Ultimate Monster Battle Arena Season XXXVI First Round Battles

The Arena is absolutely brimming: the air electric with the excitement. The seating, extending high above the Arena floor, is heaving with eager crowds keyed up for the long-awaited Heavyweight match. As the Fight draws close, the gates to the Arena spectator entrances are sealed and bolted with a boom that echoes through the stadium, with an uncanny ripple of quiet following it before the incredibly magnified voice of beloved commentator, Unfiltered, thunders through the Arena.

“ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA FANS: THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR - THE BATTLE THAT'S BEEN BREWING SINCE LAST SEASON - THE SEASON THIRTY-SIX GRUDGE MATCH BETWEEN TWO TITANS OF THE ARENA. ARE YOU READY FOR THIS, BASTION???”

The crowd roars, and the supernaturally powerful lights from the top of the Arena blare on, illuminating the Arena below: ice fills the Arena bowl, with frost being whipped up into an icy breeze. There's an audible “ooh” from the stands, as the challenge up ahead becomes clear, which is only matched as the building-sized doors at one end of the Arena open, and steam billows out, the ice near the door already beginning to melt.

“PRESENTING THE ONE TO BEAT, THE MAGISTER OF MAGMA, THE TYRANT OF FLAME, THE GRAND CHAMPION OF SEASON THIRTY-FIVE, VOOOOOLCAAAAANOOOOSAUUUUURUUUUUUSSSSSSS!!!!”

The behemoth emerges, the ground shaking with every step: the gigantic bipedal legend that adorns posters, clothing, and lunchboxes in every corner of Bastion; its dark black volcanic rock armour masking the glowing orange magma visible in the enormous volcanic craters that line its back. Volcanosaurus marches forth, its eyes fixed front, its hot breath steaming in the cold.

“AND THE CHALLENGER!” continues Unfiltered, “BEATEN OUT OF A PLACE IN THE GRAND CHAMPIONSHIP, THIS AVIAN ANNOYANCE IS BACK WITH A VENGEANCE: COULD VOLCANOSAURUS'S FLOW BE FALTERED BY THIS FOWL FOE? IT'S THE ONE, THE ONLY, HOOOOWLIIIING TERROOOOORRRR!!!!”

The opposite Arena doors burst open with a screech as out charges a long-necked feathered beast, half the size of Volcanosaurus but easily more agile. It stretches out its enormous wings to a roar of appreciation from the crowds, and scratches the surface of the ice with its talons, slicing easily through the surface.

Unfiltered continues, “The rules are as ever the same: two Monsters enter, one leaves victorious. Overseeing the fight is the legendary Umpire Doom: let's not wait any more: LET! BATTLE! COMMENCE!!!”

The sound of an enormous gong sounds, familiar to any who know Unfiltered's commentating, and the battle begins. Unfiltered keeps speaking as the crowds cheer, chanting the name of their favourite Monster, clutching betting slips and crossing fingers.

Howling Terror makes the first move: in a practiced movement it charges across the ice, claws giving it purchase on the slippery surface, and races toward the slow Volcanosaurus. It leaps into the air as the approaching volcanic titan trudges forward, but its attack is easily deflected by a swipe of the reigning Champion's rocky arm. The bird goes skidding across the ice, but finishes on its feet ready for another attack.

Volcanosaurus continues its slow advance, but finds its every step melts the ice beneath it: its massive feet crash through the ice and into a growing lake, but it continues to walk, its eyes on Howling Terror as the bird-like creature starts lining up for another charge. Howling Terror charges, but this time at the last minute feints and strikes Volcanosaurus in the chest as the giant's arm swings high above. Its talons scratch the rock, leaving more striations in the surface of the creature's armour, but the force doesn't seem to push Volcanosaurus, who roars in defiance as Howling Terror kicks off its chest and lands on the increasingly melting surface of the lake.

