THE GRAND SWITCH [ROUND 1: iGHETTO]

The Literary Group sat around their suitably posh coffee table, in their rather classy high-rise apartment. A window made of pure diamonds overlooked the sea of universes, churning, churing; a thousand civilizations being born and dying in a millisecond. Everyone was wearing rather nice tuxedos.

“So,” one of them said, sipping a glass of wine. “We’ve just finished reading G’fthat Poth-ykan Norteps. Does anyone have some suggestions of what we do next?”

For a long while, everyone was silent.

“Well,” another said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Have we read A Tale of Two Cities yet?”

Another sighed, replying, “Yes, Reginald. We read it last Tuesday. I think we’ve run out of books.”

“Well, what are we going to do, then!?” questioned another.

Yet another spoke, slowly and carefully. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been hearing about these things called Grand Battles. The people that run these take people and creatures from all across the universe and put them in a battle to the death. I’m thinking we could do something like that. We do have a sizeable section of the multiverse outside our window.”

“That’s a good idea,” the first one said, taking another sip of alcohol. “How about this: We each go out into the multiverse, select one or two champions, and come back. But here’s the twist: We’ll randomly switch champions with each other! How does that sound?”

“Splendid!”
“Cool!”
“Ok, I guess.”

****

What is this?

This is a Grand Battle with a twist. If you don’t know what a Grand Battle is, check the Grand Battle threads in ET or on the Collab/Roleplay section of the MSPAforums. Honestly though if you’re on ET you probably have a general idea of what a Grand Battle is.

The twist is, however, that you will not be writing for the character you submit. Someone else will, and you’ll be writing for a character another person entered. Fun times!

If you’re interested, put a post down stating such. I’m shooting for anywhere between 4-8 peeps.

Alright, after you state your general intent of joining this shindig, pop me a PM with the profile of your character. Your profile should look something like this:

Code:

Name: No username required. I don’t really want people to know who wrote what profile, but regardless, a username is irrelevant in this situation.

Gender: Male, Female, None, or Other. If other, explain.

Race: What is your character? Human, alien, robot, something else? If the species/race needs explaining, explain it here, too.

Colour: Colour the character’s text will be written in. I will ask you to change colours that are annoying or unreadable. Purple is taken.

Weapons/Abillities: What special powers or weapons does your character have?

Description: What does your character look like? What about personality?

Biography: I consider this a zone to basically explain your character in full. People just write stuff here.

NOTE: DO NOT WRITE A PROFILE DESIGNED TO TROLL SOMEONE. I will not accept such profiles and I will disqualify you for them, unless obviously marked as a joke accompanied by the real profile.

Once we get all the profiles in, I will randomly select what profile goes to who, maybe/probably with a d20 or random chance thing. I will post who got what profile in the game-starter post.

And then grand battling happens.

I guess you can go write profiles and stuff, then.

I'm up for this. I need some time to come up with a good character for someone though.

I'm in. I wanted to do this some months ago, but we never got around to it.

I just need to think of a fun character to toss to somebody else.

Okay, yea this sounds fun.

I should be up for it if I somehow pull time out of a hat.

*Pulls Time out of a hat*

Ohai Time. :3

Hell yeah I'm interested.

I'm interested

I'd like to consider this a reserve of interest too please!

Cyber sent me a profile, so that's eight contestants.

We're waiting on Woodlandbeef, Mirdini, and Agent to get this started, then. Hurry up guys!

Waaaaaaah hold on to your horses Time, I'm getting thereeee :3

<--- This guy will send in a proper profile tonight if it kills him.

ALRIGHT WE HAVE ALL OF THE PROFILES.

In order for everyone (including me) to prepare for THE GRAND SWITCH, I'm posting everyone's profiles along with their designations here!

Solaris-

SpoilerShow

Name: Dylan "The Drive" Houle

Gender: Male

Race: Pro Wrestler

Colour: #BF0000

Weapons/Abilities: Able to wield anything as an improvised weapon efficiently, particularly blunt objects. Gains power with encouragement from others, especially cheering from fans. A successful three second pin instantly can deprive the target of almost all energy. Pretty much any 'power' that a wrestler apparently seems to have, he has.
Carries an 80's boombox at the start of every event, which doesn't usually stay intact.

Description: Sports a blonde mullet, shades, a ripped physique, no shirt, and tattoos with phrases that went out of style in the 90s. He carries an 80s/90s demeanor in style and personality, as well as an extreme enthusiasm in bringing the pain to chumps. He was a face for a while, but currently he's a heel, upset at modern culture because his era's culture was better. This basically means fighting anybody who thinks 50 cent is better than Vanilla Ice, or would rather play Halo over Contra.

Biography: Wrestling is real, god dammit! It's real to The Drive, anyways. He started his wrestling career in the late 80s as a celebration of everything in pop culture. He would always bring in a boombox playing the latest hits before bashing it over the head of his opponent. As his style started getting out of date, he started being more about remembering the recent past, and then the somewhat distant past. His fellow wrestlers are often a little uncomfortable about him, thanks to a strange occurrence during a match in October of 1998. The opponent was Sanzo El Grieva. There was a storyline going on with the two and this was a pretty anticipated 'final match' between the two. Unfortunately, there was a bit of misuse with one of the props. A ladder, in particular. El Grieva hit a bit too hard, and gave him a bit of a nasty concussion. His brain was damaged a bit, and that was when Dylan Houle lost all touch with reality. When he woke up a few days later, as far as he was concerned, he was simply The Drive. He was absolutely convinced that all these fights, all those convulted plotlines and rivalries were all the real thing. The cheering of the crowd really gave him power, and a simple pin was the true key to incapacitate anybody. And there must have been something to it, because the sheer power of his belief managed to give him these abilities. The Federation did what any company would do in the situation of a mentally injured worker. They worked around it!
Since telling The Drive that it was all fake wasn't seeming to work, they scheduled him as per usual, making sure to have a few extra precautions surrounding his fights. He actually regained some of his lost popularity again, thanks to the passion he brought to the ring. They managed to work with this for a good 12 years, before he got snatched up by a bored group of interdimensional socialites.

Dragon Fogel-

SpoilerShow

Name: Grizzald

Gender: Male

Race: Dragon

Colour: #0800AA

Weapons/Abilities: Grizzald can emit clouds of opaque, toxic gas. He is resistant to the toxin, but not immune to it. He can also fly if he has enough room to take off.

He also has a large golden trophy in the shape of an obelisk that he is bound to, and is compelled to protect at all costs. It was taken along with him when he was abducted due to the specifics of a contract he made.

Description: Grizzald is a large, quadrupedal dragon with navy blue scales, nearly sixteen feet long from head to tail. He has a flat, spade-like head with large blue eyes, slit-like nostrils, and a mouth full of sharp teeth. He has a wingspan several yards wide to boot. He has three talons on each of his four feet, except for his front left foot, which has only two because of an old fight.

