Scene 1
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Poseidon, Oceanus's robotic shark that he brought with him to fite on dry land, was not too happy to be on the hard linoleum floor of the Big Bar Brawl locker room. The shark flailed about, wrecking benches and denting lockers as Oceanus tried his best to calm the beast down.
"Poseidon! Stop, stop! We can't risk you denting yourself before the fite!"
Oceanus tried to get a hold of his shark assistant, but the metal creature was too strong to be held still by the diving robot.
Gamera watched the affair from the other side of the locker room. At first he found the whole affair hilarious, but the joke grew old quickly. Gamera walked over to the scene of the shark flailing and grabbed Poseidon by the tail. The giant turtle lifted the metal shark into the air where his frantic shaking could no longer hurt anyone or anything.
"Geez Oceanus, you should put this thing on a leash! Were you even thinking when you entered with this thing?"
"Yes! No... Maybe? I don't know, I just wanted my shark to kick ass like it did last time. It got me out of a tight spot back in the arctic."
"Well this is not the arctic, so your shark is pretty useless. I guess it could scoot around on its fins. Oh! OH! Wait! Oceanus, how about I carry your shark around for you so he isn't completely useless?"
Oceanus had intended to fite in the Brawl alone, but if having an alliance meant that his shark actually got to hurt someone, he would be willing to make an exception. "That sounds awesome Gamera! I was just going to sit in a corner and hope people who attacked me would fall in his jaws, but this plan is much better! Wait... What's in it for you?"
"Are you kidding? Getting to swing a metal shark around like a club is more than enough for me!"
"Great! Looks like I got an ally!"
Gamera and Oceanus shook on their alliance. Poseidon still wriggled in Gamera's grip, but a lot of its anger had dissipated into dull acceptance.
"Hey Gamera, if we are allies, does that mean I can ride you as you fly about?"
"I'm not going to risk scuffing my shell so you can joyride around the arena. We are supposed to be fiting, and I really want to bop someone on the head with my torch!"
"Fine, fine. What if I rode you and provided some cover fire?"
"Oh yeah, you have a million weapons in your hands. What do you got there again?"
Oceanus cleared his throat, even though as a robot he literally couldn't and didn't ever need to. "Well you see, my cannon arm is currently limited to the Bubble Lead, but both my arms have tridents attached on top. One hand's fingers all have unique functions! One can shoot mercury, one can produce steam, one is an oil-based flamethrower, one fires acid, and the last finger can freeze things with liquid nitrogen! Unlike my Bubble Lead, these weapons... HEY! Gamera! You can't really be asleep! I've only been talking for about a minute!"
Gamera had indeed dozed off while Oceanus ranted about his weapons. The giant turtle was propped up against the lockers, but his slumber had caused him to ease up his grip on Poseidon. The giant metal shark came crashing down, and the impact snapped Poseidon out of its earlier funk. The shark began gnashing with new vigor, causing Oceanus to once again futilely try to calm it down.
Scene 2
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"Looks like you are about to fite to the death. Need some help?" Clippy the paper clip was sitting on one of the provided benches as he waited for the brawl to start. His tank sat in the locker room as well. After all, a locker room that could contain giants like Gamera and Gezora could probably fit a tank or two as well.
Clippy's question was directed at Widow Maker, who was watching the other fiters intently. In the background you could see Poseidon struggling, other fiters talking, two people arm-wrestling, and a dog and a sheep trading barnyard noises. Widow Maker waved her claw to try and hush Clippy.
"I don't need help necessarily, but I assumed we already had an alliance going into this. It is like some cosmic force is telling us not to hurt each other in the arena. Keep it down though, I'm trying to pick up on any important information these other people are discussing. Last year there were some tapes released before the Brawl I really wish I could've seen beforehand."
"Well, I'd love to help you with that! While you spy on everyone else, I could
-List the abilities of other fiters
-Find out who the mystery fiters are
-Unmask the mysterious Contestant R
-Never show this tip again"
Widow Maker turned away from her eavesdropping for a moment. "You could find out who the mystery fiters are? Hmm... No. I am curious, but I hate spoilers. I already know the abilities of the other fiters, and I know who Contestant R is..."
"Wait! You know who Contestant R is? But he's never removed his mask!"
"Really Clippy? Fine, how about you go try and unmask him. I bet you absolutely won't be surprised... But then again this is Fite Yer' Mates. Perhaps Contestant R, for some crazy contrived reason, could be someone else... Okay, I'll accompany you then."
