Match 21318 Mark Watney vs. Dejah Thoris

[Mercenaryblade]

Mark Watney woke up drenched in sweat. The air inside the Hab was thin, recycled, and always carried that faint chemical bite. But tonight, tonight, it felt thick, hot, stifling.

He sat up, rubbing his face. The low hum of the life support system was steady, reassuring. Everything was fine. He was fine.

Then he saw her.

Dejah Thoris.

He recognized her instantly, and he hadn’t even read much of Edgar Rice Burroughs.

She was lounging on a makeshift seat across from him, legs crossed, her bronze skin glowing in the dim light of the Hab. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her deep, violet eyes watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. She wore little in the way of clothing, bits of brass barely covered her full breasts, and a thin wispy sarong covered her nether region. 

“You’re not real,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m losing it.”

“Am I?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk. “Or are you finally seeing the truth?”

He forced himself to take deep breaths. His oxygen levels were stable. CO₂ levels were fine. And yet, he could feel the heat radiating from her, from the room, as if Mars itself was breathing down his neck.

“You’re not here,” he said again, standing up, gripping the back of his chair until his knuckles went white. “You’re a goddamn hallucination. This is just stress. Isolation. I’m malnourished, probably something wrong with my brain chemistry.”

Dejah smiled, tilting her head. “Then why can you feel the heat of Barsoom? Why do you hear the wind outside, calling you?”

Watney clenched his jaw. He couldn’t hear any wind. Not really. Mars didn’t have wind like that. It had thin, whispering gusts, dust devils; but no howling voices, no distant sounds of an alien world waking up.

Except now he could hear something.

A deep, slow breath. Like the planet itself was inhaling.

He turned to the Hab’s window. Outside, the landscape shimmered in waves of heat. The cold, red sands he knew were gone, replaced by rolling dunes of ochre and gold. The sky, once a suffocating burnt-orange, was now vast and deep, a world alive in a way it had never been before.

He blinked. His mind was playing tricks on him.

“It’s a lie,” he whispered. “Mars is a dead planet.”

Dejah Thoris stood, gliding toward him, every movement deliberate, hypnotic. She reached for his hand, her fingers warm—too warm—against his. “Barsoom is waiting for you, Mark Watney.”

He snatched his hand away.

Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

The days blurred together. Or maybe they were nights. Time became slippery.

Dejah was always there.

Some nights, she sprawled across the Hab, draped in silks that couldn’t exist, speaking in a voice as smooth as wind through the dunes. Other times, she was outside, racing across the sand, barefoot and unburdened, laughing as the red dust swirled around her.

Other times she could be seen on the dunes of Mars practicing with an elegant sword.

Mark knew she wasn’t real. He knew.

And yet…

Yet, his suit felt heavier every time he put it on. The air inside the Hab felt denser, hotter.

Yet, when she ran outside, she never gasped, never faltered.

She beckoned him, night after night. “Take it off, Mark. Feel the air of Barsoom. It’s real. It’s warm. You don’t need that suit. You were never meant to be caged in that shell.”

His hands hovered over the seals of his helmet more times than he wanted to admit.

And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t losing his mind.

Maybe NASA had lied. Maybe his Mars, the one with dust storms and frozen wastelands, was the illusion.

Maybe if he let go just for a moment he’d breathe. He’d finally breathe.

He stood at the airlock now, staring at the button that would open the door.

Dejah Thoris waited outside, her dark hair blowing in a wind he still couldn’t hear. She stretched out a hand.

“Come home,” she whispered.

His gloved fingers hovered over the controls.

A single button press.

One choice.

His suit felt so damn heavy.
 

 

Vote Mark if he can resist.

Vote Dejah if he gives in to temptation 

[Callisto]

Learn More About
Mark Watney
Read more about Mark Watney at Wikipedia
Official Site: 20th Century Fox Links: Wikipedia

Dejah Thoris
Read more about Dejah Thoris at Wikipedia
Official Site: Public Domain Links: Wikipedia Marvel Wiki Barsoomians Comicvine Dejah Thoris

[Mercenaryblade]

God, where was this idea when I was participating in the tournament? 

[leroypowell3]

Give in Mark. Give in...

[Mercenaryblade]

27 minutes ago, leroypowell3 said:

Give in Mark. Give in...

Mark didn't count on this! 

[Pizza Guy]

Mark is a Sigma Chad, he tells that hoe to fuck off.

[JohnnyChany]

On 3/7/2025 at 10:30 PM, Mercenaryblade said:

God, where was this idea when I was participating in the tournament? 

The ideas don't always come to us when we want them to. This was really creative and good use for both characters, which is impressive given the kind of characters they are. Nicely done, sir.

[Mercenaryblade]

34 minutes ago, Pizza Guy said:

Mark is a Sigma Chad, he tells that hoe to fuck off.

Science before hoes

[Mercenaryblade]

21 minutes ago, JohnnyChany said:

The ideas don't always come to us when we want them to. This was really creative and good use for both characters, which is impressive given the kind of characters they are. Nicely done, sir.

Ain't that the truth though? Anyways, glad you like this little idea I had

[Callisto]

Match Final Results

Member Ratings:
4.80 - JohnnyChany
5.00 - Yazmal
4.50 - Pizza Guy
5.00 - Boratz

FPA Calculation:
4 Total Votes cast
19.30 Total Combined Score
19.30 / 4 = 4.83 Final Rating on the match

MATCH SCORE
Mark Watney: 3
Dejah Thoris: 2