Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-28718853-20180511200704/@comment-30014014-20180530184311

Carlos. William. Francis. Danny.

The boy stood at the door of a house since long painted in white, his eyes hopeful toward the man who just picked his journal in exchange for a generous tip. Carlos liked that young man, often willing to spend his early morning dealing in small jobs where many would have happily slept through. More often than not, he'd welcome him in to discuss he and his teammates' prowess against others and the hard fought losses that they'd take, always at the hand of a similary coordinated team.

However, added with the impromptu news of a lilim stating an ultimatum, the paper and the boy seemed to be conveying but that upcoming tournament, one to decide the fate of the city. Carlos was all too aware of this.

"You are going, right?", asks the boy once more, his voice trembling with a bit of uncertainty, knowing his all-stars team had since long moved on "I'm sure you can take them on, all four of you!" He started filling Carlos's head with his group's past achievements, hoping to spark his flame once more.

Pointless.

Carlos wanders bak in the sanctuary of his home, at the boy's disarray "Mister! You're not going?!" Carlos walks to his kitchen, a bright white phone laying at the heart of the table. He picks it up, casting a number of dials, his marines irises reflecting the boy's growing excitement as his voice finally echoed back "William, you got five minutes?"

"Yes! Yes, it's happening!" screams the boy, erratic with jubilee, quick to forget he still has half the block to deliver. His feet rapidly rush in, listening to Carlos speak of what he saw to William, the latter having had Francis at the time, and the much latter one in a skype conversation with Danny.

Under the observation of the boy, Tommy, Carlos had the gang on skype as well, each having just watched the news.

"Never thought we'd be drafted back into this volley ball game", speak William "I thought we had definitively called quit".

"I know, friend. I mean, what fun would it have been to see the same team beat everyone else each year" shrugs Francis, turning to Carlos' cam "Then again, its just ludicrous enough to pull us back in, right boss?"

"That, it is, group. Which is why I ask for one more. Just. One. More". Carlos slumps slightly forward, reflecting on the time of their retirement. About the fourth victory they had attained in their upcoming twenties. Seeing the other teams work so hard for their placement, yet faltering at the sight of these four. A united decision it was to call quit, especially seeing as they had amassed a ridiculous amount of trophies. Duty was in their minds, seeing them enlist for a while, before using the experience to further their own goals.

Danny broke the silence, as all had reflected. Typical of their unity "One more? Why not? After all, this is...for the fate of this place. A bloodless conquest, sure. I'm in, boss!"

"So am I!" adds Francis.

"Aye!" nods William.

"So it's settled!" declares Carlos, taking a stand as the three others follow "Then we ride, one last time. Across the courtyard, we will reiterate the fear that once followed the last of us! With my lead!"

"My aggression!" Answer William, his laptop shut down...

"My equalizer!" speaks Francis, following the previous...

"And my end..." ends Danny, ending the communication between the four, as they assemble once more

The days come and go, scores of teams going against this challenger group. Four of them for an odd reason. Perhaps they thought they knew better than those who would seek to undo them. Their actions certainly seem to justify this willingful self-handicap as streaks of defeat come to those trying to conquer, all broadcasted across the channels. Day after day, did the people continue to have their hope smashed as the balloons smashed into faces.

"We are nearing the end of the fourth day and still, no team, be it regional or local has been able to successfully defeat the invading opponents. Be it the woman in blue pigment, to the feather-winged one dressed in the theme of war or the draconic lady to the quiet one hovering a few feet above ground with a large tome on her back, each seems to play according to their unit-cohesion. And so far, that has been but one of the factors that has devastated every team who had taken the mantle against them".

"Not to mention, Veronical, that they are all smokin' hot!" adds the second anchor, eyeing the replays feature each of them. The afformated Veronical gazes at Dominic with an unconvinced stare, to which he adds "That stare, right there, this is why you're still single..."

Sighing a bit at his remark, she resumes "Now, we have received information about another team seeking to enter this exhibition match, one boy coming up to sign up as the representative of those seeking in but...?"

"Yes, it would seem that the members are nowhere to be seen, which could either mean that this is supposedly a joke or..."

"Or?" asks the anchor Veronica, staring once again at Dominic. As to answer her question, a rattle of horse neigh echoes throughout the dimension and beyond to those listening. A horse comes seeping out of the gaping hole the local teams are to use to enter the stage. A horse, pure as snow, caryring a man in the same color. the cape he bears cyan in its inner wash. A gilded rifle is etched on his back, as well a pistol lovely posted on his hip. Armor in the gray pigment pretudes his body over a white uniform sporting a punctured badge on his shoulder. The man's face is completely shrouded in a helmet featuring blue eyeholes as visors and a pristine hat that a commander might be wearing.

"No..." utters the anchor Dominic, excitement growing on his face.

"No...? What is this?" asks the other anchor, only to be welcomed with another vision. This one, riding on top of another horse, red as the falling leaves of autumn, lacking a cape that his first compatriot bears on his back. Instead, a torn scarf is present around his armored neck, armor scouring his body in a worn-down looking set, though it was nothing of the sort. The carapace adorned on this man is jet black over a crimson garbed uniform. Unlike the first one, however, he was more armored, leaving less of said uniform to the outside view, as well as red glows emanating from within, indicating an advanced set, just like his companion.. His helmet feratures a grinning skull with a few protusions here and here, accompanied by a ominous set of gleaming red eyes. A large light machine gun is present on his back, lighted in colors of a prototype.

"No way, they are not...!"