Widow Maker and Clippy went over to Contestant R, who was sitting in a corner of the locker room. The Orb of Mystery sat snugly between his hands. Whoever this 24 centimeter tall mystery man is, he has a poker face that could beat a statue in a staring contest. Widow Maker stood behind Clippy as the tiny Microsoft assistant got in the masked face of the anonymous entrant.
"Alright then, pal! This is an investigation! We are here to figure out just who is behind that domino mask and cape!"
The end of Clippy's paper clip body shot out for the mask, but Contestant R moved his orb up a bit to block his face. Clippy was not one to give up so easily though. He continued to shoot his tip out, trying desperately to remove Contestant R's mask. Every time, the blow was blocked by the orb.The funny thing is, Contestant R hadn't moved the orb since the first attempt. Widow Maker faceclawed at the sight of Clippy repeatedly ramming his tip against the stagnant orb.
Before Clippy could humiliate himself anymore, Widow Maker lifted the paper clip and began to carry him away. "Come on Clippy, you shouldn't make a fool of yourself until you are in the arena. That's where all the crazy stuff happens."
"You may have won this round Contestant R, but I will find out who you really are!" Contestant R continued staring blankly after them. Why was he so silent? Why were his eyes drawn to the bright lights on the locker room ceiling? Why did he never move from his spot on the bench? Perhaps he is plotting... Perhaps he knows something we all don't! PERHAPS THERE SHOULD BE SOME SORT OF DISCLAIMER HERE ABOUT HOW STRONG HE MIGHT BE!
Scene 3
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General T.F. Meagher did not have time to fool around. As everyone else embarrassed themselves as they talked to each other, he made sure that his weapons were in order. His rifle had been prepared long ago, but he was still compelled to check the weapon to ensure it had not been tampered with. He didn't trust the others. They were the new flock. He was from a simpler time, where not having a mustache was grounds enough for a fight to the death.
Pulling out one of his bottles of whiskey, Meagher dulled his senses a bit. The alcohol spilled out of his ghostly body, but the taste was enough to give him the right state of mind for a fite of this scale. What he hadn't expected was to hear the sound of slurping coming from beneath him. Looking down, he saw Gezora guzzling the whiskey that was spilling out of his body.
Meagher flitted away from Gezora, "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"Gezora saw perfectly good vintage whiskey going to waste! It would be a crime not to catch it with Gezora's mouth!"
Meagher pulled back his half-empty bottle and was ready to smash the bottle over Gezora's head before a hand seized the brew.
"Hey, don't pick on Gezora for cleaning up after you."
Meagher turned around. Major Failure was standing behind him. This man was responsible for all of Zoofights, and therefore responsible for his death. Meagher would have swung the bottle around to hit the Major as well if the hippo-headed dictator hadn't just yanked the bottle from his grip.
"You've got so much whiskey, how about you share it a bit? It's just booze after all."
Meagher suppressed his rage and put on a facade of calmness. If these people were so desperate for spirits, than maybe...
"I would not dare share my beer with an opponent, but perhaps I would be less stingy to give some ALLIES some of my whiskey..."
Gezora pulled itself off of the ground, "Gezora will gladly help you if it means Gezora can wet its gills with whiskey! You seem to have no meat on your bones anyway." Gezora was all too eager to try and fail to shake the immaterial hand of Meagher, whereas the Major simply nodded.
"You got yourself a deal there General. Now hand a bottle or two over here."
Major Failure and Gezora began guzzling the old alcohol. Meagher was uneasy with forming an alliance with anyone, but at least these two had some history with Zoofights like he did. He wanted to get Major back for his death, but it was more strategic to keep as many foes as possible from trying to kill him. Perhaps with these two helping he'd be able to survive long enough to take out the finalists. But wait...
What if they were planning to backstab him? Betray him at his weakest?
Meanwhile, in Gezora and Major's minds...
"AWWWW YEAAAAAHHH, FREEE BOOOOOZZZZZZE!"
Meagher eyed his new allies warily. But they would not be his only allies in the arena. He poured one bottle out on the ground.
"That one's for you. See you soon, my friends."
Major and Gezora were a bit confused by this.
"Yeah, I guess we'll see you pretty soon," said the Major.
"Most likely in the arena!" said Gezora.
The whispers on the wind (well, not wind so much as air-conditioning) were only heard by the General as he once more looked over his gun.
Scene 4
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On one of the benchs, the three Custard Kittens were meowing to each other in a language only they knew. The squinty eyed one seemed to be the leader, with the bent one seeming to be the Han Solo to the squinty cat's Luke Skywalker. In other words, he wasn't as happy as the other. The frozen cat was silent and unmoving. If its eyes didn't blink it would seem like it was dead. I guess it's the R2-D2 in this metaphor that really had no point in the first place.