Volcanosaurus roars, and the crowd goes wild in anticipation of a legendary VOLCANO PUNCH ATTACK as it draws back its arm, but Howling Terror dodges just as the fiery fist comes slamming down, causing Volcanosaurus to punch through the ice, following through into the icy water. Terror uses the opportunity to dart up the exposed arm as Volcanosaurus roars in frustration, and what might be pain.

On its back, though, the crowd and commentator find themselves going quiet as Howling Terror lines itself up for Volcanosaurus's other legendary attack in which its back would erupt and lava would come raining down on its foes. Would the cold slow it down? Could Howling Terror make it through?

Perhaps the Corsair trained it, or perhaps it remembered the pain from last time, but Howling Terror moves quickly, using its claws to climb Volcanosaurus's back as its opponent's head turns round and the magma inside begins to glow hotter. Volcanosaurus roars, and there's an enormous rumbling as the attack begins, but then…

“Where's the kaboom?” asks Unfiltered, “There's meant to be an Arena-shaking Kaboom! Oh no, oh no indeed: it looks like VOLCANOSAURUS HAS FAILED TO ERUPT!”

The crowd is astonished, and Volcanosaurus is too. There's a faint shout of “NO!” from the central box, but it's immediately lost in the carnal shriek of delight from Howling Terror which begins a campaign of pecking and slashing at Volcanosaurus's iconic face. The Champion bats and bites at Terror, its hot breath still managing to singe the creature's feathers, but its magma is clearly running cold: one slash to the eye and Volcanosaurus stumbles, its legs smashing through the melting surface and tripping.

Volcanosaurus falls, and with an icy tidal wave comes to rest in the middle of the Arena. Ten seconds pass, with the Arena filling with steam, until:

“VOLCANOSAURUS IS OUT!!!” shouts the Umpire, “HOWLING TERROR WINS THE MATCH!!!”

The crowd goes wild, both in support of Howling Terror and in outrage for Volcanosaurus. There's no Rules clarification: it's a straight win for the trainer Corsair.

It takes a while, but eventually the natural synergy between your monsters begins to shine through. Little Thread is capable of producing an ever changing platform of ropes, slopes and arches for the Rollerpedes to dance and roll along. A rainbow gymnasium for their acrobatics. Your working right until the very last minute, but eventually the hour of the dance off arrives.

“MONSTER ENTHUSIASTS OF BASTION, WE HAVE A SPECIAL SHOW FOR YOU TONIGHT. CHAMPION ZEPHYR, TRAINER OF VICTORY VIPER HAS ISSUED A DANCE OFF AND NOT ONE BUT TWO TRAINERS HAVE ACCEPTED.”

The arena has been refurbished for the match: the arena is flattened and the normally sandy floor has been replaced with a waxed wooden dance floor.

“INTRODUCING OPEN SQUARE BRACKET BAD STAR CLOSE SQUARE BRACKET AND THEIR MONSTER LITTLE THREAD.”

A door opens in the side of the arena and little thread begins to undulate it’s way into the Arena, to much groaning from the crowd. A mechanical silkworm glints in the lights, and seems to be leaving a scintillating trail of mystery goo behind it. [BAD STAR] also makes their way to a platform overlooking the Arena, shouting praise down at the creature.

“NEXT UP IS MOROSE PROGRESS OF PROGRES AND STEEPLE MARVELLOUS ROLLING BEETLES AND THEIR MONSTER ROLLERPEDES!”

With a trumpet fanfare Rollerpedes rolls in, a swarm of insectoid units curled up into spheres and rolling in formation, with Morose Progress standing awkwardly atop them. The crowd claps and whistles and cheers as Rollerpedes goes through a few basic routines to amuse the masses.

“AND FINALLY WE HAVE THE CHAMPION THEMSELVES: ZEPHYR AND VICTORY VIPER!”

Zephyr strides into the arena, and the crowd roars. Bouncers have to fight to keep their crazed fans at bay. They smile and wave to the crowd. A gate opens and Victory viper comes slithering into the arena, a vast serpent with a Diamond shaped head and two arms that splay like the roots of a tree. It is cloaked in green and gold scales, and it opens it’s maw and hisses at it’s foes.