Biography:

Sir Pellinore shoved open the doors to the keep. "Iâ??m here to take you down, Grizzald!" he shouted, voice echoing off the cavernous walls.

Grizzald picked up his head, nearly the size of Pellinore himself, and stared at the knight. "Take me down? I expected something more knightly," he rumbled bemusedly, shifting around on his ridiculously cliche pile of gold, jewels, and various magical artifacts.

Pellinore coughed awkwardly. "Oh. Um. Prepare thee, Grizzald, for I have come to take thee down!...how's that?" He raised his lance half-heartedly, then sighed. "No, that's not right either, is it?"

Grizzald chuckled, a small cloud of purple smoke billowing out from his nostrils. "You're not even trying now. I thought you wanted to practice for if you had to actually take on a dragon?"

"Not if, when!" Pellinore turned his nose up to the dragon, quite a feat given the height difference. "Artie's planning on giving me a dangerous quest soon, I'll have you know!"

Grizzald moved his head closer to the knight, neck snaking out from the glittering pile. "Oh, really? Who'll you be killing?" He smirked, but if Pellinore hadn't known him for a while he'd have mistaken the extensive show of fangs to be a hostile gesture.

Pellinore made a show of examining a remarkably ordinary pattern of stones on the wall, mind churning. "Um, uh, erm, I...I'll have you know it's not about killing!" He turned back around, struck by an idea. "In fact, he's going to be having me rescue an entire village! Pretty heroic, eh?"

He looked so smug Grizzald simply didn't have the heart to rain on his parade. "Well, it sounds like they're in good hands then. Good luck with your quest." But even so, he couldn't resist another jab. "I can't wait to hear all about it when you get back," he rumbled, rolling around so his head was upside down. "You know I don't get out much...well, ever. You're the only link I have with the outside world."

Pellinore kicked one of the many skulls lying around the chamber. "Good thing you listened to me when I told you I wasn't here for the treasure, eh?" He looked quizzically up at Grizzald. "Say, you've never actually told me how you were trapped guarding this treasure."

Grizzald snorted at the knight. "Oh, come on. Why do you need to know?"

Pellinore shrugged. "I'm just curious."

Grizzald averted his eyes. "It's...private."

Pellinore raised an eyebrow in a remarkably dashing manner. "I always tell you stories about my life in the outside world, I think it's time you told me one about your past."

"But...it's embarrassing."

"If I could tell you the story about falling through the stable roof while wearing full plate mail, you can darn well tell me thisstory."

"Fine, fine," Grizzald muttered, rolling back over and resting his head on the floor in front of Pellinore. "Back when I was a young dragon, only a few decades old, I had this marvelous cache of treasure. Oh, you'd never seen such a beaut. I had the most amazing ruby in it, inside the pommel of this enchanted sword that..." Pellinore coughed, and Grizzald halted. "Erm. Yes. Anyway, one day, a young man came into my lair. Before I could strike him down, he challenged me to a duel. If I won, his entire village would dedicate themselves to my service."

Pellinore leaned closer. "And if you lost?"

Grizzald grunted, glancing to the side. "I'm getting there, don't rush me. So, like the young fool I was, I agreed. Little did I know the man was a sorcerer, and he easily defeated me. Now, you see, the opposite end of the contract was that if I lost, not only would he get my treasure, but I'd have to guard it for him against anyone else who sought to take it." The dragon sighed, and Pellinore held his breath and scrambled to the side as a thick cloud of purple smog rolled out of Grizzald's nostrils. "As a result, I've been stuck in this tower for the last few decades, as you know." He looked up at an open window far near the top of the cathedral-like keep the two were sitting in. "It's never until something is taken from you that you really understand its value, you know? I never planned on doing anything but sit in my cave with my treasure, but it was nice to know that the option to leave was always there. Now that that village has been stomped on..."

Pellinore cleared his throat and looked at Grizzald pointedly.

"...I mean, now that that's not a choice anymore, I'd like nothing more than to take it. Sorry, it just slipped out."

"Wait, so that's really yours?" Pellinore moved closer to inspect the pile of treasure, but backed off hurriedly when he realized Grizzald was growling at him. "Eh heh heh, sorry."

Grizzald nosed him away from the pile, and the growling in his throat ceased. "Sorry. Blame it on the contract."

Pellinore began making his way towards the doors. "I should get going. I've got manure duty--I mean, I've got to go save some helpless children from a burning hut."

Grizzald cocked his head slightly. "Come back soon, please. I enjoy our visits." He laid it on the floor. "Maybe next time I'll tell you about some guy who tried to steal the sorcerer's--my treasure. Called himself Sir Robin. Shat his pants and ran the moment I looked at him."

Pellinore chuckled and closed the doors. Grizzald sighed and pulled his head back up, staring forlornly out the window near the ceiling. Not many clouds today, he thought to himself. I bet it's beautiful out.

Ixcalibur-

SpoilerShow

Name: ESS Pyreness and her actingcrew

Gender: By technicality, 'her' when referring to the ship.

Race: Human, machine, alien.

Colour: Onyx

Weapons/Abillities: Four dual-barrel plasma cannon turrets. Five dual-barrel laser turrets. Deflector and thermal shields. High density composite alloy hull. Magnetic tractor beam. Hi-power sensory equipment. Twin Star Crusher engines. Complete with a full crew led by the one and only, Admiral Huxley. (There's plenty of beings on board, but to name them all would be suicidal)

Biography: This program and it's contents may be unsuitable for children under the age of fourteen. Parental discretion is advised.

The year is 3490. The Earth Republic has extended far beyond the reaches of the Milky Way and has come into contact with life on many new planets in many new solar systems. Some are friendly, others are not so much. The Cordalian Empire seeks to destroy the Earth Republic and space pirates seek to plunder anything they come across. Times are troubled and some fear the war will end badly for the Republic.

One thing stands in their way though...

The ESS Pyreness and the Earth Republic Armada! Commanded by Admiral Huxley, the Pyreness and her crew have taken on challenge after challenge across the galaxies to protect those of the Republic and other civilizations from the great evil that is the Cordalian Empire!

This. Is. Galaxy Guardians!

(Insert explosions and space fights for dramatic effect)

Galaxy Guardians aired in 2020 as a television miniseries following the desire for the continuation of an epic science fiction universe, particularly geared for adolescents. The show itself is a generic good vs. evil plot with a bit of drama, mystery, and action for the older audiences, while retaining a cartoonish animation style to appease the younger generations. Critics were biased at the initial introduction of the show as a whole due to its very peculiar similarities to the more infamous sci-fi stories of both Star Wars and Star Trek; including the multitudes of spin-off series follow ups.