Rainbow Dash was watching her assistants converse, scratching her head with a hoof as she tried to make out any hint of a language. Sine approached from behind the pegasus, laughing a bit.
"Hello Rainbow Dash. I am a bit surprised to see you returning this year."
"What do you mean surprised? I was cheated out of a victory last year! I swear if they hadn't ganged up on me in the beginning I would have taken the top spot!"
"I'm sure you'll do much better than second to last place this year Rainbow."
"I know I will! I've got a whole bunch of new abilities, like this thing I can do if I... HEY! Are you trying to get me to spill the beans on my cool new moves?"
"No way Rainbow, I just came over because I find your assistants to be cute!"
"Yeah... I don't know where they came from! I just entered and for some reason I got them as my weapon. I wanted to bring my lance again this year! I didn't really get to use it last time. Now I'm saddled with these cats, and they just want to slow me down! I think they got it in their heads that they'll ride me into battle, but they are so cold and sticky!"
Sine laughed. It did not seem to be a real one, but her whole happy mood while around the pony seemed a bit manufactured. Anybody who knew Sine would be able to surmise that she was trying to keep her mind off of Jaxx, who was across the locker room staring directly at her. She had decided to ignore him for now, best not to give him anything else to work with in the arena.
"Hey," Rainbow Dash's voice interrupted Sine's train of thought, "why did you join in? I just want to show off, but someone like you, I doubt you'll make it out of the locker room!"
"Very funny. I came here to settle a score. I have had a problem following me for much too long. Have you noticed how everyone else in this locker room is going out of their way to ignore me?"
"Um... No. I don't think that is what they are doing. Maybe you are not as interesting as you think. Now me, that's a good question! Why is everyone ignoring me?"
Rainbow Dash was up and in the air, ready to race around the locker room demanding attention, but Sine's hand quickly caught the pony by the tail before she could humiliate herself.
"Save your energy. If anything Rainbow, you might want to make friends with those cats. They may be your only hope when things get rough in the arena."
"Fine, fine. I'll try."
Sine walked off, adjusting The Rig on her back. Rainbow Dash landed next to the kittens. They stopped their mewing and looked at Rainbow.
"Alright you kittens... Um... Meow?"
The Custard Kittens stared blankly at Rainbow Dash.
"Hmm... Vanilla meow?"
Still nothing.
"Fine. You guys just do whatever, as long as you don't get in my way!"
Whether or not the kittens understood that is not important. What is important is that as soon as Rainbow Dash turned around to walk away, all three of the creamy felines hopped aboard her back. Rainbow Dash grumbled as she lugged the three light but awfully messy cats around the locker room.
Scene 5
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Pit is doing stretches. Or rather, Pit is trying to do stretches. You see, every time Pit stretches his muscles, a sharp pain goes up the young angel's back. Each time this happened, the boy let out a rather deep groan, the kind a fat guy might make while he picks up a dropped hostess product.
Doktor Hanz had not intended to talk to anyone as he walked around the locker room, but the grunts and groans were beginning to get on the nerves of an accordion-headed man who is much more sober than he'd like to be at the moment.
Doktor Hanz walked over to Pit. "Ich thought Ich heard ze Presidential Seal bellowing."
"Oh, ha ha. Yeah, I've got this awful crick in my back and I can't seem to do anything about it. I'm worried it might mess me up in the arena..."
"Bah, all you need is mein help."
"Your help? No offense, but I don't even recognize you!"
"Mein apologies, Ich ein Doktor Hanz."
"Oh, a doctor! In that case work your magic on my back! You see, I think I got it when I was in-"
Before Pit could finish, Doktor Hanz had planted his foot on Pit's back and grabbed the boy's arms with his hands. Keeping him in place with the hold, Doktor Hanz pushed his foot deep into into Pit's back. There was a sickening crack, but the sound of bones popping was dwarfed by the angel's shriek of pain.
"What the hell doc? I thought you were going to fix it!"
"Go ahead zen. Stretch."
Pit's furious gaze at Hanz gave way to one of stubbornness. Pit began to stretch, hoping to prove that Hanz had only aggravated the situation, but he found his stretching to be painless.
"Wow, I guess it did work! Still, what kind of doctor treats their patients like that!?"
"Ich am not zat kind of doctor. I am a doktor of science. Ich have performed many unique experiments during mein lifetime."
Pit looked over the accordion-headed Doktor curiously. The accent, the uniform, experiments... "Wait a minute... are you a Nazi Doktor? I hope you don't kill me because I don't have blond hair or a perfect chin."
