FF Story

It was the first day of the Oasis games when the first precursors to trouble became obvious.

Whatever the case, three dozen athletes marched forward under the sweltering heat.

Of course, almost all of them were clones.

Trouble began when the bloodhound of the football team, the legendary footballer Midnight Blade smelt water in the air, sinking his teeth into a gymnast doing stretches on a mat next to him.

The gymnast then exploded, tagging the football player as six other clones lined up with batons, ribbons, and the occasional kunai.

Midnight was not fast enough to escape the wrath of the clones, one of whom was able to skewer him with a well aimed punch to the stomach, destroying his legendary root of warrior, and leaving him unprotected against the wave of whips.

Upon noticing their teammate (and creator), the lightning clones dashed into battle, kicking foot* upon the crowd of gymnasts, the barrage was overwhelming, for there were two lightning clones for every water clone.

It went well, right until a cheerful voice called across the din, casting a bright green light upon the exausted gymnasts, all of whom seemed to remember their routines.

With a cry of war, the lead gymnast hauled Midnight to his feet, forcing him to dance to their rhythm, each freshly revitalized clone vicious with her whip as the Midnight clones did their best to fire upon their foes. Sadly, Midnight lacked debuffs, as he was under chaos from the dozen or so critical hits he had suffered.

Upon his release minutes later, a bloody, battered Midnight rushed from the crowd with the speed of a man under chaos, slipping on the remains of a water clone as he drunkenly danced around his own confused clones as his target became openly clear.

He was charging at the goal-posts!

High above, the administrators watched in awe as he came home, firing a mighty shot that tore one of his clones in half.

As one, the crowd cheered.

Well, the laugh track cheered. But mainly because the shot had gone out, striking a man who looked far too much like a girl over the head.

Slumped onto his knees, Midnight tore his shirt away, causing gasps at his not-so ideal physique (being pale and skinny), then ended his turn.

Then the poison came along.

With a scream of agony, blood spurted out of Midnight’s mouth as he fell backwards, his clones shaking their heads in disbelief as they *ed out of existence.

“Remind me why we chose this location again?” One of the administrators asked a colleague, munching on a ice cream cone.

“Safer than the backup. And free healthcare.” Came the reply, behind yet another ice cream.

Down below, three Anbu grunts carried Midnight away, ready to ship him to the local hospital. Somehow, by the time they they had arrived, the football player had been dressed in the leotard of the clone he had eaten, much to the amu*t of the media outside.

“Biggest Scandal since Madara!” The Konoha Times declared the next day, proudly displaying the prone form of Midnight, forced into a outfit two sizes too small and foaming at the mouth.

...

Meanwhile, back with the pitcher hit by an errant football.

Scarlet Blaze was not amused when a spotted missile literally flew out of left field and struck him across the head.

Staggering to get off the ground, he found no less than six of his clones standing over with him, their faces plastered with confusion and amu*t.

Wait.

He made twelve clones! Where were the other six?

Staggering to his feet, he snarled as he turned about, his face scanning the field around him. To the left was the set of gymnasts doing the splits.

Boring. He thought to himself, growling at the titanic form of the man who stood before him, shooting hoops alone.

He found his gaze fixed upon the slender forms of a dozen girls to his right, his eyes unable to leave as one of the beautiful girls fired a rapid missile

Into the face of one of his missing clones.

“Oh. That’s where they went.” Scarlet said to himself as the clone assassinated via volleyball turned to dust.

With a shout, Scarlet marched forward, ready to give the girls a piece of his mind.

It was not a long walk. Barring the lag spike that froze him in place, forced to watch as another clone ate a missile of death in slow motion.

Thus, Scarlet stood with three of his clones along the hard court, in bitter contrast to the soft turf he had spent his career on.

He tapped one of the girls on the shoulder, which annoyed him, for he was pretty short.

Blankly, the girl looked back at him, high cheekbones and bright blue eyes and all.

“Oh, we were just coming to fetch the rest of you. Thank you for volunteering.”

Scarlet growled as he pointed a finger in the face of the confused girl.

“Get her!”

The air was silent for a moment, except for a distant basketball, a obscure laugh track, and the humming of the AC.

Scarlet glanced at the clone at his left, then at his right.

Both were mysteriously gone.

Scarlet glanced back at the baseball diamond, and found the blank stares of six clones, still gawking blindly at the beautiful form of the volleyball player.

And then his last clone fell, his head torn neatly off his orboro shoulders.

Scarlet glanced back at the girl, who now held him with an iron grip.

With a scream, Scarlet found himself forced to kneel where his clones once had, his eyes unblinking as a powerful serve flew at him.

It was really hard. Like clone killing hard.

“Huh,” he heard a voice say, amused. “Either I’m growing tired or this clone is tougher than the other ones.”

“Test it out.” The voice ordered as Scarlet heard the shifting of sand.

…

Breeze Dancer sighed as she took a sip of her water, fresh after perfecting her Rasengan serve.

It was a beautiful day, expect for some reason the clone had begun bleeding on the sand.

That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?

“Can we get a doctor here?” She called out over the humming air conditioning, meeting the stares of perhaps a dozen blank faces across the arena, some of which were her own shadow clones.

“I suppose not.” Breeze muttered as she tossed the volleyball in the air again, ready now to test her spike.

…

“Nobody likes Scarlet anyways.” Administrator One chuckled as a intern opened the door.

“You have no idea where I had to go to find instant ramen.”

“Tell us. We are at an interlude anyways.”

And thus Crimson played alone.

Fin.