Episode 1 - Screams of the Dead

[Renan]

Any child growing up in Brazil is familiar with the creatures that haunt the night. The Cuca, who terrorizes the young as they sleep. The Exu, a demonic trickster who's mischievousness is wildly known. The Saci Pierré, who is known as the bane of farm life. But these are all tales. Everyone knows their stories, but they know they're nothing to be afraid of. They aren't real, just stories, stories that keep getting passed down from generation to generation. But there are some stories that aren’t that old.

Recently, in Rio de Janeiro, a new legend has sprung; One of a black ball and the rising of the dead. The elderly shun it, stating it is in poor taste and disgusting compared to the stories they grew up with. But the youth love this tale. They talk about their so called experiences with death and the black ball. Nobody really believes them, after all, they’re just stories.

In Rio de Janeiro, in the depths of an abandoned building, there lies a dark black ball. Nobody knows where it came from and nobody knows what purpose it serves. Many have come and gone and served the black ball, but as of right now the ball lies alone. A long time has passed since it last had visitors, but today that changes. A tri-colored beam shot out of the ball’s core and began materializing a thing…no, a person.

The person was a big man. He seemed confused. The moment he arrived he fell down on his knees and gum fell out of his mouth.

The ball wasn’t done yet though. The beam shot out once again and this time a young man appeared with bullet holes in his clothing.

The ball continued. The next beam showed a middle aged man with cuts in his shirt.

The ball wasn’t done yet. The next three beams brought forth a man covered in weapons, a plain looking business woman, and a strangely dressed man covered in carnival attire.

The last two beams shot out a man with a thirst for blood and another who had just finished tasting his own blood.

Brock Waller. Breno Augusto. Uzias Moreira. James Lassiter. Sandra Rocha. Mike Quinn. Heine Dietrech. Brett Harving.

A moment ago their lives were ending, but now, they’re just beginning.

[Haloninjaman808]

This was not your typical welcome to a new country. Blacking out from suffocation and waking up in a small room. Fearful that someone wanted one of his organs, Brock Waller got up. Of all things that he might have died of, it had to be gum.

But was he really dead?

The apartment was well lit, and in the room were 8 others. Something fishy was going on, and Brock didn't have the urge to speak. His Portuguese was still a tad bit rusty.

[Gemini]

James closed his eyes as he finally started to give up. Right before his world faded to black though, he renewed his conviction to live, forcing himself to believe... no to know, he was not going to let it end here. The stakes through his body were coated in a red liquid before he felt cold.

The next thing he knew, he was alive again and standing in a room. He wobbled a bit and fell to the side as he looked around and saw other people. Some had evidence of wounds, such as gunshots in their clothes, like he had holes in his as well. As he fell out of the way, he saw another person being "created" from the technicolor beam. It was an interesting sight to watch a man be created from thin air. James quickly slid his Close quarters combat knife into his sleeve where it couldn't be seen. If this was heaven, hell, or limbo, at least they let him keep the cold steel that he was so used to.

"James Lassiter, 3rd Squadron, Vexing Mercenaries." He spoke in an american accent and language, not sure of where he was. Most of the mercenaries at his camp knew who he was, even if they spoke multiple languages.

[Tame]

A young man stood tall, a grim look on his face, in front of a black truck. Leaning against the bonnet of the truck was another young man and a third stood off to one side. They all looked enough like each other that it was easy to tell they were brothers. They were waiting in a dusty, abandoned lot some way out of town. The only light came from the dim shine of their truck's headlights.

'Wish these fucks would hurry up,' said the man on the bonnet, the youngest-looking of them.

The one standing a little way off glanced at him and the two exchanged a meaningful look.

'They'll be here,' said the one up ahead, not turning round.


Presently another truck came into view, winding slowly through the dirt track that led to them. In a few minutes, it had pulled up opposite them, and three men had got out. Two held back, staying by the truck, whilst the third stepped forward. He rubbed a hand across his shaved head before he spoke.

'Got our package?' he asked, business-like. The grim-looking man, the eldest of the three brothers, nodded. Behind him, the brother on the bonnet held up a fat, brown paper bag. The shaved-headed man nodded in satisfaction. 'And a sample?'