"Nein, Ich vill not kill you for those reasons."
"Yikes... Well I guess we are here to kill people."
"Do not vorry angel-boy, mein targets in zis var are much bigger."
"Oh, I get ya. You are going for those big guys first. The kaijus, Erebus... maybe even the mystery fiters!"
"Zat is correct. Ich am intrigued to see ze new fiters. Did you know zat Fite Yer' Mates has not had locker rooms until this fite? Ich am a veteran of some of the oldest fites, and never did zat geist provide a place for us to vash or vait for ze matches."
"I think I see what you are getting at. The mystery fiters probably demanded them! Yeesh, I don't want to face whoever forced the ghost host to build new crap. I'll just stand back as you deal with whatever pantheon of dark gods those mystery fiters might be."
"Nein, I know ze geist's humour. Jumpropeman vill not seek out ze most powerful enemies for us. He vill seek out ze surprise, ze one zat makes us vonder vat he vas thinking. Zese locker rooms... zey are a hint to zer identities."
"Listen, buddy, as much as I like your theory, I can't understand you all those "zees" and "zays" and "vavavas". You have to work on that accent."
"Ich may be ze Deutsch vone, but you are ze vone being intolerant, angel-boy."
Hanz quickly turned away from Pit, his accordion head, letting out a musical huff as he marched off. He regrets sharing any of his theories with the boy. He was foolhardy, Hanz thought, too full of foolish vigor to truly win this Big Bar Brawl.
As Pit resumed his stretches, his thoughts were the complete opposite of Hanz's. He believed the Doktor was the one unfit for the brawl. In the angel's eyes, Doktor Hanz was a washed-up relic of older times, coasting on his reputation and early successes.
Only the arena will be able to prove if these assumptions are true.
Scene 6
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Even though the locker room was positively massive, Waspinator still had difficulty maneuvering about. His stripey abdomen kept slamming into lockers and he seemed to trip over every bench in sight. The Predacon could have sworn that a few lockers swung open just to hit him on the face.
Anyone else who faced such an obstacle course might have just sat down and gave up, but not this robot. Waspinator saw someone he wanted to talk to, and he'd run the locker room gauntlet if it meant reaching him.
On the other side of the locker room was IronicHide, who was sitting atop the Decepticon Ravage. Waspinator pushed on, but by the time he finally reached the two, Waspinator was crawling on the ground.
"Wazzzpinator... Such a huge fan...."
IronicHide looked down at the Predacon, "Couldn't you have just transformed into a bug and flown over here?"
"No... No... thingzzzz would have zzztill gone horribly..."
Waspinator pulled himself together and stood up.
"It izzzz a pleazzzzure to meet you Ravage! A fellow Tranzzzformer, and zzzzuch a zzzztrong one too!"
"Thank you Waspinator," Ravage said, "I am eager to face you and the others in the arena."
IronicHide began to smack Ravage on the head, clearly it was meant to be a few pets, but it was clear Ravage thought otherwise. "You mean this pretty kitty here? Yeah, Ravage is going to tear things up in the arena! Isn't that right, Ravage?"
Ravage sighed, "I apologize Waspinator. This guy seems to have got it in his head that I am unable to speak."
"Hush up now, Ravage! No need to growl at the nice robot! Pets, let me tell ya, think they own the place."
Waspinator was very confused. He understood what they both were saying, but his mind was not able to sort out that one of them was wrong and one of them was right. He shook his head to try and clear his mind. "Wazzzpinator juzzzt wanted to know what Ravage wazzzz like in real life! Wazzzzpinator only heard of Ravage! Ravage izzzz zzzzurprizzzzingly level-headed..."
"My rider is an exercise in patience... I assure you in the arena you will see me at my most fierce." Before Ravage could continue though, IronicHide burst back into the conversation.
"Oh don't worry, I've got him under control right now, but once we are in the arena, I am going to sic him on Major Failure. That guy is going to go down so hard that the Chinese will be digging him back up!"
IronicHide began to kick on Ravage's side, "Go over to the Major, I want to gloat a bit."
Ravage did not move from his spot, but he did look sadly at Waspinator.
"I would not be overly disappointed if someone were to rid me of this rider."
Waspinator nodded at first, but then was quick to shake his head, "Ravage! Ravage muzzzt do his bezzzt! Bring great pride to the Decepticonzzz. Ravage's rider may not underzzzztand what Ravage zzzayzzz, but Ravage'zzz zzzkillzzz must be shown! Ravage shall clear the arena!"