"Not what? I have difficulty following you" asks the female anchor, again, interrupted by the upcoming of another horse, dark as the night. Much like the man it carries, its breath heftier than those that came before. Looking at the carried one, its no surprise. With armor covering almost every inch of his body, this one had more mass to him. Gleaming against the light of the dimension, it is rounded, as to deflect blows, darker than the abyss, and emanating with a purple light from underneath, twin to the barely visible uniform inside. A massive riot shield held on his left arm and a lever shotgun on the right, his orchid eyes gaze around the team as he proceeds to take poiunt before the first two.

"This is happening, folks! This really happening! They're really here!" shouts the anchor Dominic, under extreme jubilee, at the dismay of his fellow, who still lingers in the dark about the team. Mind her, this time, the last one didn't even bother letting her formulate a question before his arrival. A hray horse, pale as a dying light, carrying a man, this time, shrouded by a suit of camouflage. A ghillie suit, so to say, the leave brimming with energy as if they were connected to the man. To those able to see beyond the leaves, a green uniform was to be spotted, a light green, much like the leaves. A contrast to the brown bullet-proof he wears. An intimidating sniper, in his hands, pointed down. His gazd is straight at the team they face, three ghastly dots forming a triangle over his gasmask of a helmet.

"WHat is--is this an armed intervention?!" asks Veronica, a bit distressed by the unfolding even.

"Oh no...no, no, no" grins the other anchor, taking a stand "As a native to this city, I would like to proudly present to you..."

The four descent from their horses, the latter simply opting to go for the benches where their masters are to go in case of elimination. They walk in synchronization to the middle of their side of the stage, at the disbelief of thos who oppose them. The demon leader of in particular looked as if she was staring into a myth rather than men. Regaining her composure at her approaching companions, she speaks, a finger pointed at the white one "You! The white one! Are you..."

"You have broken the tranquillity of this city with threats of invasion..." speaks back Carlos, his voice altered by his helmet "The people have pleaded for salvation, and we are bringing it in the shape of ball-mageddon..." As he talks, he pulls out his scar rifle, only to toss it at the bench. His friends follow, sliding their weapons aside in the relative same space. Any arms they came is at the side, guarded by their horses.

Carlos points his white gray finger at the demon "Before we scourged our respective branches, before we rode atop the battlefields of the frontier, our battlefields were littered with the bodies of our blacked-out opponents, marked mercilessly with the surface of the balls you see before you. None could hope to safeguard themselves from the onslaught we carried across the playing field! Gaze in remorse, as you have broken the four seals of ball-mageddon! Your unprecented challenge has stirred us our of our sleep, undone in years! And now, you stand before the--

--four riders of the ballpocalyspe!" yells the anchor Dominic, as he take the shoulders of his fellow, shaking her like a maddened man "You get it now?! The four riders!"

"The four riders?" she daigns ask, almost afraid of the man.

"Yes! Uncontested champions of the dodgeball tournaments! They won 95% of all tournaments that have ever been organized across the world!"

"95 percent? Wait, those 95-percent individuals? The four masked?"

"Yes, those same men standing between salvation and a very, very sexy rule under the woman who spoke beforehand. Those men".

"B-but, anchor, we have reasons to think that they have disappeared years ago. What would they be doing here of all places?"

"No, not disappeared. They merely retreated. This is their homeland. The people from here know of them because we come across them daily. Surprisingly approchable fellows, I'm sure you'll see".

"Retreated? Why would--

--they retreat? Despit being young?" interrupts Dominic, speaking in a pattern depicting repetition of the question "Simple. They loved the sport and everything it did for them. Binding them as best friend. The icon from which them would live under. The way they act, speak or move. Uncontested champions. But that's exactly it. They knew nobody would be able to beat them soundly. They wanted others to taste the glory, to avoid hoarding all of the possible rewards it had to offer. Plus, they had...other things to attempt to".

"What things?" demands the anchor Veronica, hung to her fellow's lips, just as the foreign visitors are, only now aware of the epiphany that stands in the arena.

"Well, look at what they're wearing", returns Dom, his finger pointing at the four as Carlos is at the challengers. "War armor. Relics of their service in the Frontier, when it spilled out with the more hostile and monstrous-looking creatures compared to the seductive women looking to fill out city with love and desire". A snarky grin pretudes his face, quick to die out in front of the dagger stare of Veronica, who, never the less turns sight from him to look again at the four.

Her eyes are filled with awe and shock "That's...that's amazing...Ladies and gentlemen! We are standing at the precipice as two juggernauts of teams are about to face off! Let your sight gaze not fade away from the arena, for you may miss a glimmer of the legendary battle that is about to unfold before ourcountless eyes!"

Back to the opposing teams, the demon and her companions have just recovered from the revelation of the white one's identity. Her palm open to the four, she points at each.

"So...Conquest..." her palm stops upon Carlos for but a brief moment.

"...War..." it shifts to the crimson William, who's arms are crossed, intimidating.

"...Famine..." turned to Francis, taking the front of their team, his hands braced upon one another.

"...and death." finally directed at Danny, hidden and squatting, constantly turning sight between her, the reptilian mistress, the feather-winged maiden of war and the quiet undead. Her awe turns to anticipation "We heard so many things about the four of you. All of it, enticing us to take you right here and now. Such quality...but, that is for later. For now..."

She turns head at her companions, greeting each with a nod as they take position. Slowly, she turns back, to see the four riders stationned in response. With a sultry voice, she declares "...let us enjoy this date".

Those words fail to make the four falter, as they did so many before, seeding doubt and desire in their heads, where confidence and stoicism should have been. Silence wraps the stadium...

(To continue)