Despite the harshness of reviews, families welcomed the new series with open minds and arms as it touched a lot of hearts that had grown up with the older, original sci-fi series. It was good to see something new for a change actually. The first season's airing drew in a large crowd and also incited the development of a toy line for marketing. The second season started in 2025 after episode thirty culminating in the death of Pyreness's original commander, Captain Schwartz. The voice actor's contract had run out and was unwilling to continue the series on such low pay. A new actor was brought in and Admiral Huxley was recruited as the new commander of the Pyreness.

Season 2's reintroduction along with phenomenal writing for Huxley's character put the show in top standings for public television. It got so good that a little cult had started and grew exponentially by the third season's release in 2032. The marketing for Galaxy Guardians had skyrocketed so much that it began to rival that of the ages old Star Wars and Star Trek fanbase. Fully functional model toys, designer clothing, movies, books, conventions, you name it. It was a show that was truly sweeping the globe...and then suddenly...

The series was cancelled at episode 83 for unspecified reasons. To the public, it was just simply that funding was cut which caused the third season to end unfinished (on a huge cliffhanger too). To those who worked in the company, it was as if the entire acting staff had been snatched right out from under their noses. Nobody knows where they've suddenly disappeared to, but the resulting chaos has put the producers on the verge of bankruptcy. There was also an incident with the head artist's original model of the Pyreness being stolen, but nobody seems to have thought much about it.

Description: ESS Pyreness is a sleek flagship of the Earth Republic Armada. Built to travel the cosmos and protect the Republic and outlying colonies from the Cordalian Empire and evil space pirates. She, and her proud crew, have traveled far beyond the Milky Way and back and the wear and tear on the chrome white hull shows. The ship's frame is a long rectangle with twin wings on the aft end where the Star Crusher engines protrude. From the front it looks somewhat like an inverted triangle save for the bridge standing proud on a kind of 'neck'. The main part of the ship's bow looks somewhat like a runway.

The turrets are divided across the ships hull and have a full 360 degrees of motion, and the arrangement allows every angle to be covered by at least one turret at all times. The plasma cannon turrets are situated on the top of the hull around the base of the neck and the laser turrets are mounted on the underbelly of the hull. There is approximately 300 live personnel on board the ship and 200 more robots to run the Pyreness.

The size of this fully functional model toy is one foot long and half a foot wide weighing about 14 lbs. Buy yours today for only $339.99 plus processing and handling. Just go to <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="https://www.galaxyguardians.com/Pyreness">https://www.galaxyguardians.com/Pyreness</a><!-- m --> to place your order today!

I don't own Gotcha Force, but the model of the Sirius character is the best representation I have of what the ESS Pyreness is supposed to look like. Hope it's alright.

SpoilerShow

Clarification: It's a small, toy ship, and the crew are the acting crew for the show. Just to be clear.

Pick Yer Poison-

SpoilerShow

Name: Dole Flejer
Gender: Male
Race: Magical Human
Colour: Whatever #003fff is
Biography: That which does not kill us makes us stronger.

Magic is like a science. It requires thought, skill, and extensive research to do correctly. The consequences are dire, but the results can be extraordinary.
Dole Flejer was simply a young assistant to a modern practitioner of magic, he got herbs, he cleaned up after messes, and on some unfortunate days, he tested out spells.
On one such unfortunate day, the practitioner was, as always, fully engrossed in his work, the only difference this time was that he had been for the last week. Dole was worried, but paid it no mind, as practitioners of such things had their own rules to abide by and they certainly wouldn't fall to a few days without food or water. Sweeping the floors outside his study, cleaning the shelves, and occasionally bringing a potion or two, Dole thought his boss would emerge normally in a day or two, possibly angry at a failure, or happy at a success, but overall the same.
So when he was called in an uncharacteristically sullen voice, his worry grew.

"Y-yes sir?"
"Ah, you have come. Good, sit down Dole."
"Uhm, sir if you could please explain why you called me? Is something wrong?"
"Hmmm... I am afraid something is." He slowly grabs a rainbow steaming vial and holds it in front of him. "This... is my magical energy. All of my magical power is held within this tiny bottle."
"Wha.. what? Can we put it back? Wh-Why is it out?" Dole's wariness was now plainly visible on his face, he was shaking and stuttering. His eyes were wide open, staring at the vial of magical energy.
"No. It would only be wasted. I need you to take it. To take my magical energy, and call it your own."
"Why? Why me?"
"Because I trust you." He thrust the vial in his assistants hand and then laid back. "Drink it."

After some hesitation, Dole drank up. At first he felt the same, then a bit glowy, then his mind and body felt like they got hit by a truck as each of his senses became shocked at all of the new feelings in the world. Dole momentarily glowed and floated in the air, and then he immediately threw up. Taking some deep breaths, Dole was barely standing. The world was fuzzy and he certainly didn't comprehend anything about what was going on when his boss shot lighting at him.

As the rightfully confused Dole took a load of electricity to the chest, he once more felt that odd glow, luckily without the floating and barfing. When the pain from the lightning had passed, Dole felt rightfully energized. He stared at his employer in anger and immediately yelled "What did you do to me?" As his arms waved in anger, lighting shot out of his own hands, to his surprise and to his bossâ??s glee.

As it turned out, the rainbow potion was a special concoction meant to give the drinker the ability to temporarily absorb and control magic that was used on them. There could be a few flaws here and there but as Dole had handily proven it worked. Unfortunately, before he could hear the full story on what exactly the potion did and get any sort of explanation from his employer, Dole Flejer was taken away, possibly to never be seen again.


Description: Dole Flejer is a young somewhat flustered man wearing a striped shirt and khaki pants, with his brown hair kept clean. From a glance he is exceptionally normal, which is part of what makes him such a great assistant for magical matters. Other factors include being hardworking and very straightforward. He is not very inquisitive or prying and he just sort of does what is expected of him or what he thinks is expected of him. Occasionally, he wishes for a more exciting life, but all in all he is content with what he has.
Items/Abilities: The potion that was fed to Dole gives him a very powerful magical ability. Firstly, the potion granted him some magical endurance, meaning he could be attacked by a large number of things without serious injury to himself. Secondly, the potion gives him the ability to channel and reuse what attacked him in some way. If he is stabbed, he can grow a knife, if he's hit by a fireball, he can use a fireball. Due to the flaws in the potion, the exact output and input ratio is different and does not seem to have a true pattern, but as long as Dole feels some pain, he can dish it out. Beyond the potion's effect, Dole has some small knowledge of magic, just recognizing it, not casting.