Ravage pondered Waspinator's words. It appears the pep talk had its intended effect. Ravage nodded to Waspinator, "You are right. IronicHide is an excellent fiter, if a bit too drunk to realize I can talk. I am sure that if we work in tandem we will easily take down all our foes."
IronicHide began kicking Ravage's sides harder. "Come on Ravage, Major is getting free booze from a ghost! We got to get over there before that ghost runs out!"
Ravage began to try and lecture IronicHide about trying to keep his wits about him, but the interviewer continues to deny Ravage's ability to speak. Waspinator realized that they were done talking to him, so he began to set out on the dangerous quest of finding the way out of the locker room. It's best he start early, or else he might not ever make it to the brawl in time.
Waspinator went into his beast form and tried to fly toward the door, but the locker room's lights somehow got in the way. Despite being higher up than the heads of giant cuttlefish, Waspinator found himself fighting a desperate battle against light fixtures as he futilely tried to fly towards the door that lead to the arena.
A half an hour later, Waspinator would discover that he was flying towards the wrong door all along. Although he would end up entering the arena at the same time as the other contestants, what was a straight shot to the door for most would be one of the hardest mazes Waspinator ever navigated through...
"Why locker room hate Wazzzpinator?"
Scene 7
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Most of the fiters understood that they would have to wait a while for the fite to start. One fiter, however, was much too eager to kick some ass to wait around in a locker room for his chance to do so.
Samson had tried sitting on one of the benches, passing the time by humming a Scottish tune, but the anticipation was too much. He stood up with a roar, pounding one of his fists against a locker.
"Ah huv bin damn well patient fur long enough. A'm wantin' tae fite already! Ah will take any a' ye on right noo! Any a' ye!"
Samson pulled up his dukes and prepared for a fist fight, but no one seemed to respond to his challenge. The only acknowledgement he got at all was the head of Jumpropeman briefly popping into the locker room, "No one fites until the brawl starts, so calm down in there!"
Just as quick as the ghost had popped in, he disappeared. Samson was angry enough without being told he couldn't fite until later. He slammed another locker with his fists, trying to release some of the pent up anger, but it wasn't working. He plopped back down onto a bench and started to grumble.
"None o' ye huv th' guts tae face me. A sorry lot o' cowards ye are, nae willing tae rise tae a challenge..."
Constantine had been trying his best to ignore the angry and obviously inebriated Scotsman, but as Samson grumbled more and more about how all the other fiters were wimps and he was the only brave one, Constantine could not suppress his irritation any longer. Constantine stomped over to Samson, "If it will shut you up, then I will gladly face you in a contest of strength. But since we cannot fite in the traditional sense until later, I suggest we settle things with a simple arm wrestle."
"Really now? A bout o' arm wrestling? Ah hope ye knuu whit yer in fur! Those twigs ye ca' arms dinnae staun a chance!"
Samson laughed as he rolled up his sleeve and put his elbow down. Constantine maintained a stoney face as he clasped the Arbiter's hand. The two stared intently at each other, "On the count of three then?"
"Aye."
1
2
4
I mean 3
Go!
Constantine and Samson both pushed with a massive amount of force as soon as the match began. Samson's fingers dug into Constantine's skin, making it hard for the emperor's muscles to even allow him to continue grasping Samson's huge digits. Although Samson's fingers had the upper hand (sorry...) on the pressure, Constantine was the one who was making leeway in the pushing department.
Samson's arm constantly teased the Emperor with victory only to snap back up before it could completely be pressed down. All in all, it was an even match, and both fiters knew it.
"Seems we ur at an impasse, eh?"
"Indeed it does."
"Care tae mak' this a wee more interesting?"
"I was about to suggest the same thing. A wager: If I win, you must take down that brute in the armor, Erebus. That armor seems like it would be hard to even dent."
"Alright, alright. An' if ah win, ye git tae gut that an sheep ower thare that's bleating at th' dog. Ah haven't hud haggis in a while, an' woud lik' a bitta munchies during th' match."
"You have a deal."
The stalemate continued for a bit longer, but Constantine began to laugh.
"Whit urr ye laughing at?"
"Want to know something funny Samson? I've been holding back this whole time." Constantine's arms suddenly pushed with immense strength. Samson's arm flew to the side, but it stopped just a centimeter or two before it would have been out.
"Wanna know something even funnier Constantine? A've bin hauldin' back too."
Constantine yelped as the Scotsman's grip tightened like a bony vise. The surprise was enough to cause the emperor to let up on the pressure, allowing Samson to slam Constantine's arm down and claim victory. Samson stood up and cheered as Constantine nursed his hand.
"Well lookie thare! Looks lik' ye juist lost a bet mah friend!"