“LET THE DANCE BATTLE COMMENCE!”

Spotlights turn on the performing monsters and their trainers, the crowd hushes and the music starts. Victory Viper makes the first move, and it’s obvious from that very instant that the other monsters are artistically outclassed. It sways, perfectly synchronized to the beats, smoothly moving from one pose to the next. Little Thread undulates and Rollerpedes begins to run their formations, dancing towards each other.

As the two get close Little Thread begins spinning a rainbow dance-floor that glitters spreading multi-colour rays across the arena. There’s a scratch and with a roar from the crowd the music gets… funkier. Rollerpedes manage to capture the audience’s attention as they scatter across the floor in geometric formations, acrobatically dancing across loops and arches of Little Thread’s technicolour silk.

Victory Viper instantly transitions though, sweeping it’s arms in diagonal arcs in time to the music. It dances a little way towards the other two. And that’s when it falls over. Like little chitenous marbles, rogue Rollerpedes have scattered across the floor and tripped the Viper.

It’s up in a moment but you can see the beasts composure is cracked. It hisses and moves to snap at the little Rollerpedes but with a whistle form Zephyr the giant serpent comes to its senses. The beast is clearly distracted and every time it gets into it’s flow, it is distracted again. It keeps moving to snap at the frustrating beetles, but it’s movements grow ever more lethargic as it pivots between dancing and fighting.

The swarm rolls on relentlessly even as the green-gold serpent tires. Trapeze, beetle towers, all manner of acrobatic feat performed to the beat. They lack the poise of the Viper but it doesn’t matter, the crowd loves it! They swing from rainbow silk, roll along glittering arches and occasionally even pick up Little Thread and dance it around. Rollerpedes doesn’t shine like Victory Viper, but here in this moment with Little Threads help the crowd can’t look away.

Eventually the Umpire calls it. The crowd, or at least most of it, has made it clear who they love.

“WITH VICTORY VIPER PUSHED TO EXHAUSTION, AND LITTLE THREAD APPARENTLY DOING MORE TO HELP THEIR COMPETITION THAN HINDER IT WE GIVE THIS DANCE OFF TO ROLLERPEDES!”

“Dearest audience, welcome to the Arena! I, Decibel, am honoured to be your Commentator tonight—how could I possibly pass up the chance to cover a battle as intense as this? On the side of the darkness, we have a true villain… the impossibly cruel DARK STEEL!”

The audience boos as the Arena lights illuminate a patch of ground obscured by smoke, but their voices are quickly drowned out by the sound of heavy percussion as a loud piece of entrance music plays from somewhere beneath the Arena. The smoke begins to fade, first revealing a viciously spiky silhouette and then Dark Steel’s entire form. He appears to have been decorated since his last appearance in the Arena: blood red metallic spines are attached to the hilt of many of the swords that make up his body, and under the Arena spotlight they cast dark shadows across the Monster. The music dies down and Decibel speaks again.

“What an entrance! Who could possibly stand a chance of taking down this brute? I think I might have an idea… new to the Arena and ready to tear down Dark Steel’s reign of terror, give it up for KRYSTALKORPION!”

A second set of Arena lights illuminate a crystalline creature on the other side of the Arena, larger than Dark Steel but significantly less intimidating in appearance. There’s polite applause from the audience, but nothing to match their passionate reaction to Dark Steel’s entrance. That’s when another beam of light hits KRYSTALKORPION, brighter than the Arena spotlight and aimed from somewhere high in the stands. Coloured lights scatter across the Arena, dazzling the crowd. KRYSTALKORPION slowly moves from side to side under the light, showing off every gleaming, polished surface on its body. The audience goes wild at the display.

“Would you look at that, folks?! Apparently, that’s the work of famed fashion icon [BAD STAR]! Hey, wouldn't KRYSTALKORPION fit right into the Swimsuit Championship…? Light versus dark, hero versus villain… I can’t wait for this match to start! Umpire Sway, are you ready?”

