There's a store, there's a street, there are people walking and talking and even if the city isn't in the best shape it's still a city. There are the sounds of footsteps, of someone's laugh a little down the way, and then -
- then, there aren't.
(Exhale.)
Even as the light filters in, it's muted, at once grayed all around and overbright where it breaks through the clouds. These clouds are dark and heavy with the the rain that's still falling - didn't you notice? your hands are getting wet and cold already - onto the ground, a ubiquitous sort of pattering that seems loud as soon as it becomes noticeable.
There's no more city, at least not visibly. Instead, there's an open-air stadium in greys and blues and greens, colors dark with water and scant light. Rising to one side is an enormous statue, dominating the view - a winged Lady Justice, all gilded, watching what is about to transpire.
(She'll be watching the show as much as anyone else.)
Barnaby walks out into the rain like he remembers, boots (boots?) making ripples in the puddles.
"Well!"
It's a familiar voice, feminine and blithely cheerful, belonging to a woman nearby. She isn't talking to him, of course, but to her animated stuffed toys recording everything.
"Thanks for waiting! A new challenger has appeared." She gestures to him before going on. "The fourth challenger in Jake's Seven Matches...the Revenge Boy looking for vengeance!"
He's not listening to her, not really, more distracted by the emptiness of the field before him because -
"Oh dear," she says in a theatrical faux concern. "What's going on? I don't see Jake anywhere..."
There's a laugh from up above that starts a chuckle and turns maniacal, and he looks up. The only other warning is the sound of fingers snapping before the barrage of attacks (flashes of light that are blinding as the explosives strike the ground around him), none of which connecting as he dodges until one does, throwing him back.
Fight with Jake
There's a store, there's a street, there are people walking and talking and even if the city isn't in the best shape it's still a city. There are the sounds of footsteps, of someone's laugh a little down the way, and then -
- then, there aren't.
(Exhale.)
Even as the light filters in, it's muted, at once grayed all around and overbright where it breaks through the clouds. These clouds are dark and heavy with the the rain that's still falling - didn't you notice? your hands are getting wet and cold already - onto the ground, a ubiquitous sort of pattering that seems loud as soon as it becomes noticeable.
There's no more city, at least not visibly. Instead, there's an open-air stadium in greys and blues and greens, colors dark with water and scant light. Rising to one side is an enormous statue, dominating the view - a winged Lady Justice, all gilded, watching what is about to transpire.
(She'll be watching the show as much as anyone else.)
Barnaby walks out into the rain like he remembers, boots (boots?) making ripples in the puddles.
"Well!"
It's a familiar voice, feminine and blithely cheerful, belonging to a woman nearby. She isn't talking to him, of course, but to her animated stuffed toys recording everything.
"Thanks for waiting! A new challenger has appeared." She gestures to him before going on. "The fourth challenger in Jake's Seven Matches...the Revenge Boy looking for vengeance!"
He's not listening to her, not really, more distracted by the emptiness of the field before him because -
"Oh dear," she says in a theatrical faux concern. "What's going on? I don't see Jake anywhere..."
There's a laugh from up above that starts a chuckle and turns maniacal, and he looks up. The only other warning is the sound of fingers snapping before the barrage of attacks (flashes of light that are blinding as the explosives strike the ground around him), none of which connecting as he dodges until one does, throwing him back.
"Wow! He's staged a fabulous ambush...!"