"Indeed I have, and I intend to honor it. I will kill that sheep for you, but on the condition that you keep anyone who tries to attack me while doing so at bay."
"Nae a prablem. Ah will keep them awa' as lang as ye gut that animal!"
Samson was in a much better mood now that he had shown someone up. Constantine was not too happy to have been out-hustled, but he was glad that Samson would now watch his back. Killing a sheep would not be that difficult of a task surely.
I mean, it's just a sheep...
Scene 8
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Anybody who knew Designate would be able to guess quite easily what he was doing right now. The necronaut was busy fiddling with his suit, ensuring it was properly configured and ready to handle anything his opponents could throw at him. Prior to even entering he had made sure the suit was more than ready to handle the typical fare: fire, ice, pressure. The people of the King of Beasts could come up with many crazy ways to kill a man, but it was always good to keep yourself protected from the classic methods.
The character lotto had thrown Designate for a loop though. 6 extra contestants, some he had never met before and others he could hardly understand had been thrown into the mix. There is only so many things you can prepare for before you overburden yourself with precautions. Designate 5 tinkered with his many available options to eliminate the needless ones and implement only the best and most helpful tech.
As he stood around futzing with his suit, one of the most unpredictable lotto entrants was sneaking slowly towards him. In such a busy locker room it did not pay to leap at every bit of motion around you, so Designate was too late in reacting to the unseen ambush.
Doomrider leaped up onto Designate's shoulders and took a big whiff of the azure flames that surround the skeleton's head. By the time the necronaut had pried Doomrider from his back, the servant of Slaanesh was already tripping on the ethereal energy.
"Dude, your hair is fucking TIGHT!" Doomrider shouted, giggling as the fires worked through his system.
"It is not hair, it is a flame that flows around my skull."
"Dude, hair is hair, even if it is actually fire. Look at my head. Bright as a fucking christmas tree on the sun. This flame don't stop burning, but it ain't got shit on your trippy do!"
"I will salvage the compliment from that trainwreck of a sentence and thank you for it. I would appreciate if you do not inhale any more of my flame though."
"Dude, no need to be so fucking uptight. I am just jonesing for some good highs. Need something to motivate me to kill some dudes, knawimsayin?"
"I do 'know what you are saying', but I will not provide you with any stimulants, especially since they would detriment myself to do so. I cannot afford to lose my strength just to give you a 'buzz'."
"Fine. Whatever dude. I don't need any fucking charity anyway. I can find my own damn drugs. Speaking of, that nuclear fuel rods looks positively..."
"Do not even finish that sentence. I will not let you consume my weapon or anything else on my person. We are about to enter the biggest fite of the year and I cannot just hand out vital assets to anyone. I hope you will understand."
Doomrider sighed. "I guess. If you are going to be stingy just fucking say so!"
Designate was about to turn away before he noticed something. "Did you not bring a weapon, Doomrider? Or have you already consumed it in your quest for new highs?"
"Pffft, I am not that dumb. I have a weapon. Probably a bike or something. With spikes on it! And, it can shoot cocaine, and shoot fire out of the rear tires..."
"Doomrider, whether or not you have that bike, you do not seem fit for this arena. No offense, but you talk like a middle schooler who just discovered he can get away with cursing, and your addiction to drugs is pitiful at best. If you wish to win, you will need a focused mind and a sound strategy."
"...
Well FUCK you too, buddy!"
Doomrider's bike appeared beneath him, exactly as it had been described. Flipping off Designate with more middle fingers than should be possible, Doomrider rode his bike through the wall without breaking it. You could hear his muffled voice from the other side of the wall, "Hey mystery fiters! Nice shoes!"
Doomrider phased back through the wall and drove all around the room, but he did not hit anybody (except Waspinator). He was driving on the ceiling.
Designate shook his head at Doomrider's antics and began to look through his necrotech once more.
"There is always one ardent curser amongst the bunch it seems.
Let's see, do I have a subroutine that can keep him from trying to huff any more of my hair... I MEAN FLAME! Goddammit...No! I mean... Oh screw it."
Scene 9
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Richard flipped a coin over and over as he looked around the locker room. So many of the other fiters seemed to be arguing with each other, and it made Richard nervous. Everyone seemed ready to rumble, and although he did not doubt his own abilities, he hardly knew the people he was about to fite. All he could do to keep himself calm was to continue to flip the coin.
Erebus had also noticed the animosity between the other fiters, but it did not seem to phase him at all. He remained resolute, but as he scanned the locker room, he noticed Richard's nervous coin flipping. The space marine walked over to Richard, "Ave, Richard. Are you feeling alright?"
