[The person you came to the Grid to find is nowhere in sight, but certainly the screaming thousands in the stands seem grateful for your presence. Maybe you were caught on the streets without a disk. Maybe you were found somewhere more sensitive, or placed your trust in the wrong friends. Whatever your crime, the Grid only has two sentences—and is it really a surprise two programs as small and weak as yourselves were passed over for repurposing?
Asriel and Frisk have been separated from the others for a while. They've been processed through the Armory, equipped with disks and the basic conscript suit. They've stayed their turn in the cells. And now, their locked compartments hover upward through the air over the stadium, two cells out of sixteen that shift and hover as the anticipation swells. A gold-lit ship is docked above, but certainly the crowded stands are far too packed for any number of watchers to be spotted. Interfering, on the other hand, will prove difficult. Especially in time.]
All combatants prepare for Disk Wars.
[A cool, calm voice announces from above as the cells line up, releasing their passengers at either end of a set of long, translucent cages. Programs step forward, eying their opponents warily as they reach behind. The disks that come forward hum with ready, eager light, and if Asriel's and Frisk's appearances might gather some strange looks, it's nothing that will hold their fellow captives back. Not now.
Final Bossfight and Escape: closed to Frisk, Asriel, and Tron to start; OTA later
Disk Wars!
[The person you came to the Grid to find is nowhere in sight, but certainly the screaming thousands in the stands seem grateful for your presence. Maybe you were caught on the streets without a disk. Maybe you were found somewhere more sensitive, or placed your trust in the wrong friends. Whatever your crime, the Grid only has two sentences—and is it really a surprise two programs as small and weak as yourselves were passed over for repurposing?
Asriel and Frisk have been separated from the others for a while. They've been processed through the Armory, equipped with disks and the basic conscript suit. They've stayed their turn in the cells. And now, their locked compartments hover upward through the air over the stadium, two cells out of sixteen that shift and hover as the anticipation swells. A gold-lit ship is docked above, but certainly the crowded stands are far too packed for any number of watchers to be spotted. Interfering, on the other hand, will prove difficult. Especially in time.]
All combatants prepare for Disk Wars.
[A cool, calm voice announces from above as the cells line up, releasing their passengers at either end of a set of long, translucent cages. Programs step forward, eying their opponents warily as they reach behind. The disks that come forward hum with ready, eager light, and if Asriel's and Frisk's appearances might gather some strange looks, it's nothing that will hold their fellow captives back. Not now.
Welcome to the Games, children.
It's kill or be killed.]
Initiate.