DeathWatcher!" Either on foot or on wings, the Henchmen quickly evacuated the area, leaving the Saints some chance at revelry, while Jack Cayman lit himself another cigarette as he looked up at Pierce.
"Now, I'm going to ask again," Jack said, a bit more forcefully. "Which way to the Lookout Watch?"
"Just turn left to get back onto the road," Pierce said, pointing with his gun. "Just keep heading straight and turn right once you reach the Poseidon Gas Station. If you hit the Deus Ex Augmentation Building, you've gone too far." Jack nodded, getting back on his motorcycle, and drove off. Pierce watched the biker with awe, remembering the stories about him. What he didn't notice, however, was the IDA Camera Bot floating right next to him.
"Hey, Pierce, smile and wave for the audience back home!" Slick's voice said, startling the black man. "You're on live TV, dude!"
"Slick! We're doing something important here!" Rick's voice objected as Pierce watched the metallic orb hover in front of him. "Get to reading the stuff on Jack Cayman!"
"Fine, I'll do it, you nag!" Slick grumbled. "If there's anyone almost guaranteed to win the Ultimate Tournament, Jack Cayman might damn well be one of the closest. In his universe, Jack Cayman was in pretty much every military branch. Police, marines, Navy SEALS, Special Ops, CIA, FBI, and a rogue agent for the Chasers Guild, Jack's pretty much done it all. His most notable of achievements, however, is his reigning champion status of DeathWatch!"
"DeathWatch is a bloodsport television show," Rick explained. "In which contestants murder each other to rise in the ranks and win the $100,000,000 prize at the top. The show is allegedly run by a terrorist group known as the Organizers, who apparently have gone dark since the most recent DeathWatch game in Varrigan City, which was also the last DeathWatch game Jack competed in."
"Jack fell off the face of the earth after that," Slick said. "Until reemerging as a bounty hunter for the Chasers in the now post-apocalyptic world, kicking ass against mutants and other people who stood in his way. He signed on with the IDA after one of his 'frenemies', the Black Baron (or as he sometimes calls himself, the Blacker Baron), recommended him to us for some jobs. Jack works as a solo agent, but rumors circulate that he still holds ties to the Chasers, a group that has not been favorably looked upon by the IDA."
"Can you blame them?" Rick asked. "I mean, they were harboring a Shard Fugitive, and refused to divulge any information to us for security reasons. I think a Universal Power trying to win a war has higher authority than a government agency."
"Shut up, nobody cares what you think." Slick interrupted. "Anywho, onto the abilities. Jack is a goddamn tank. The dude's so strong, he could get hit by a care and walk away with a damn bruise! If his punches don't do much, the arm-mounted mechanized chainsaw works just as well. He carves through people like trees with that thing, and it's even strong enough to cut through solid steel! Not to mention he's got that sweet ass motorcycle he drives around in. Seriously, if he weren't such a loner, I would totally hang out with him!"
"Maybe he'd like you too," Rick said. "If you didn't smell like a Dispensary and an Ashtray rolled into one."
"Ignoring that!" Slick shouted. "Hey, Pierce, what are your thoughts on Jack Cayman?" The Saint put a hand to his chin, thinking hard about the question.
"That psycho with a chainsaw who just saved our asses?" Pierce thought. "He's definitely going to be one helluva challenge getting to the top, but I think the Boss or Gat could take him."
"With or without that stolen armor you Saints got from the Zin?" Slick asked. "Because I'm surprised we let him actually have that thing, given how powerful it is."
"Hell if I know." Pierce admitted. "Now if this interview is over…" Without warning, Pierce placed the barrel of his gun on the eye of the robot and pulled the trigger, a sizeable hole now inside the slowly dying robot. As the Saint walked away, he could faintly here the voice of Rick complaining about how people keep blowing up the cameras, before the robot exploded.
"And that, Agents and Officials," Slick said, pounding his desk in the radio room. "Was a quick highlight reel of some of the IDA Ultimate Tournament, and boy howdy, am I excited!"
"You and me both, my friend!" Rick laughed. "With such fierce competitors and high stakes, we can only hope for a bloody tournament. Who knows, maybe this year, someone will actually defeat the current Champion?"
"Now that's a sight worth seeing!" Slick said. "Once again, we will be covering on the fly coverage of the Tournament, featuring scenes from various competitors and events alike, for the entire weekly running time! Now, let's all relax with DJ Slick's Musical Moment, and jam out to some good ole fashion ROCK AND ROLL, featuring Guns 'N' Roses!"
"Welcome to the jungle we've got fun and games. We got everything you want honey, we know the names! We are the people that can find whatever you may need! If you got the money honey we got your disease…."
Author's Note: And here we meet the main cast. Travis Touchdown and Sylvia are from Suda51's No More Heroes series. Eddie Riggs and Magnus are from Double Fine's Brutal Legends,the Overlord and Gnarl are from The Overlord series, Jack Cayman is from Platinum Game'sMadWorld (and Anarchy Reigns), the Saints are from Volition's Saint's Row series, the Blue Suns are from Bioware's Mass Effect series, the Fiends are from Bethesda's Fallout New Vegas, the Joker's Goons are from Marvel's Batman, and the Monarch's Henchmen and Henchman 21 are from Adult Swim's Venture Bros.
Rick and Slick are IDA Original Characters
(The ending song is the first few lyrics from the Guns 'N Roses song "Welcome to the Jungle")