Richard missed the coin this time. The coin rolled off into the locker room, coming to a rest at Jaxx's feet. The Sentinel didn't seem to notice, but Richard was not going to go over there and bother him for it. Richard turned to Erebus, "Yeah, I'm doing fine. I'm just trying to get in the right mindset for this fite. Everyone else around here seems to be so angry and hostile."
"Hostility should be the natural reaction to what they are about to face. Everyone here is about to be pitted against each other in a battle to the death. You could make a friend in here only to have them stab you in the back the moment you walk into the arena."
"Yikes... I don't know Erebus, I don't think I can muster up that kind of anger."
"You do not have to be angry to win. We are all a generally friendly bunch, Alice and Jaxx excluded. Anger can be just as good a motivator as it can be a distraction. Last year's champion did not even seem to have emotions, at least until it won that is."
"That's good, I don't feel like getting all worked up. I want this to be a fun fite, and if I win, well that will be just great! I am a bit worried. People like you, that turtle, Jaxx, you could all slice me in half when I'm not looking."
"Worry not Richard, I will not ambush you like so. I am in this battle to win, and I shall not pull any punches, but I shall also fite with honor. If I am to face an opponent in battle, I shall do so on even footing, or as even footing as we can achieve with our differences in strength and weaponry.
Besides Richard, it is not us you should look out for. It seems that in this massive battles, the contestants you least expect to be the most lethal come out on top. Last year's champion was a toy, and I have seen a face in a wall and a group of cats kill opponents of much greater strength. If there are opponents you need to watch out for in the arena, I would recommend watching out for the cute ones and the odd ones."
Richard nodded as he internalized this tip. "Either way, I'm going into there prepared. I've brought all my badges with me to this fite, and even if I run out of Flower Power to use the better ones, I will always have the one that let's me fire off these bad boys." Richard waved a coin at Erebus before he began to flip it once more. However, the frantic flipping of earlier was replaced with slower, calmer tossing. Erebus could easily pick up on the new mood that washed over the bandit detective, and he patted Richard's shoulder.
"I am always eager to see new and unique weaponry. I am sure those badges of yours will add an interesting element to this massive melee."
Erebus walked away, and inside his helm a voice began to speak. It was Sevatar, the soul that inhabited his helm, "It was a good thing to ease the man's nerves, but were you just sicking him on the so-called 'cute' fiters?"
Erebus smirk was not visible to anyone else, but it's impossible to hide your face from the helmet you wear over it, "No, that was not my intent, but if Richard just so happens to eliminate a threat of that sort, than I will not refuse such a benefit."
"Don't get cocky Erebus, even if you weren't trying to manipulate Richard into serving your purposes, those kind of fiters really are quite the problem."
"You do not need to tell me what I already knew. I have a brain within my own head, I do not need a second one in my helm."
Erebus was standing stock still as he and his helm began to discuss the kind of fiters he needs to look out for. Richard had turned around to see what Erebus had gone of to do, and was surprised to find the space marine had not walked off very far. Richard got up and looked at Erebus, realizing that the marine was oddly still. He began to knock on the armor.
"Hello, anybody home?"
Erebus stopped talking to Sevatar and quickly did a 180. "I apologize Richard, I was just talking to the voice in my helm."
Erebus walked away from the detective. Richard stared after Erebus, confused by what he had just heard.
"Perhaps I should reconsider the advice I just got from a guy who listens to voices in his head..."
Sevatar had heard Richard as Erebus was walking away, "Erebus, perhaps you should reconsider helping a guy who talks to himself."
"Perhaps I should just take you off and have you fite Richard on your own. You two seem to have a rivalry brewing."
Erebus let out a hearty laugh as his helmet struggled to come up with a comeback.
Scene 10
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Jaxx sat silently on one of the locker room benches, the last bit of a cigarette dangling from his lips. The only part of him that moved were his eyes. As Sine moved through the locker room and talked with Rainbow Dash, his eyes remained glued to her. The cigarette turned to ash in his mouth, and he spared a moment to spit the ash onto a coin that had rolled over towards him. It was a perfect shot, the ash and saliva encompassing the coin's top perfectly.
Of course, Jaxx never saw how perfect a spit it was, his eyes remained locked on Sine X. Cosine. Sister Alice walked up behind him and sniggered, "Are you just going to keep burning holes in the back of her head with your eyes, or are you going to ask her to marry you already?"
This comment made Jaxx stand up and turn to the blind nun. "I don't give a shit if Sine is a woman. She could be a beluga with a toupee for all I care. I am going to kill that bitch once and for all, and I don't care what a living handbag like you thinks about it."