The Umpire nods and her voice booms out across the Arena. “MONSTER FANS, ARE YOU READY?? THEN LET THE BATTLE… COMMENCE!”

KRYSTALKORPION begins charging forwards, followed by the spotlights, and then it… stops. Tilts its head to one side curiously. Dark Steel is still standing stationary on the other side of the Arena.

“Uh-oh!” calls Decibel gleefully. “Looks like Dark Steel is a little too relaxed!”

There’s an angry snarl from the Trainer bench and the crowd collectively turns to see Blade howling obscenities in the general direction of the Commentator’s box.

“DARK STEEL CLEARLY JUST DOESN’T THINK KRYSTALKORPION IS WORTH HIS TIME,” Blade yells. “COME ON, SHOW THE AUDIENCE WHAT YOU THINK OF THEM!”

Dark Steel stirs at the command and raises two blade-adorned arms into the air. He slowly curls down four of the five swords attached to each of his hands, leaving only the longest central blades extended, and then rotates on the spot to flip off the entire audience. Blade cackles from the Trainer bench as the audience howls with rage.

KRYSTALKORPION does not seem intimidated and resumes its charge. Dark Steel leaps onto its back and strikes down into the crystals, but KRYSTALKORPION looks more annoyed than hurt. Angrily, it swipes at Dark Steel with its tail, sweeping him onto the ground. Dark Steel gets to his feet again and moves in once more, this time targeting KRYSTALKORPION’s head and front claws. KRYSTALKORPION’s crystals seem to be protecting it from significant amounts of damage, but it begins to look tired. Suddenly, a loud, sharp whistle sounds from the Trainer bench, and the audience sees Pluck standing on the bench next to Khaos, hands cupped around their mouth.

“LET’S GO, KRYSTALKORPION! SHOW THEM THE DISCO BALL!”

Using the weight of its tail to gain momentum, KRYSTALKORPION begins to spin under the spotlight. Dark Steel seems distracted for a moment, and that’s when KRYSTALKORPION spins forward towards Dark Steel and swings down full-force with its tail, crushing him into the ground. Dazed and injured, Dark Steel attempts to pull himself back up but collapses and falls still. Decibel counts along with the Umpire.

“…seven, eight, nine, TEN! THAT’S A VICTORY FOR THE HERO! GIVE YOUR VICTOR A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!”

The audience cheers KRYSTALKORPION’s name as the Arena handlers arrive to empty the pit. Dark Steel is helped to his feet and staggers out of the Arena without putting up a fight. However, as a handler reaches a hand out to soothe KRYSTALKORPION by petting it under the chin, it suddenly rears forwards with an angry claw swipe, continuing to snarl and snap until the handlers anaesthetise it.

“Oh dear! It looks like KRYSTALKORPION was a little too riled up by that match. Ah well, at least it’s still victorious! Stay with us for the post-match interview, dear audience, and… hm? What’s this? It looks like Rules Lawyer Noggin’ has something to say!”

Noggin’ is indeed standing beside Umpire Sway, who nods and offers her Archaeotech vocal enhancer to him. Noggin’ clears his throat, his voice now audible to the entire audience.

“Hey, everyone, there’s something I need to bring to your attention. The Commentator for this match declared that the victor was ‘the hero’. Now, I ask you, can we really call KRYSTALKORPION a hero after seeing what it did to that poor handler? Surely, it could be argued that the true hero was Dark Steel, who bravely fought against that vicious, sparkly tyrant?”

The audience is in uproar at this. It seems like very few of them are agreeing with this take on the fight, and a large proportion of them begin chanting KRYSTALKORPION’s name again. From the Trainer bench, Khaos and Pluck are both yelling back. Umpire Sway considers Noggin’s words for a few moments and then nods.

“I hear your argument, and hereby declare that the victor of this match was indeed the ‘hero’: DARK STEEL!!!”

