G O S S A M E R .
You've slipped through the ephemeral veil of gossamer that separates your own world from ours. It is a train which mysteriously brought you here. These trains also serve as our lifeblood by interconnecting our six dimensions.

Hialao is the nucleus, a modern, sunny and hospitable seaside realm; Wildewall is steeped in tradition, good for those with archaic roots and a taste for wilderness; Elestis is the fantasy land of ever-tumbling magic and whimsical imagination; Parse whirs like the massive digital machine that it is, advanced and technological.

Barrows is the breeding ground of chaos, with refrains of grunge and anachronistic crime; Tethya is the small but glorious underwater world reminiscent of Victorian times; and those who don't feel at home in any of these places, or simply like to wander, are known as Drifters.

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 All Hail Us, Satou/Open
hunter x hunter
gang member
shade (she/her)

The Barrows was going to be theirs. And after the Barrows, they could keep going. Squalo had directed them through picking off the smaller groups or herding them to their side. It had been tedious work, but Hisoka couldn't say that it hadn't been any fun. He had always adored raw violence.

Now, however, they were to take over larger and larger territories now. Gangs that actually had business challenging them were their next targets, and Hisoka couldn't clear them without help. That's why he had been sent along with this...old dude.

Now, Hisoka wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, but this guy was really good at the non-threatening look. Satou, he has been told to call him, looked every part the feeble elderly man. If it weren't for his intuition and probing Nen, he wouldn't have sensed something off about him. Not to mention, Squalo wouldn't have sent him if he weren't capable.

"I'm sure you already know most of this, but I'll go over it anyways. ♣" Hisoka spoke up. They were perched on the roof of the warehouse, getting ready to wreck havoc. "Send them a message that they are ours, or they die. Kill anyone who doesn't cooperate. Capture anyone who looks kind of important. Also, since we're near residential areas, the violence might attract vigilantes, so keep an eye out for them. ♠" Hopefully, if some of those so-called heroes appeared, they'd be able to take them out. They were honestly the most annoying pests to exist in the Barrows.

"We'll get backup maaaaybe. But we shouldn't count on it. ♠" With the crack of his knuckles, the clown stretched. He placed a hand on the ceiling, pulling back. The sheet of steel was peeled back effortlessly like a can lid, allowing a route of entry. "Okay, good luuuck, Mr. Satou. I'll see you on the other side! ♦"

With a salute, Hisoka dropped right into the ware house from the ceiling in a dive upside down. "Hello! ♦" he called, noting the shocked faces at seeing him. "I'm sure your boss got the letter from Squalo. We'd like to know your response? ♣"

Almost immediately, guns were suddenly whipped out, and Hisoka let out an unceremonious yelp. Dropping from his Nen attached to the ceiling, he took cover quickly, sighing. It looked like they hadn't taken that request for surrender well. Otherwise, he wouldn't be hiding from a spray of bullets at the moment.

@SAMUEL T. OWEN/OPEN to Sins/vigilantes!

Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck
Invader ZIM
BIOS Worker/Gang Member
starry (she/her or he/him)
The art of the compromise, Hold your nose and close your eyes.
Zim had never expected to call himself the calvary, but here he was, acting as the backup for Hisoka and this guy he'd brought with him - and when he heard a rather undignified yelp, he could assume that they weren't taking the request for polite surrender easily. Well. Alright. He was prepared for this. That was why he was the negotiation guy, after all.He knew the de facto rule, now that he'd matured just a bit: talk less, smile more. But that hardly applied when there was a storm of bullets hailing in.

So now was the time for words, as opposed to actions. The alien silently swooped past, landing in the warehouse, landing behind cover so that he wouldn't get hit immediately. His lip folded over in contemplation, up until one of them noticed his presence - and since he wasn't wearing his disguise (of course not, an alien was accepted without question into a gang), one of them was mildly unnerved and almost alerted the others to his presence.