"You think I care either? Everyone in this locker room will look better under 6 feet of dirt, and I'm here to give them that extreme makeover. I just find your fixation on Sine so precious. 'Battle of the Over-Inflated Egos: Which One Will Pop First?' "
"You'll get your bloodbath, bat-face. I'm going straight for her, going to make sure she dies before she can give me some long-winded lecture on why I suck."
"If you want a lecture on that, I've got a PH.D in knowing what's wrong with your pea-brain."
There was brief moment of silence between the two. It was technically Jaxx's turn to retaliate with another insult, but something else had crossed the Sentinel's mind. "Oi, don't you owe me a favor or some shit like that?"
Alice groaned, "No matter how you put it, you did kill me once. I do owe you a boon, not because I got some dumbass honor system, but because you'll try to bring your victory up as some sort of weakass comeback for the rest of your life if I don't find a way to shut you up about it.
What do you want me to do? Kill that freckled narcissist for you? Don't have the balls to fite that 100-something pound toothpick?"
"Fuck that," said Jaxx, "No, I am going to kill her with my bare hands, and I want you to stay the hell away when I am doing it."
"That's it? What a great favor, I wasn't going to mess with you two anyway. There are more fun people to kill in there than two overgrown adolescents."
Jaxx sighed and lit another cigarette, "That's not the favor you senile old witch. I don't know what I want yet, but if I tell you to do something during the brawl, you better step up and pay your due."
"Better pick something interesting then, I'm not going to stop fiting to shine your damn shoes."
"Your bony fingers would probably break my boots anyway. If we both make it to the end, I'll just ask you to kill yourself. Easiest damn win I'll ever get."
"I'll make sure to rip your tongue out if we ever do get that far."
Jaxx responded, but not with his voice. He began to move his hands, speaking in sign language, "I know thousands of ways to talk without my voice, you arrogant relic."
Alice understood the bit of sign language and responded with a bit of her own. Raising a single bony finger, she said goodbye in the only bit of sign language everyone knows.
Jaxx went back to staring motionlessly at Sine, waiting for the brawl to start. His mind was on how he intended to kill her and what he'd do if he was the one that got killed. But suddenly, his thoughts derailed as something dawned on him: "How the hell did that blind crone see my sign language?
Scene 11
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"Baaaaaaaaaaa"
"Rrrruff! Ruff ruff!"
"Meeeeh, meeeeeeh!"
"Aroooo, rufff!"
"Ba."
"Arf arf arf arf Arrrrrrufff!"
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
"Grrrrrrrrr"
The Sheep and Flamedog were going back and forth with their noises for much longer than is worth relating. Although at times it seemed like one would get angry or the other would get bored, the two animals really just seemed to be making sounds for the sake of making sounds.
Flamedog began to sniff the Sheep, who stood there quietly as the dog did its thing. After the smelling, Flamedog licked the Sheep's face. The sheep seemed awfully pleased to have made a friend.
Of course, just because they were friend did not mean they were going to shut up.
"RUFF RUFF RUFF!"
"Meeeh, baaaaa!"
"Oooorrrr?"
"Aaaaaaaaa."
The sounds they were making sure were getting stranger, but just because the specific vowel sounds were changing did not mean that they were any less annoying.
Devil Ed had tried to tolerate the noises as he attempted to eavesdrop on the conversations of the other fiters, but as the animals got louder and louder, he couldn't even hear himself think! Devil Ed walked over to the two and grabbed Flamedog by the collar.
"Come on boy, you can't just keep making noise all day."
Flamedog whimpered a bit at being dragged away, but the sheep remained completely silent. As Devil Ed and Flamedog got far enough way that they could not see the ungulate anymore, Flamedog began to happily bark as if nothing had changed.
The sheep, on the other hand, continued to not make a noise. It stared blankly forward, the image of Devil Ed burnt in its retinas. Literally. If you looked at its eyes right now, you would see a reflection of the half-demon fiter. The sheep began to quiver, and if you were still looking deeply into a sheep's eyes for some reason, you might notice that Devil Ed was melting in a grotesque scene ripped straight from the end of the Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Devil Ed was unaware of any of this going on though, as he tried to keep Flamedog from running around the locker room anymore. The dog was way too excited to be here.
The ground beneath the sheep began to blacken and crack. Its legs began to phase through the ruined linoleum tiles, and soon the sheep's entire body had disappeared through the floor. The sound of one last bleat was heard throughout the locker room, and it seemed to echo repeatedly around the area Ed and his dog were in...
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