The eldest brother, whose name was Breno, or Buscapé to his friends, took a small, clear plastic bag from his pocket and held it out. In it were white crystals. One of the other man's cronies stepped forward and took it from him. 'Dose it,' ordered the boss. His boy took it over to the bonnet of their car, laid it down flat, and took out a pistol. With the butt of it, he crushed the contents of the bag. Then, opening it, he caught up a quantity of it onto his finger and in one quick snort, honked it up into his nose.

After some grunting, dancing about and face-twitching, the man calmed himself somewhat. 'Shit is good,' he said appreciatively.

'No doubt,' agreed Buscapé. He knew his product was the best on the market right now. The snorter handed the sample back to him, and he pocketed it. The other crony produced a paper bag of his own. He and Renato, the brother ont he bonnet, walked forward and exchanged packages. Each checked the contents of their new bag and nodded to their respective boss.

'Pleasure doing business,' the shaved man said to Buscapé. 'Same time next week.'

'Sure as sh - '

A loud gunshot going off cut Buscapé's reply. The man in front of him fell dead. The dude with the bag was stunned for long enough for Renato to pull out his gun and shoot him through the face. Finally another bullet hit the tweaking crony, and a second finished him other.

Buscapé swung round to stare at his brothers - Leandro and Renato were both holding pieces whose barrels smoked.

'What the fuck?!'

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Three shots hit him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet.

'Sorry, bro,' said Leandro, walking over to his older brother, gun pointed at him, to where he lay choking and writhing. He pulled Buscapé's gun out from the front of his pants and fired it twice into the air. They had to make it look like there had been a struggle. Then Renato came over, placed his gun against his poor brother's forehead... and pulled the trigger.


Everything went dark for Buscapé. Then a moment later, light blinded him. His body was moving as he wanted it to again, and he sat sharply up, looking wildly around. He was in a weird room filled with people that looked as confused as him. He scramled to his feet, not knowing what the fuck was going. Pulling out his flick knife, he held it by his side, ready to strike anyone that came at him, and looked around warily at the other occupants.

'What the fuck is this?' he asked quietly of them in Portuguese.

[βeηrγ]

"Everybody on the fucking ground!" Goddamit. Could this day go any worse? After having a stressful day at work, which was finally over, Brett had found himself in the bank trying to collect some money. He needed a loan for his new room expansion. Ha had planned to make a gym at home, he hated the people at they gym. Well it was mostly that he got bored with them. After talking to them for more than 2 months he had already learned everything they knew about building muscle, having a correct form while doing exercises and which exercise was for what muscle. He had also learned a lot from their own personal experience. However, after this, he had found them boring, not much challenging in any other subject. Not to mention they were all sweaty bests.

But everything was going bad today. Now two armed bandits, one with a shotgun and the other with a gun entered the bank. Brett immediately fell on the ground like everybody else. Fucking trash... He thought ti himself. This was what New York City had turned into. The place of dreams and innovation, all gone to shit from people like those two with the guns right there. But Brett had no doubt that even the people on the ground where just like those two, only that they were too scared to rob a bank. Everyone wants to gain money easy and without risks but usually the two words don't go well together. What really pissed him off was the fact that he was better than those two lowlifes there, yet he had to bow down to them cause they had the guns. Nothing he could do about it and this was the thing that made his brain boil.

The two robbers threatened the bank manager, just like always and after some punches the manager took one of them to the vault. The guy with the shotgun stayed there looking at them. The fucking piece of trash was whistling a happy tune, moving around the room. The piece of shit, how dare he think so highly of himself. He probably liked the idea that he was in control right now the son of a bitch. "What the fuck are you looking at?" Shit, Brett had been so immersed in his thoughts that he had been looking the robber with an expression of rage all this time. "You, get up." The robber said pointing with the shotgun at Brett.