That meant he had to die. The alien used his PAK legs to grapple onto the man, wrapping a metallic leg around his mouth to keep him from screaming, and eventually tightening the one around him so it broke a few bones, a sadistic grin on his face. But the sound of CRACK had been more than enough to alert people - though luckily, he'd prepared for that, too. Swallowing inwardsly, he dropped the corpse, tossing it at the other members, before swooping up and hanging onto the ceiling, a jet pack - spiderleg combo. Alright. He'd have to take this carefully.

So what were the rest of them all doing? He wasn't sure. But he was certainly doing something, hmph. He'd just have to avoid killing the ones that looked important - that had been something the boss had stressed without question. Though exactly what that meant was up to question - important in what way? How could you tell? They're all dressed like typical hyoomans, and it's annoying. So it was best supposing that he'd have to take a wild guess as to who was important, and who wasn't, and have to work with the rest of them on that idea.

AJIN: Demi-human
Carma (Da mom)
You fckin tagged Ardyn, not Satou, you colossal knob.
This was the boring part. It was the part of the game where your player character was running from Level 1 to Level 2, running along empty, open road. You were just watching the pixels go by, maybe admiring the detail here and there, but there was nothing. It was a transitionary phase. Game developers put those in to fill up space, and he understood why, but all the same, he considered them to be the most boring part. Even when they gave the occasional obstacle - where you had to jump from platform to platform, or avoid falling into endless pits of oblivion - you were still just building up to the next phase, the next wave of enemies. You ran through those parts quickly, anticipating the new enemies you’d have to face. And Satou...well, he wished that there was a “2x speed” button he could press somewhere. It was all building up so slowly.

He liked first-person shooter games, he wasn’t fond of world-builders or simulators. But it seemed like that was how this game worked. In order to have his war, he had to build the arena up. It wasn’t all bad, he didn’t mind training the troops and collecting munitions, and he also didn’t mind the small-scale battles. But they felt like teasers - the free version of the game that only had half of the content. He wanted the real deal, the real war. Not these little skirmishes. Patience was key, though. Maybe he was just antsy because he’d come so close to having his war, only for it to be ripped from him - or rather, him ripped away from it. Whatever gods had decided to move him to this world were kind of mean.

But, he could build his war back.

It had been interesting when Squalo-kun found him in the first place. His gang - his former gang - had been annexed in favour of this much larger, more organized one, so that their territory could expand. And Satou had….left something of an impression on their leader, it seemed. He was a high-level boss now, and that unlocked special skills and stats - he had others working under him, and training them gave him a better impression in the boss’s eye. His ultimate goal was perhaps to become the #2 man - not the boss, he wanted to be the little fairy character that gave suggestions to the player. If he could do that, he could write this war exactly how he wanted it.

Mmm, right now he was running one of those….mini-fight missions alongside fellow branch leader Hisoka-kun. Now here was an interesting looking fellow. Satou couldn’t tell much yet, but he seemed to be a little on the unhinged side. That was good. It was unhinged people that he needed the most. They were bloodier when they fought. They made things more fun, unpredictable. He needed unpredictable, he needed exciting. But all the same, when they met up, he was sure to give a polite tip of his cap and a crinkly, wrinkly smile.

He was still nice where it mattered. No need to be rude to his fellow players.

Satou gave a weary, thin, half-lidded smile as Hisoka-kun spoke up. Oh, so he was the pretentious sort, then. He didn’t believe that Satou had enough of a handle on the situation. Young people….ah, well. He scratched his ear, tilting his head and humming quietly as he listened. He was well aware of the situation, of course. Once he was through with his spiel, Satou chuckled and adjusted his cap. ”We’re kind of mean, aren’t we?” he breathed softly, thoughtfully. Of course, there was the tiniest of smirks upon his lips, and a light glean in his eyes. Satou...well, truth be told, he really did enjoy killing. And this would bring them closer in their war. They were attacking the enemy base...the mission was set, he just needed to press start. ”It’s no fun if we don’t have enemies to fight, though.”