“WELL HELLO THERE EVERYONE! Welcome to our PALACE OF POISON!”

The crowd roars - taking in the sights of the arena set for this match. The arena is ringed by black obelisks and zuggurats, all covered in lurid green and purple slime.

“On the one side, back for another season after a strong performance last time, and I'm sure you'll agree that it's an absolute knockout! Deathbreath, entered into the ring by Chaser!”

Deathbreath sits in the corner, its pink form bouncing softly, luridly bright against the dark backdrop. The mist already seeping from the pores all over its body sizzles as it settles on the nearby ground.

“And on the other side, the reigning Ultimate Survivor Champion, the Prince of Shell, TOXTOR, entered into the arena by Nocturne!”

What some may have taken to be part of the set shifts and shakes itself with a lumbering movement. Toxtor is right on the top end of the lightweight division - a craggy shell covered in glowing green ooze, with the head poking out the front sporting a vicious beak.

The fight begins, and Deathbreath moves towards Toxtor as the toxic turtle plods towards the centre of the arena. As they come close, Deathbreath veers away, making Toxtor follow if it wants to fight. But there's a murmur from the crowd as Toxtor just sits there, waiting at the edge of the faintly hissing cloud of mist that's settling where Deathbreath was, moving just enough to make it clear that it's not out yet.

Deathbreath tries to engage a few times, moving in close until Toxtor shifts, then trying to bait it out into a chase, but the turtle does not move. Eventually, Deathbreath appears to give up with that tactic, moving in circles around Toxtor, trying to make the mist build up without approaching the larger beast. The mist hisses against the slime covering Toxtor's shell, but eagle-eyed watchers can see that its nostrils have closed up - it's holding its breath and enduring the chemical assault, though its movements are getting more sluggish.

The umpire is craning to see, looking for any sign of Toxtor succumbing to the miasma, and she's as suprised as anyone when Toxtor's head lashes out - Deathbreath had got just a little too close on one circuit, maybe trying to intensify the mist just a little too much, and now the pink flesh is slowly turning a lurid purple as the poison spreads from the wound.

Toxtor ambles away, Deathbreath trying to give chase, but losing speed with every moment, until eventually it stumbles and bounces to a halt on the arena floor, sizzling gently.

“AND THE WINNER IS…. TOXTOR!”

Toxtor obediently wanders back to the pens, the arena staff giving it a wide berth. Deathbreath is sprawled on the floor, in no position to give them any trouble as they manoeuvre it out of the arena, with Suture already rushing in to provide aid.

“HERE WE GO, FOLKS! HOPE YOU'RE HUNGRY, BECAUSE WE HAVE A DELICIOUS MATCH-UP FOR YOU! In one corner, MUUUUUUURK! And who's his opponent? It's DOUGHBAAAAAAALL!”

Murk shifts impatiently on his side of the Arena, staring intently at Doughball.

Opposite him, the little blob of dough bounces a little, blinking over at Murk with wide, adorable eyes. The audience awws.

“Gonna be honest with you, folks, I can already see where this one is goin'. Let's see if I'm proven wrong though! LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE!”

Murk approaches curiously. Leans down so his snout is level with Doughball. Doughball blinks back and bounces nervously.

Murk sniffs. Sniffs again. Doughball bounces faster and more nervously.

Murk takes one last sniff and then slowly, tentatively, nibbles at Doughball.

Doughball hops back, terror in its eyes. It rolls in a circle around Murk, then skitters off to the Arena wall, cowering in the shadows. Murk seems a little confused and looks around for the suddenly missing snack.

The Commentator laughs. “For those of you who can't see it, Doughball is in fact not moving! …seven, eight, nine, ten, THAT'S THE GAME! Someone get that poor little thing out of here and fix up that bite mark! Give a round of applause for the victor, MURK!”