Brett slowly got up, being careful not to make any sudden moves. He was starting to sweat but he still kept his cool. His face unmoving, not showing any emotion. "You asshole I saw you looking at me really furious." The robber leaned his face close to that of Brett, intentionally mocking him. He was so close that Brett could smell the whiskey protruding form his mouth, but he still did not move an inch. "You're scared aren't ya? You're scared shitless." The robber said. "Where the fuck did all that rage of before go, huh? Answer me you no homo." Brett did not move and after waiting some seconds he said "Listen, I'm-"

"Shut the fuck up!" The robber said suddenly hitting him in the face with a punch. Brett fell down, his face hurting like hell. He had never been beaten like this. This... this scum dared to hit him. No! He could not accept it! It didn't matter if he had the gun, he could do it. As Brett was rubbing his face, the robber turned his back and started laughing. It was now or never. Brett's legs exploded with intense power and he immediately lifted himself up and jumped at the robber. They bot fell down on the ground, Brett on top of the robber which had turned to face him. The shotgun now was out of his reach, the others could join and help him. But Brett looked around, no one was moving, even though the shotgun was like two feet away from the robber. No one wanted to risk their lifes. Scum... Brett though. All scum. But a knuckle interrupted his thoughts. The robber hit him and broke his nose but Brett did not surrender. He began hitting the robber which was still underneath him. He would just beat him himself since the others had no gut.

It was then that he felt a sharp pain through his back as screams erupted at the bank. All his strenght was immediately drained from him as the robber who was underneath him pushed him aside. Brett fell on the ground, bleeding a lot from his back as his body contorted around, trying to gasp for air, for energy, for life. He could hear the screams around and the bandits shouting but he could not make out what they were saying. Then he began feeling cold. No... I... I can't go out like this. I have so much to do still... No one will remember me... I can't die! I don't wanna die![/b] He screamed inside his head with desperation. He was not scared, he knew that the dying wasn't the bad part. You would just cease to exist and that was it. But it were those seconds until his death that were the most terrifying. That sense of pity he had for himself, dying that way. That feeling he could not tolerate, and that would be the feeling he went out with.

Brett woke up in a strange apartment. He had died. He was sure about that. An instant ago he was in a bank and he got shot. Brett remembered the sensation he had felt when the bullet had pierced his body. He shivered for a moment, feeling really angry he had lost his cool like that. He had always thought that he was going to keep his cool no matter what, even in a deathly situation but the way he had reacted was just like he would expect the people he called 'trash' to react. He promised to himself that from now on he would always be cool and accept the situation, whatever it may be.

Which brought him to the question: Where the hell was he? Why was he there? He could not find any explanation as to why he was in a room full with people, with a black ball in the middle. He wanted to talk, ask what was happening but he could see from the faces the people there that they probably had no idea either. For a moment his thoughts were interrupted. A laser shot out of the black ball and a man, from the looks of it, was being formed. Brett's eyes opened wide. He had never seen such technology. The man did not move until the moment the transfer was over. Was this the same way he had been brought here, along with all these people? His theory would hold but there had to be a constant, one that each of them had, that tied them together. Then it hit him, and he needed to prove it if he wanted his theory to be correct. He rose and spoke with a clear voice so everyone could hear.

"Hello, I know you may find this question strange but, did all of you just die and found yourself here, or maybe were involved in a deadly situation?" He was sure the thing which connected them all together, that constant he was looking for, was undoubtedly death.

He talked in English, still unaware that he was in South America, Brazil.

[ashleysherrinjones]

They say life flashes before your eyes before you die, thinking of all the things that you've done, those things you wished you would of done differently and sometimes the things that you ultimately regret.

Mike was no exception, as he fell over the railing he thought about how much fun his life had been, how people always laughed when he was around. How people called him "Queeny" because he was in touch with his feminine side. How people would always ask him to do things and laugh with him when he was doing them, how they would literally come up to him and laugh in his face. Then a thought came to him Were they all laughing 'AT' me?

Before he had his answer Mike hit the floor and broke his neck and died.

Mike opened his eyes and he was in a room with loads of people to talking in different languages. He towered over everyone thinking they were just tiny people, until he looked down and he was still wearing the 6" heels, which meant he was still wearing...."Oh God!" If he wasn't still wearing the heavy make-up everyone would of seen how red he went.