Cyber95-

SpoilerShow

Name: February Allen (Often shortened to Febs)

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Colour: #4040FF

Biography:

Febs trudged down a set of particularly precipitous stairs in a dingy Los Angeles borough, her cumbersome rucksack chafing at her shoulders as it bounced merrily along in stark contrast to her current mood.

I get hit by lightning three days ago and I still have to go back to school, and now thereâ??s roadwork in the way so I have to take a detour down this alley to get home after practice? Next thing you know Iâ??m going to be fal-

Febs slipped off a puddle composed of substances that didnâ??t bear thinking about and shot forward, almost catching her balance before the weight of the books in her backpack gave her the bare minimum momentum to send her tumbling headfirst down the rest of the staircase.

CRACK

Her fall was arrested quite abruptly, Februaryâ??s knee having slammed into the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Her bag slipped off her back (having been knocked loose by the fall), only to unceremoniously deposit the majority of her expensive texts into a storm drain. And Christ did her knee hurt. Febs drew in a seemingly calm, collected breathâ?¦ and screamed.

KRAKOOM

Febs looked up to see heavy storm clouds had smothered and done away with the dayâ??s previously clear and sunny sky, and as her mood rapidly shifted from all-consuming anger to stark fear (she had, after all, been struck by lightning only a few days ago and had no desire to repeat the experience) they roiled, shifting further before sending down what looked like-

What?

Snowflakes fell indolently onto the ground, disdaining the fact that it was midsummer in LA, and one of the hottest on record. Febs did love winter weather, but her sense of muted fear turned wonder quickly fled as she realized summer running clothes werenâ??t very appropriate for enjoying such unseasonal precipitation, even with her sweatpants on. Gathering up her soaked textbooks she jogged out of the alleyway, so distracted by the climate that she ran straight into the path of an oncoming automobile.

The driver later swore that he had seen a ghost when questioned as to why he had swerved clear off the road and into the front of a dry cleaning shop, though the court didnâ??t find that plausible enough to refrain from awarding the shop an exorbitant amount of damages. No-one thought to connect the case and the mysterious disappearance of February Allen.

Weapons/Abillities:

February Lillian Allen is, in most respects, a biologically run-of-the-mill 17-year-old human girl. While she isnâ??t the fastest runner on her cross-country team, sheâ??s still relatively fit and does some martial arts on the side. Not nearly enough to serve her well in a fight to the death, but possibly enough to (barely) keep her alive.

Far more interesting are the strange climate-based phenomena that began to surround her when she was struck by lightning three days prior to her transportation to the Grand Switch. Localized weather anomalies follow her wherever she goes, growing in intensity when she becomes particularly emotional â?? no-one is certain why exactly this is or what it means but in essence Februaryâ??s moods determine nearby weather â?? the greater the intensity of her emotions the greater the radius and the strength of the weather. Anger generally results in thunderstorms, fear in blizzards, anguish and sorrow in pouring rain. Happiness does not result in baking heat waves, however, but in a cool spring breeze and bright sunlight. These phenomena take place even where such weather is nominally impossible â?? sunlight in the middle of the night, rain inside the school gym. The only areas where they might be inactive are in a vacuum such as outer space or similar locations, where there is no climate whatsoever.

Feel free to expand on this ability beyond the original description with regards to emotions and the weather linking them.

Description:

February is a gangly 17-year-old Caucasian American human girl. She is quite fit due to her membership of the cross-country team, and can generally be found wearing some sort of t-shirt and jeans ensemble unless she is returning from a practice, in which case running clothes and sweatpants are more the order of the afternoon (as it was when she was SNATCHED for the battle). She has slightly longer than shoulder-length dark brown hair, and remarkably green eyes. Guys at her school think sheâ??s reasonably hot, but are put off by her personality.

Thing is, Febs is interminably stubborn. This doesnâ??t mean that she wonâ??t accept contrasting viewpoints at all, since she will listen and consider most any opinion â?? but once she has her mind set on a goal she will tolerate nothing and no-one getting in her way. This overbearing attitude has led to her getting what she wanted for most of her life, first from her wonderfully kind but desperately spineless parents and later by her school colleagues. She was arguably a bit of a bully in when she was younger, not because she took pleasure in the deed but more because she simply didnâ??t realize that making sure everyone did what she wanted was wrong in the first place. Age has tempered this streak somewhat but February still only barely made it onto varsity XC because the only girl who might have beaten her to it mysteriously dropped out of the team for unspecified reasons. Their coach let it slide both because to confront February about it would have been fruitless and unproductive and because her stubborn streak did wonders for team morale in the long slog of a distance run.

February herself tries to live up to her parentsâ?? laudable moral standards, but does fall short from time to time since she simply canâ??t help lying about this or that if it helps her achieve something she wants â?? still, sheâ??s proud to say that sheâ??s never done anything illegal â?? well, thatâ??s if you donâ??t count the drinking (but who does, jeez). And the time she stole her parentsâ?? car to go see a concert her (comparatively totalitarian) uncle refused to drive her to. And the bracelet shoplifted because she didnâ??t have the money with her. And- okay so sheâ??s done some things that might not be considered quite legal. Who hasnâ??t? At least she hasnâ??t misused her martial arts training to kick some jerkâ??s- wait no done that too. He certainly deserved it though.

If you asked her relatives or teachers theyâ??d likely tell you that February is a good kid and has her heart in the right place, but often doesnâ??t quite know where to find it â?? while sheâ??s been in detention rather frequently for a string of minor offenses it was mostly for scuffles in defense of her friends or occasionally for refusing to obey a teacherâ??s instructions. She'll fight for what she thinks is right, and while that may occasionally be something rather frivolous or not particularly worth fighting for, more often than not it's still debatably the right thing to do.

Woodlandbeef-

SpoilerShow

Name: Todd Sherman

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Colour: Giving this one a shot. Feel free to change it if needed.

Weapons/Abillities: Todd has one weapon. Under normal circumstances, it just looks like a simple wooden club. However, if Todd kills an animal with this club, he can make it change its form to the animal he killed. So, for instance, he could wield a live lion or a giant squid as a weapon.

There is one limitation to this transformation, though: Todd has to keep holding onto the animal. If he lets go, it turns back into a club. Also, his club will only gain a new transformational ability if it's in the form of a club when he kills something.

The club itself is nearly indestructible, and will feel very heavy if anyone other than Todd tries to lift it. To him, though, it feels very light, no matter what form it is. This might change if Todd were to be killed.

Aside from this, Todd has a general knowledge of hunting, and a rather extensive knowledge of what most of the animals he's killed are capable of. He's also reasonably strong on his own.

Description: Todd is a large, well-built man. He dresses like a lumberjack. He's got black hair and some facial stubble.

Todd loves hunting. He's always eager to kill new species with his club when given the chance. He will cheerfully explain this to any human he meets, which tends to mean he doesn't make a lot of friends. It's just as well, as he prefers to be out in nature, killing things.