There's hype about this one. Bulwark, last Season's Champion, is being challenged by a Gladiator. A Gladiator! What a fool. What an idiot. What's her name? Oh, right. BULWARK IS AWESOME. What was her name again? Omelette? BULWARK! BULWARK! Oh. Omega. That's less fun than Omelette…

Bulwark is huge and armoured. Resembling something like a cross between a tortoise and a crab, with a huge wall as its front. Its back is thick defensive wall, and its front arms are spiked all along the top with rotting, barnacle-encrusted wooden stakes. Its face is essentially a cliff wall, except it has limpets for eyebrows. Heaped on its back are thick concrete tetrapods, each of which must weigh at least half a tonne, and there is a similar one attached to the end of its tail. Its signature move - other than crushing Monsters by headbutting them to the floor - is swinging its tail in a devastating blow that leaves craters in the Arena floor.

On the top of its head is a lighthouse.

“The mighty Monster that needs no introduction - our Champion Network's Choice BULWARK!”

The crowd goes mad. The only other time Bulwark faced a human, rumour says they were finding smooshed pieces of him tangled in the pit's perimeter netting for weeks.

Through another door, Omega enters. She's carrying a tall spear, and has a sword at her waist. But what the audience notices is how incredible she looks. Her matte-black suit, with silver-white trim, is nothing short of imposing. She has a dashing asymmetric cape, and the bold white omega symbols on the costume are eye-catching statements. Not to mention her eyes - at a distance, the finesse is lost, but in the spotlight her eyes are chips of ice, highlighted by strong black flicked lines. There are two emblems on her clothes. One says TTI, and the other is the logo of MAX TASTE'S MONSTER HOUSE. Omega is also wearing a harness, strapped over her body, with varying hooks and lines with which to anchor and pull herself around the Arena.

The commentator's introduction of Omega is nearly drowned out by screams and boos - and, at least in the lower stalls, gasps of admiration. “Victor of a few matches against Monsters, but never a Champion, and never one as big as this! How do we rate her chances, folks?” The commentator laughs. “COMMENCE.”

Bulwark stamps slowly towards Omega. The ground shakes.

Omega circles the moist behemoth. Bulwark tries to hit her a few times, but she easily outruns it. Bulwark is forced to change direction every few seconds to trudge after her again. But others have tried this tactic - Bulwark just doesn't tire.

“How long will it take her to collapse of exhaustion?” asks the Commentator. “We're taking new bets, folks! Head on down to THE NETWORK'S official booking stand in the main atrium!”

Omega darts in to Bulwark. Slow, Bulwark can't turn in time to prevent her from taking a slash at a hindleg. The spear leaves a narrow gouge in the mottled, thick, wood-like skin.

Omega manages a dozen more attacks like this. A few large barnacles are chipped off, causing the audience amusement. Bulwark, though, is not slowed down by the spear marks. More than once, it nearly crushes the spindly human at its feet. Omega is saved only by the speed and dexterity the harness lends her.

Suddenly, Bulwark roars, and finds a new lease of energy. It's clearly furious with this black, gleaming, bouncy nuisance. Head lowered and pincers out either side, it charges. Omega tries to dart to one side, but the pincers form an effective trap. The studded rotting wooden spikes smash her against the Arena wall. The crowd 'aaah's. At least this time the Gladiator is smooshed against the pit wall. It'll be easier for maintenance to clean up.

Omega crumples to the floor, armour somehow dented, but holding together.

She moves! There's only one way out, and that's the narrow space under Bulwark itself.

There's a complicated moment where Omega dives forwards and the pincers come down too late. They leave dents in the pit wall. Omega disappears under Bulwark, Bulwark's sides tremble, something flares under its belly, and Bulwark screams and flails. Like a landslide, the huge Monster topples face-forwards. Sand shoots upwards in sheets…

…and Omega emerges out of the cloud. She scrambles to the side of the Arena as the countdown begins.

“Ten! Well… er… well, folks, that's Bulwark - Bulwark out. Your VICTOR is… OMEGA!” There's a pause, and static like someone has withdrawn from a microphone and forgotten to turn it off. Then a quieter, muttered, “Fuck me.”