Some dude spoke in a funny language and then spoke in English that he thought they were all dead or just died.

Mike walked over to the black ball in the centre of the room to check his reflection. He laughed in a warm kind manner "Hahahaha, so this is heaven, and I look FABULOUS!" Turned and grinned in a way people would think was sexy, if it weren't for his make-up or attire.

[Amphyess]

Heine was relaxing in his villa, after enjoying a good time at a vampire only night club. He grabbed a wine bottle filled with the blood of some teenage runaway he found. Heine chugged the whole bottle in one go the landed on his dolphin leather couch grabbed his bald eagle feather pillow and went to sleep.

He awoke to gunshots and screaming. Someone was killing his body guards. He got up from his couch absorbed two guns and grabbed two more and waited for his killers to arrive. Two vampires in all red suits; one missing an arm with the number three tattooed on his forehead holding a desert eagle. The other perfectly unharmed holding a circular blade with a number one on his forehead."So Mr. Dietrich you sure have a good choice in body guard." said One in a very monotone voice. "Yeah I mean fucking mercenaries, vampires hell you even got some fucking aliens too. Had you do that." said Three in a high pitched voice. ” Well as you see some dip shits are always trying to kill me so I give those aliens what they want. but I never thought my own kind would try to kill me. So who asked crimson six-well now crimson two to kill me.". One spoke again in his monotone voice, "Well you seem to piss off a really powerful alien so we vampires had no choice but to kill you otherwise our shaky alliance would crumble also it crimson four now.". Two vampires (one with a two tattoo the other a four tattoo both extremely injured) grabbed Heine’s arms; then One threw his weapon at hen’s head decapitating him instantly the only thought Heine had was damm.

All of a sudden Heine saw bright colors then an apartment room he checked his neck then saw Gantz and fear gripped him. Shit shit the fucking hunters out of the pan and into the fire is so fucking true right now. Then he saw the look of confusion on the supposed "hunters".An idea then formed in Heine's head; so Gantz takes people who died and makes them hunter which means it wants me to fight aliens; fuck that but I will kill these Brazilian vampires and this supposed alien I pissed off. Heine went up to Gantz jumped on top of it and sat down on it he then spoke German directly at Gantz ignoring the others in the room. "I wont kill aliens unless I have to but as for vampires give me the tools and I will do it." Heine looked at the humans in the room and spoke in Portuguese, "So if you humans have any questions I will answer them, but it will cost you a little blood." Heine then reveled his fangs. This might be fun thought Heine might being the key word.

[Renan]

No...This can't be it...
Another knife went flying at him.
God...why is this happening....
The barrage still wasn't over. Yet another knife came at him.
Ma...
Before he could finish his last thought his life slipped away from him...
ribell...
Only to come back immediately.

Dazed and confused Uzias did not know how to react. One second ago he was being stabbed to death and now he found himself in a room full of strangers. The window outside clearly showed that he was in Rio, but why would he be here? It didn't make sense to him. His head was pounding and his body was sweating.
Wh-where am I... he tried to say, but no words would come out. His heart was pounding and he was breathing heavier than he ever had before. The air was heavy and uncomfortable.

Forcing himself to stand Uzias looked over at a confused man who was very clearly a tourist.


"Wh-where is this? Where am I?" he asked the big foreign man.

[Haloninjaman808]

Confusion filled the room as people all got up and began to get their bearings. Brock stood back and began to sweat as he heard the fragments of English and Portuguese dialogue flooding the room. No one else knew what was going on, thus they were all on the same field of knowledge.

Then suddenly, a man stood up and began to try to converse with him.

"Uhhhhh" Brock began in English. He caught himself before trying to say something. He fell back on his so-so Portuguese.

"...I....think we are all......dead? I choked on an object while coming here.......I don't know what was happening." Not practicing Portuguese had really kicked his ass, and it was time to shake off the cobwebs. He began to continue, but was suddenly interrupted...