Biography: Todd Sherman was once an ordinary lumberjack. One day, he was out cutting wood and he found a weird-looking tree. He tried to chop it down, but it proved too hard for his axe.

Then he tried knocking on it with his bare knuckles, and it fell over. Curious, he grabbed a club-shaped branch from the tree; it snapped right off, and seemed very light. But his axe couldn't break it.

On the way home, he was ambushed by a cougar, and dropped his axe and branch in surprise. He fought it off, and when he almost had it down, he desperately grabbed for his axe to finish it off.

He grabbed the branch instead, and clubbed it to death. He was very surprised when the cougar vanished... even more so when he thought about the cougar and then found himself holding it by the tail.

In shock, he let go, only to find the branch had turned back into a club. He picked it up, amazed.

He then quit his job and traveled the world, killing exotic animals with his new club.

And then, he was summoned for the Grand Switch.

Agent-

SpoilerShow

Name: Cassiopeiea
Gender: Female
Race: Star
Colour: Gold

Biography: For a long time Cassie floated in space, her consciousness so slow and ponderous to be almost imperceptible to the rest of the universe. But one day a trio of witches used a terrible black magic to knock her out of the sky.

The heart of a star is a very valuable and powerful item and they sought to capture her, claim her heart for their own and use it for some kind of nefarious purpose. They managed to capture her without much incident as she had very little in the way of combat skills, and they brought her back to their den.

As they prepared for the extraction Cassie felt as though the room was getting hotter with each passing moment. Sweat dripped from her every pore and she felt like she was going to pass out. She felt an energy building in her chest, and though she tried to contain it eventually she could not. Suddenly the entire witchâ??s hovel was filled with blisteringly bright light. When it cleared the shack had been vaporized, along with everything in it and the witches themselves, only Cassie was left. Moments later she was taken into a grand battle.

Weapons/Abillities: Pretty much defenceless apart from the fact that she slowly builds up energy and then vents it all at once. This process completely obliterates everything that is around her at the time.

Description: Cassie has long blonde hair, shining golden eyes and slightly gold tinted skin. She is very conventionally attractive.

In terms of personality she is pretty flustered and confused about this whole thing. She wants to be back with her friends (who are also stars) and off of this planet and out of this human form.

Mirdini-

SpoilerShow

Name: Corthi Karomanski (official designation Ck3141[r¦e])

Gender: Male

Race: Cybernetic Human

Colour:#FF0000

Weapons/Abillities: Corthiâ??s main advantage is his tactical software and hardware, built directly into his body. However, it doesnâ??t give him tactical information, or improve his strength, or increase his reflexes. Because Corthi was built not to be a man controlling a machine, but a machine controlling a man. The cybernetic components built into him effectively operate independently of Corthiâ??s conscious mind, programmed to automatically eliminate any perceived threat (i.e. anyone who looks funny) in the most efficient way possible. This is done through the use of his Bigswordâ?¢, a sword that for its size moves like a deadly silver fish. Corthiâ??s swordsmanship stems not from robotic strength but rather agility and deftness of the arm. With his cybernetic components Corthi also has practically unlimited endurance, capable of slogging on for a long long time if not destroyed. He draws his power from nitrogen in the air, forcing it into picofusion reactors dispersed throughout his body. No, he canâ??t draw energy from them and explode or use a hyper beam or a superlaser as a last resort (come on, itâ??s bloody nitrogen), but what he can do is power them up temporarily and electrify his sword and body, shocking anyone who comes in contact with either one. His arm is missing, leaving a set of exposed wires and ports which could, conceivably, interface with a computer system - but no oneâ??s tried, and Corthi doesnâ??t particularly want to.

Description: Corthi is a large cyborg at about six feet five inches tall. His hair is metallic white, and one of his eyes is green. The other eye is also green, but also happens to be a combination camera and retina-HUD screen. About a third of his face on the left side is cybernetic machinery, seamless with the skin. Corthiâ??s left arm is missing, leaving behind a slightly messy stump ending at the shoulder from which short wires and ports stick out. He carries a Bigswordâ?¢, which is so wonderfully generic as to have its own brand name of bigswordiness. His clothing is strong cloth in two shades of grey, except on the drastically shortened and burned left leg of his heavy cloth pants, where it is black. Where his leg is uncovered, dull metal and cybernetic surface-circuitry can be seen encasing the flesh, and where flesh can be seen it seems pale and unhealthy.

Often no emotion can be seen on Corthiâ??s face, not even in the center of a bloodbath. However, this is not always the case. Corthiâ??s biological components were supposed to provide a neural framework on which to run the system software and human-creative decision making for moral quandaries â?? however during his biogeneration a critical software failure caused his conscious mind to decouple from the operating system. As a direct result Corthiâ??s conscious mind is conscious and observing 100% of the time, but is only in control when the computer deems it necessary: when human reasoning and input is needed, for instance, or a moral conflict comes into play. Corthi likes being in control. It means the blood stops, if only for a little while. It means the killing stops. It means REACTIVATING COMPUTER CONTROL SLASH ARGH SNICK

Corthi refers to himself in the third person, has the broken mind of someone forced to witness pain and horror and death from day one, and wants to die.

Biography: Corthi stood glowering at the dead bodies piled in the room. Rather, the computer did the glowering, calculating it as the most effective and cost-efficient manner of intimidation towards those feigning death in the corpses. Corthi simply stared, through eyes that could only, on the basest level, be considered his.

Then, he felt it. The computer needed him again. One of the targetâ??s known associates was lying in the bodies, alive with only minor injuries. The woman struggled to pull herself free as the cyborg approached, then screamed with pain as Corthiâ??s approaching weight crushed some part of her lower body stuck under the heaped corpses. The contract had clearly stated to eliminate the target and to neutralize any resistance. That had been done. The contract did not state to eliminate associates â?? precisely. For that reason, the computer needed Corthi to make an allowable decision.

He knew sparing her was not one of those.

â??I know you. Youâ??re that mercenary â?? the one that Sten said theyâ??d send. I-I donâ??t know anything about Stanâ??s work, heâ??s â?? he kept it all classified, Iâ??m â?? I was â?? only his secretary, I-I-â?

The woman was crying now, but any compassion Corthi should have had was felt dimly and faintly from lack of use. He tried to evaluate the situation, knowing that if he dallied too long the computer would select an outcome for him, usually the bloodiest-

â??Listen.â? She looked up, surprised at hearing the cyborg speak with such human cadence. â??Run.â? Corthi lifted his foot and she flopped out of the mound of bodies, hitting the ground crawling. â??Run and hide. Somewhere where I wonâ??t find you, find a heater, or a boiler room â?? just go!â?