He found heroes not to be annoying, but rather entertaining.

He was, he would admit, mildly intrigued by the way this gentleman’s abilities worked. Those were rather impressive powers. Quite useful. Satou himself stood, taking his cap and dusting it off before he settled it cleanly back on his head. His countenance had completely changed from earlier; no longer was he the calm old man, but rather a rigid soldier, head bowed, shoulders squared, ready to begin. Following the clown’s lead, Satou dove into the warehouse, rifle in hand, pointing it towards the nearest target. He already knew what their answer would be, but he was glad of it. As soon as the guns came out, Satou was moving, firing rounds at his enemies, uncaring as bullets came flying toward him. He was on life one, for now, but - ah, there it was. His body did a rather unsightly wiggle dance as he was filled with lead, body falling backward, a grin etched on his face. The guns stopped - but they were still looking for the other guy. One man moved forward, toeing Satou.

”This one’s just an old man. Think we killed him.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever. Get the other guy and we’ll dispose of the b-”


Satou sat up, pulling the trigger a second time as he smiled. ”It’s not very nice to kick the dead.”

Life #2. Game start.
♔ ree @ atf & shine
there you go, you are now offiiciially the liife of the party.
LITTLE ONE (he/she)
i am machine
i never sleep until i fix what's broken
Backup. Backup you could give. A front-lines player you were not, though you certainly had the natural firepower to be. You'd had to come to terms with what this organization was and what it stood for when you decided to use it for your own gain, and you couldn't be a god damned grub about it. You were a fucking Alternian. You could handle death. Even if you didn't like to kill, you were good at it by proxy.

But killing wasn't what you were here for. You had a communicator affixed to your horn, clipped to your ear so it was stationary, and you listened to the words of your superiors. You were many feet from the ground, a husktop balancing on one arm as you floated overhead the warehouse to keep an eye on it, the image on your screen showing many of the security cameras you'd hacked into to gain visual on the inside without personally causing commotion. From this, you got good visual of what your “partners” were capable of.

Didn't they know that hackers worked alone?

“Can you guyth hear me? I've got vithual. Roomth 4-A, 4-B, and 6-3 all theem two have individualth that matthch what we're looking for. I'd hurry if I were you, though, theemth that they've caught wind of the hubbabaloo you three are cauthing and are trying two ethcape with the ekthepthon of the one in room 6-3. He'th packing thomething big.”

one slap chap
One Punch Man
Hero | Odd-Jobber
Frankie (He/They)
im not bald i swear
he was bored, which really wasn't all that surprising. there wasn't anything to do. there really wasn't much to do before, but there kind of was? the hero association at least had monsters for him to fight. well, it wasn't that they provided the monster but the monsters did happen. okay, he was starting to confuse himself (which wasn't all that new). basically there were monsters back at home. big monsters that he could fight. did he take them down with a single punch? yes, but it was something.

so, barrows. barrows was supposed to be evil and shit, right? maybe there would be monsters here? or really, really strong humans? if there wasn't then he was going to punch a tree or something. well, maybe not. the world needed trees for air or something like that. okay, so no punching trees. punching people was okay, though. well, it was okay if they were bad people. then again, who was he to judge who was ban and who wasn't? technically saitama could be considered bad, but that just depended on who was asked.

saitama kicked a rock off of the top of the building he was walking on. it hit the sidewalk with a loud cracking noise. he shrugged and continued on. the cracking continued. what? he looked back to where the rock landed. nothing changed. what? more cracks, but they were really loud-- almost like gun shot-- the caped, bald man dropped through a hole in the roof and into the building he'd been walking on. it was a somewhat long fall and the floor cracked where he landed. saitama frowned down at where dust had covered his belt. a bullet flew past his ear and he glared at the person who shot it off. "one second i have to clean my belt off." wait someone just shot a gun. wait, the room was filled with people and guns. dead people, too. "oh."


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