And then a motherfucking vampire began to talk and shit got really weird at the moment. Brock seriously didn't get the whole thing about aliens, and vampires and whatnot, and this made it hard for him to believe. Seriously, why would we need to kill aliens, and aren't vampires just myths, or pale guys that hang out at Hot Topic?

[Renan]

Sandra

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
What did I even do...
Sandra laid there as her boyfriend's hands wrapped around her neck. She could the heat of her tears on her face.
She couldn't remember why her boyfriend would hurt her, but she must have done something.
He always has his reasons...
She wondered why she stayed with him and as if he read her mind his grip tightened. She was afraid. Breathing was getting harder for Sandra. The pain was getting too much. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The last thing she saw was his face, his angry angry face.

And then her eyes opened. She had no idea where she was. She was being strangled just a moment ago, but now she was in a strange apartment with several strange men.
Was everything that happened just a dream?
Maybe this is a dream...
She scoped the room and noticed several strange people, all men. There were several foreigners and a man sitting on a black ball in the middle of the room.

Just where in the world am I?

Uzias

For a foreigner his English isn't too bad...but he must be confused...I can't be dead...can I?
Uzais thought it over. Before he came to this room he was being stabbed. This theory did make sense after all. Before he could give it more thought though a woman materialized and almost immediately after a strange man sitting on top of the black ball began to speak.

"Us humans? A little blood? Just what exactly is going on!?"

Gantz Update

Heine sat on the ball trying to get the attention of the people in the room. Mike was standing in front of the ball looking at his reflection and making a joke about how fabulous he was. Brock and Uzias shared small conversation. Sandra was confused and refused to speak. James and Brett stood out of place like sore thumbs due to their lack of proper Portuguese and Breno wondered where the fuck he was.

The shared confusion and hysteria was quickly dispelled once the ball suddenly opened up. Heine was violently thrown off the ball and Mike was knocked back due to the sudden movement. As the ball opened up a jingle played. It was the main tune to Programa do Jo, a popular Brazilian late night talk show.

With the ball fully opened it was clear what was inside. There were racks of weapons and suitcases on the new found left and the right wings of the ball and inside was a tan man with a breathalyzer covering his face.

UR LIV3Z R OHVUR N BELONG 2 ME NAO
WUT U DO IF FOR ME 2 DECIDE FRUM NAO ON.

It was a cryptic message that appeared on the front of the ball, almost an omen of things to come, but the ball wasn't done yet.

An image appeared on the screen.

THIS IZ UR TARGIT

SPOILER: Click to show

Mula sem cabeça

Likes: Sex
Dislikes: God, Priests, Religion
Quote: “GYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

[Tame]

Several people had started talking, including one who claimed he could answer their questions "for a little blood", whatever the fuck that meant. Breno, or Buscapé as almost everyone knew him, wanted to kill the fucker right then and there. He was so angry and cofnused at his brothers' betrayal that he wanted to fucking pop a bullet in any motherfucker that even remotely pissed him off right then. But shit, he didn't have his gun on him. He slipped one hand into his pocket and began to finger the flick knife he kept there, glancing round at the people in the room. A couple stuck out like sore thumbs due to their lack of Portuguese (fucking foreigners), one guy looked like a fucking queer in his gay-as-shit costume, some bitch, the dick who'd sat on the black ball (whatever that was) and two other guyds who'd started talking.

Then the ball opened, making Buscapé jump a little and some bull-shit message about how they were all dead appeared on the front. 'Target?' Bescapé thought as he read the message about some kind of headless-horse thing. He was too pissed off to deal with this shit, so instead he strode over to the ball and began examining its contents. Some suitcases and some weird-ass toy weapons were in its racks.

With a snort of contempt, Buscapé took his hand from his pocket and took out one of the smaller guns, whose body was kinda round and turned it over in his hands. That was when he spotted the man inside the ball.

'Fuck is that?' he wondered out loud, peering down at the man.

Inventory: flick knife, X-gun

[Amphyess]

Heine had almost fallen but was able to catch himself before and what he saw almost made him laugh he had seen these aliens from a distant before and thought they weren't that scary he kinda found them cute. Heine drooped one of his guns and let it swing on its chain and grabbed an x gun then stood in the middle of the room and spoke in English. "so if you're wondering this is no joke you all have died and will have to hunt these alien. there are suits that will give you strength and protection. I also expect since I have given you this info you will give me a little blood when i get injured so I can regenerate OK.". Heine then just stood there waiting to see what would these humans do.