As she pulled herself around a corner, Corthi felt the computer retake control, marking that an inadmissible decision â??

And then the cyborg disappeared.

<!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="https://dl.dropbox.com/u/1551024/Corthi_char%20color.png">https://dl.dropbox.com/u/1551024/Corthi_char%20color.png</a><!-- m -->

EVERYONE GET READY FOR THE G-G-G-GRANDSWITCH!

Suddenly, the contestants found themselves in a particularly stylish living room, immobile, sitting in a circle of wooden chairs, while five dapper-looking fellows lounged about in a couple of sofas in the center. One of them looked towards the shortest of them, who was quite nervous looking, and spoke.

“Reginald, why don’t you introduce your new contestants?”

Reginald jumped up sharply out of his seat at the voice and looked at the speaker with distain before finally focusing back on the circle surrounding him.

“Well, um. This here is Dylan Houle,” he said, pointing to a particularly muscular man. He’s a professional wrestler. He has wrestling-based powers and is probably insane. And stuff.”

Continuing, he pointed to a rather large reptile in the room. A very large chair had been found for the dragon, even if the did look quite uncomfortable.

“This is Grizzald. He’s a dragon, and he has to guard a treasure thing, too. So yeah. Those are my contestants. Now, um. Someone else introduce the other people.”

As Reginald sat back down, another stood up, continuing the introductions.

“Hello,” he said with a big smile. “My name Alexander. I’m the one who came up with the idea to do this! Anyway.”

He pointed towards a small toy ship as he spoke, saying, “This is ESS Pyreness and her crew. Well, actually, the Pyreness isn’t a ship, and it doesn’t have a crew. The whole thing is a TV show, so I stole a fully working model, along with their voiceacting crew! Isn’t that great?

“My other contestant-” he pointed towards a rather normal looking guy, as far as the contestants so far went. “Is Dole Flejer. He used to work as a magicians assistant, and he has a magical power that lets him throw back any attack directed towards him. It’s pretty cool.”

He gave the group another big smile before pointing to another one of The Literary Group, and saying, “Your turn, Leon.”

“Ugh,” Leon said, standing up. He was probably the least fashionable of the five, looking like he threw several mismatched classy outfits together. He walked up to a young, teenage girl and apathetically used his arms to point in her general direction.

“This is February Allen. She’s an average teenage girl, except she can change the weather with her emotions. How drab.”

Leon stumbled over to the other contestant. This time he didn’t even bother to point at him, he just kind of stood there, kind of looking at the contestant as he spoke.

“This is Todd Sherman. He has a club that can turn into wild animals. So he wields animals as weapons. A little more interesting than Mrs.-Month-for-a-name. Just barely.”

He started walking back to his seat. “Pauline, it’s your turn.”

Suddenly, Pauline jumped out of her seat excited, smiling at Leon, saying, “Ok!”

Half-walking, half-dancing over to one of the contestants, she happily pointed towards a glowing girl.

“This is Cassiopeiea! I just had to have her. She’s a star-turned human. She’s not great at fighting, but she can shoot energy out of her! Isn’t she precious?”

She walked over to another contestant and continued.

“And this is Corthi Karomanski! Isn’t Corthi just an adorable name!? Either way, he can’t control his body because its robotic! It makes him kill people. Every once in a while though, it gives him control! I think he wants to die. It’s soooo cuuute!”

Pauline sat back down, and then another stood up. He held a glass of wine, and was probably the classiest person in the room. After a short pause, he began to speak.

“Hello!” He said. “My name is Pierre, and I bet you’re wonder what that was all about.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, walking slowly with the circle, looking at each contestant directly.

Finally, he continued.

“Well, I regret to inform you, that you’ve been entered into a battle to the death. All of you will die, but one. I hope you were listening to those introductions.”

Pierre paused for effect.

“Anyway, there’s really only one item on the list: Where you will be fighting. Each time one or two of you die, we’ll be going to a new locale, so don’t worry if you don’t like where you are at first; if you can survive, you’ll go somewhere else. Anyway.”

He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, the arrangement of furniture was floating above the air, over two massive towers stretching several miles into the sky.

“Welcome to iGhetto. The most advanced lower-class residential containment zone in the world. Built by the fantastic Apple Corporation in conjunction with the World Council, if you live in a first-world country and you’re in the bottom 10% of earned income, you probably live here. Rife with gangs, drugs, and futuristic apple products, this place will certainly make for an… interesting round.”

Pierre snapped his fingers again. The contestants were scattered throughout the ghetto, and The Grand Switch had begun.

Grizzald found himself in a narrow alley. It was a tight fit; he slowly made his way forward into the street so he could get a better look at his surroundings.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "All those years in the tower must have finally gotten to me. I'm so desperate to get out that I'm imagining things now."

He turned himself around and looked back at the alleyway. The treasure was lying in it. He sighed, and started squeezing himself back into the alley to retrieve it.

"But apparently I'm not imaginative enough to forget this thing. And of course it would have to be behind me."

And then, just as he was about to reach it, several hooded humans ran into the alley, grabbed the trophy, and fled.

"Come back here!" he shouted, firing a blast of toxins in their direction. But it was too late; they were faster than him while he was stuck in this narrow space. He sighed, and resigned himself once more to gradually pushing his way forward.

When THE DRIVE was dropped off in some random alley, he was sweating bullets. The entire time he had been confined to his seat, he had been attempting to channel his WARRIOR STRENGTH and break out of the magical binds of the sissies who thought they could keep him trapped.

They were right.
But that didn't let THE DRIVE down.

After shaking the sweat off, THE DRIVE took a closer look at his surroundings. Then, he heard it. The ring. A bell had rung and someone, somewhere, was about to get a face full of THE DRIVE.

However, as it turned out, the bell was not one for school, but for lunch. Or at least what passed for lunch in this hell hole of a school. So, when s large man broke through the wall and immediately flipped a table, the children were not that angry that they didn't have to eat that day. The robot custodians in charge of making sure that their wards received their daily source of nutrition however, were not.

THE DRIVE scowled at the machinations.
"MEN OF METAL? YOUR COATING IS NO MATCH FOR MY WARRIOR STRENGTH. YOUR DAYS OF OPPRESSING THESE CHILDREN WITH THESE ODD FOOD SOURCES ARE OVER! BUT FIRST..."
THE DRIVE jumped around the lunch area and meticulously placed tables in a perfect cube as the robots gave their pre-recorded warning for him to cease immediately.
Suffice to say, THE DRIVE did not.

'Hmmm....battle to the death? With a dragon?' Todd rubbed his chin in thought, rapping his club against the pavement. The lumberjack-turned-hunter grinned and started down the dirty sidewalk. The fact he was just about to kill a Komodo Dragon before being spirited away was moot in the news of a dragon ripe for the slaying.