Inventory: x-gun, Mauser C96X2, Luger P08X2

[ashleysherrinjones]

Mike in all his glory put his hand up in the air clearly confused by what was going on around him and all the foreign speak that was going on around him "Ummmm I have no clue what anyone is saying or what is going on! If anyone here speaks normal talk (English) and not funny talk let me know please. Thanks."

Mike then just kind of hovered in the middle of the floor "OH MY GOD!" he kinda shouted out probably drawing everyone's attention "These boots are killing me, how do trannies do it? Seriously I think I've nearly broke my ankle twice, they must be like runway models or summut".

Rather ungracefully Mike fell on to his bum and started taking off his boots and then his headrests/wig "Now I feel better. Ummmmm so who are you guys and what's going on with the picture of the flaming my little pony?"

Inventory - N/A

[Haloninjaman808]

Aliens. Death. Skintight suits. Brock had no idea what was going on. Commotion was filling the room as the ball shot open and displayed a flickering LCD image of some kind of headless horse. Things around here were getting stranger by the second, and this was nothing compared to a high he would get when he was a teen.

The 30-year-old walked over to the ball as people made remarks about the cases with nicknames. And there it was. The case said "Brick". Someone called him that when he used to get into fights, because he was built like a brickwall, and would hurt like one too.

Brock was tired of all the talking. Everything was chaotic, and that vampire mo-fo was saying shit that seemed too stupid to be true. Either way, he had nothing better to do than play along. With the suit, he grabbed one of the rifles, and a 3-pronged gun. Even if he wasn't fully invested in this, he might as well be prepared.

He found a bathroom to the side of the commotion, and went inside. He tried to put things on, the upper body piece, the lower body piece, but it was all too tight. Before making sure no one would enter the bathroom, he began to hesitantly strip, before putting the suit on. Even after he had it fully snapped together, it was still a bit tight.

He put on his normal clothing, and gripped each weapon in a hand before stepping out of the bathroom.

Brock: Suit, Y-Gun, X-Rifle, Clothes.

[Renan]

Uzias

So much was going on. Once again the strange man was offering information for blood. Oddly enough, he was giving the information first and then making a request.

No way in hell I'm giving him my blood...whatever that means.

The ball showed an image of a horse with no head, it looked familiar to Uzias. He moved over to the ball and passed by the strangely dressed man on the floor. Uzias tried not to look at him, but he couldn't help but glance. He only meant to look for a second, but before he knew it he was checking the man out all over. Once he realized how much time he was taking looking at him he quickly diverted his eyes.

Oh shit! I hope he didn't notice...

This time Uzias directed his eyes where they should have gone to the first place. That mysterious image on that mysterious ball.

This...!

It was a mula sem cabeça. It clearly said the name on the ball, but Uzias knew that without even reading it. His mother would tell him the story of the mula sem cabeça when he was younger. It would always confuse him.

Never taking his eyes away from the Uzias began to speak

"This is a mula sem cabeça. It used to be a woman, but you see, she had sex with a priest and God punished her for her sins. He removed her head and turned her into a disgusting mule who spits out fire. Of course, she didn't always have to have sex with a priest to be condemned to such a fate. Infanticide, necrophilia, blasphemy; any of these could turn a poor woman into such a hideous creature..."

Uzias realized he was rambling and turned around to see if anybody was actually paying attention to anything he said.

Sandra

As the people in the room began to move around and examine their surroundings Sandra found herself staring at the oddly dressed man sitting in front of the ball. She was making her way over to him until a middle aged man began to move in front of the ball. He started talking about an old fairy tale.

What a weirdo. Talking about children's stories at a time like this?

Sandra paid no mind to what the man was saying. Instead she sat herself down to the oddly dressed man.

"You're not from here, are you?" she asked in English.

Uzias Inventory: n/a
Sandra Inventory: n/a