Wait...where was he again?

Todd took the moment to survey his surroundings. iGhetto was it? The description on the brochure didn't do it much justice. Buildings looked like they were stacked upon each other like a bunch of Legos. It was like an urban jungle...a perfect scene for a hunt! A horn sounded suprising Todd and he whipped around with his club, walloping some poor sod and sending him flying into the wall. His funky looking scooter thing, labled iPed, buzzed to a halt and keeled over beside Todd.

"Hey...uh...buddy? You alright?” Todd’s response was a semi-conscious groan. The lumberjack frowned and looked around to find nobody seeming to take notice. iPods and iPhones and unfamiliar i-technology had the locals lost in their own little world paying no heed to the poor sap who just got clobbered.

Todd looked over at the iPed and rubbed his stubbly chin again. He figured the owner wouldn’t miss it to much while he was sleeping. Grinning, Todd mounted up and zoomed off down the street hoping to find some trail to pick up in tracking the dragon. Or maybe he’d come across one of the other rather normal looking people in this contest and they could figure out just what was really going on.

“Hello, thank you for holding. This is iGhetto technical support, my name is Ted. How can I help you today?”
“It’s snowing.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Yeah. The weather report said that it would be overcast today. Also it’s summer. I don’t think it should be snowing.”
“Um, yeah. You’re right. It shouldn’t be. Where are you right now?”
“Outside of a coffee shop. I think I’m near Camera #26?”
“Hold on, I’ll have somebody take a look at that.”
Ted put the caller on hold. There really shouldn’t be snow. It shouldn’t even be possible for there to be snow, in fact. During the summer months they don’t even put the artificial snow mix in the weather generators. There’s no point to it. So either that guy has some other problem, or somebody screwed up. He arrived at one of the monitoring stations. There was a note on the desk.
‘Out to lunch.’ Of course. Never mind that everybody else had lunch an hour ago. Oh well. He knew how to use the security devices well enough. Well enough to find the camera he needed anyways. Zero-Two-Six. The scene appeared in front of him. Visible was the man on his cell phone, who apparently noticed the green light turn on, and waved towards the camera. The monitoring lights were set to turn on by default, but could easily be set to stay off for secret monitoring. In this case, getting the attention of the man helped him confirm that it was the right camera. Also visible was the support issue. It was, in fact snowing. Flipping through a few random cameras, he noticed the snowing was localized around the area. Cameras 25 to 31 were all caught in the snow as well. That would be Weather Biome 3. Always had troubles with that one, but not usually ‘snow-in-summer’ troubles. He picked up the nearby phone and called one of their technicians.
“This is Dale. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Dale. This is Ted from Tech Support. Weather Biome 3 is on the fritz.”
“Again? I just fixed it yesterday!”
“Shit, I hope we don’t need to get it replaced. Big expensive equipment replacements mean pay cuts. Anyways, it’s snowing. I don’t think that’s right.”
“...You’re kidding, right?”
“I didn’t think it was likely at first, but I checked the cameras. Snow. Can you just take a look at the systems and give me an ETA on repair for my caller?”
“Alright, I’ll take a look.”
There was a moment of silence on the phone while Dale presumably was looking at the system info.
“Uh, the biome is fine.”
“Sorry?”
“There’s no artificial snow in the system, and it doesn’t have any output right now. It’s not even generating a light breeze. It’s just pulling a normal overcast. Your problem is not with the biome. I’ll have my boys look at what else could be causing the issue. I’ll call you up if I figure it out.”
“Yeah. Sure. Talk to you later.”
Ted set down the phone. Something was seriously fucked up. Snow doesn’t just form itself. Well, not in the iGhetto. And especially not during summer. Oh right, he still had his customer on the line! Rushing back to his cubicle, he picked up his phone and hit the Hold button again. The customer was still on the line.
“Hi there. Sorry about the wait. Anyways, we’re still working on diagnosing the problem, but thank you for bringing it to our attention. Would you like to leave a return number for us to call you back when the situation is resolved?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m sure I’ll figure out if you’ve fixed it when it stops snowing.”
“Okay then. Is there anything else you need help with today?”
“Well I was having a bit of trouble with my toilet...”

----------

The snow fell gently upon February as she huddled in an alleyway, cowering. The snow was only getting stronger the longer she sat there and contemplated this situation. Her life has been nothing but a string of improbably bad luck over the past few days. First she was struck by lightning, then accosted by freak weather systems, and now a battle to the death with a bunch of people from other universes. The last bit wasn’t just improbable, it should have been impossible! Hopefully, nobody would find her here. She wouldn’t have a chance against any of the others.
...but then why was she chosen to be in this fight in the first place? She admittedly hadn’t heard too much of what they were saying about the contestants, she was too focused on being scared out of her mind. Maybe the others weren’t as strong as they looked? She could barely remember what they looked like, really. She remembered that one was a dragon or something, which was kind of worrying, and there were, like, cyborgs and stuff too.
She sighed an stood up. The snow started calming down a little, but it wasn’t going away completely. Februrary was certainly scared, but the least she could do was try to handle it rationally. Sitting around in a corner surely wouldn’t get her out of this kerfuffle. First, she could probably try to remember who the fellow ‘contestants’ were.
There was that tiny spaceship. Filled with... actors? That didn’t make much sense to her, so she simply figured she was misremembering.
Then the dragon. The dragon. The goddamn dragon. How is there a dragon!? The snow picked up a bit but calmed down again. ‘Calm down, Febs,’ she whispered to herself. The dragon had to guard a treasure, so with any luck, it wouldn’t be hostile unless she tried going after that. Hopefully.
There was a professional wrestler. Likely to be strong, and, well, it’s a pro wrestler. How likely would it be for him to take a competition seriously? Maybe he could help protect her.
Then, um.... a magician? Febs couldn’t quite remember anything about him.
One guy had a big club. And animals? Maybe he trained animals? Should she have to be worried that he could make the pigeons attack her?
Cassiopeia was the one name she could actually remember, because of the star. February wondered if there was any significance to that.
And the cyborg. Which apparently kills people. Yeah okay that one was kind of concerning. After considering the dragon, though, she had kind of gotten over the idea of deadly impossible things. Well, not so much over it as much as she was aware that no one thing was less likely to kill her than another.
There was also the matter of herself. They had said something about her. Something about her emotions. Well of course she was going to get somewhat emotional, it’s a battle to the death! Ugh, perhaps everything would be clearer later.
At least she had mildly identified all the threats. Or at least, she had thought so, but she turned around onto to be face to face with a man in a mask wielding a knife threateningly.
“Gimme all you got!”
The snow picked up considerably and instantly turned into a small blizzard. A mugger!? Here!? He wasn’t even one of the contestants told to fight her!
“I-I-I don’t have much! I have five dollars! Oh! Y-you can have my iPhone!”
“What the hell would I want with a fucking iPhone?”
“Uh, s-sorry?”
“Yeah, then I would have TWO iPhones in the iGhetto. Jeez, it’s not even worth it to mug an idiot. You didn’t see me.”
The snow slowed down considerably as the mugger walked away. The wind did start to pick up quite a bit, though. February was confused. Her iPhone was worth, like, 200 bucks. Why would he deny it so quickly?

...wait what the hell was an iGhetto?

SpoilerShow

Confusion just causes wind. You can mildly perplex Febs for a light breeze, or baffle the shit out of her for gale force.

Life could be hard in the iGhetto. Many of its residents reguarly opted to forego it entirely; "come on down to the Apple iCade!" the adverts said, "plug yourself into one of our state of the art isolation pods and experience the wonder of the all new iReality!". If you'd spent any time hanging outside one of those iCades a) you'd notice that people seldom come out of there and b) you'd probably be shot under suspicion of being a Microsoft Spy.

Alexander King did not have a hard time living in the iGhetto. The only thing he worried about was Apple Trademark Enforcers and he kept an iRifle handy to deal with those scumbags. He was also in the business of offering escapism to the poor downtrodden folk of the iGhetto, though his was less permanent... at least for most. Just off Genius street down an unnamed alleyway you'd find a dingy little shopfront lit up with flickering blue neon. Inside you'd find a man in an old fashioned suit and tie, the like of which is seldom seen nowadays. The outfit is a little battered and stained but classy nonetheless. He has short slicked back hair and a little goatee beard. This is Alex King, he would greet you warmly, enquire whether you were one of those Apple Trademark Enforcers as his security guards discreetly prepared to blast you into bloody chunks if you gave the wrong answer. Then he'd ask you what kind of girl you'd like, after a little negotiation you'd find yourself in a dingy little bedroom with one of his famous iWhores and you'd do what you came there to do.

Alex had his feet up on his desk and leant back in his chair. Business was brisk. Nowadays he was less concerned that the Apple Trademark Enforcers would want to shut him down than he was that they'd want to buy a controlling stake in his business and the intelluctual property rights on the iWhores. He tucked into a tasteless salad while reading the latest news off his iTop; some kind of freak weather incident a couple of blocks from here. Alex liked to think of himself as smarter than most; not eating unhealthily, drinking or smoking. He would not allow himself to be cut down in the prime of his life by those iPoisons. He also liked to think that he would never dismiss something out of hand for the mere fact that it was unlikely, he'd seen too many iFilms where nobody believed the heroes until it was too late. Even so he wasn't about to believe that there was a dragon loose in the iGhetto. It was more likely some kind of hobbyist geneticist's experiment gone horribly wrong.

There was a scream from one of the rooms down the hall. He glanced towards the source of the noise, but did nothing. Screams weren't all that uncommon what with all the perverts he got in here. It was only when the door slammed open and the client stumbled backwards into the corridor, nude and terrified that he grabbed his iRifle and ran down the corridor. Pushing past the petrified and indecent client he stood at the door of the bedroom, where inside a mostly white toy spaceship expelled real flames and flew drunkenly around the room. He looked at it for a moment and then slammed the door shut. It was not that he doubted the evidence of his own eyes or anything silly like that. Alex was perfectly certain that there was a toy spaceship flying around room 7. It was just that he was already certain there was some way he could spin this thing to make himself some cash and he didn't want the thing getting out.

?!

Cassiopeiea stumbled forwards awkwardly on new and unfamiliar legs, the body she wore not three hours old, and brought a steadying, pale hand to rest on a filthy alleyway wall. Sensations were everywhere, like a flurry of asteroidal debris peppering her mind.

Everything…was…so…fast! And so slow at the same time! When she had turned her gaze to the blue planet, all she had seen was a blur of microorganisms evolving with blinding speed as her ridiculously slow lifespan raced through it all. Now she was on /their/ scale, on /their/ timespeed! So many colors! So many blurs!

She brought her hand away from the wall, and stared at the smeared dirt in interest. An observer looking on the scene would find the sight of a stunning blonde girl ankle-deep in snow gazing befuddled at her palm unfortunately not odd at all. Except, perhaps, for the snow.

Snow! Ice and snow!

Cassie remembered snow. There had been a short time when the blue planet had been her favorite spot to look on in the cosmos, a crystalline white with stripes of blue. It had gone away and come back, gone away and come back, never for long. But here it was! Snow! Like a child, she moved out of the alleyway in search for fresher, purer, and most importantly more snow and found herself in a small square, cobblestones hidden under the snowfall. As she waded through it, she failed to notice its chill – and only partially because she knew no concept of cold beyond that of bitter space. Where the snowflakes touched her golden-tinged skin, they simply...melted away, like dissolving candyfloss on the tongue of an excited child. Behind her a shallow, slowly refilling trench of meltwater marked her path as she made her way towards the deeper snow, eager for more novelty, eager to cavort and discover the hidden treasures of snow.

The wind was picking up a little, however. Cassie stopped in front of a closed grocery store to shelter herself from the stinging feeling it gave her. As she stood there, she thought she heard someone crying on the wind.

SpoilerShow

Color tags: #CDAD00, #EEC900, #FFD700
As Cassie gains power, her font color should follow suit. ^__^

"What is it?"
"I have no idea..."

The two students of the iGhetto's only high-school of any quality observed the odd metal box that had appeared in their classroom with wonder.

"It doesn't have any touch screens or nothin, just this... thing there... with numbers." One of the two said as he inched closer.
"Man, I don't know if we should be touching it..."

The first of the two ignored his friends advice, not ceasing his movement and slowly pressing the button marked "Play." The sound that emitted from the boombox scared the two children. They ran back as soon as the machine began to play, obviously in fear that something without the Apple Logo could play music.

However... as it continued, they began to feel the song. They felt... pumped. It wasn't like the music that they got on their iProducts. It was cool.

The two children looked at each other knowingly. They had to share this with the rest of the class, they wanted to jam and if they had to slam they would do that too.

And they'd get their chance.

When the duo reached the cafeteria, where most of the other students were, the song had changed just as they slammed open the double open doors. Taking the advice of the song, they fiddled with the boombox until the volume raised higher.

This was just the boost that THE DRIVE needed. He lifted his hands in the air and proceeded to do a WARRIOR CRY, which combined with the song allowed him to finish off another of the security robots. And with his success, along with the odd inspiration from the non-apple music making device turned the odd man's singular plight against a security drone into a full out rebellion against the school system.

While THE DRIVE was pleased with his work, far away, looking through the eyes of the security, one man certainly was not.