“OMEGA! OMEGA! OMEGA! OMEGA!”

Omega looks as though she can barely hear the chanting. She drags herself off the sand and up the wall, and pauses to raise her hand at the crowd, palm out.

There's a hush. “You see!” Omega declares, and coughs. “A Gladiator can best a Champion. Ask yourselves-” cough, choke “- do I deserve a place in the Championships? I've shown… I've shown… that a Gladiator can be just as monstrous as a Monster itself.”

True, her voice doesn't carry very far. But it reaches the lowest stands of spectators, who shout it to the stalls above them, who shout it on. The cry goes up and up, until the whole Arena echoes her words.

Medics try to escort her out, but she pushes herself stubbornly off the wall and shoves past them. They scurry after her anxiously as she stumbles out of the Arena.

Bulwark lies in its crater, dripping.

“ALL RIGHT FOLKS, we've sure got a treat for you today! Two gorgeous monsters, ready to duke it out for your entertainment!”

The arena floor is banked like a velodrome, making the perfect setting for the hot pink motorcycle that zooms into the arena, weaving through the pillars and arches set up as obstacles.

“Isn't it a beaut? Give it up for NYOOMINATOR, folks! Not a chip on that paintwork, but that's what you'd expect from an untried monster, don't you think? We'll see if FOOTSIE can do anything about that…”

The giant, 18-foot sock lumbers into the arena, looking around at the crowd with its mismatched button eyes.

A massed “Aaaw!” goes up from the stands.

“Now then, the moment you've all been waiting for, so I'll put a sock in it and let these two step on the gas! THREE, TWO, ONE…LET BATTLE COMMENCE!”

Nyoominator immediately speeds off, zipping around the arena. Footsie begins by lumbering after it, but realises it's far too slow as the motorbike laps it for the third time. The huge sock settles for standing in the middle of the arena, twisting slowly around to watch the pink blur go by.

“Oh, that's a smart move from Nyoominator. Not getting in too close, but it'll have Footsie tied up in knots in a minute if it keeps this up! And it looks like it's lining up for a real attack, too! Nyoominator might have this one in the bag, folks!”

Nyoominator pulls out to the rim of the arena, does a wheelie, and then reverses, full-speed, down the incline towards the waiting Footsie.

The crowd gasp.

Footsie opens its socky arms wide, as if to embrace the motorbike - which crashes into it full-pelt. Both monsters skid halfway across the arena before fetching up against a pillar. Sparks fly from Nyoominator, and several of Footsie's threads catch fire.

It rears up, flailing, and throws itself forward over Nyoominator.

There's struggling from within the smouldering, socky folds of Footsie's body, but no sign of Nyoominator emerging. Eventually, the struggling slows, and stops. Footsie raises the stricken motorbike triumphantly, then slams it to the ground, before collapsing itself, torn and smoking.

“My goodness, wasn't that a wild ride? Definitely one of the closest fights we've seen so far this season! Wait, what's that? Footsie's not done? Oh, this could get ugly…”

The sock has indeed lashed feebly out at the arena staff attempting to inject it with Xenon. Its trainer, wrapped in a blue blanket that matches his monster, runs out to corral Footsie away. Meanwhile, Nyoominator is wheeled gently away.

“…now the Professor, of course, we all know as the trainer of Wreckatar, last year's Lightweight Champion, nonetheless, but how they fell from grace. Punched another competitor in the face in the middle of a League Conference. Claims tensions were running high but I've seen that competitor - who would prefer to remain nameless - and that bruising stayed with them for weeks. Etiquette, folks, you've got to respect it. Anyway, here we have the Professor, they're… what's that they're doing? Trying to climb out of the Arena? Well, no respect for their peers, no respect for the sport. It's disappointing, isn't it folks, that some people just don't want to follow the rules everyone else is happy to follow? Oh don't shake your fist at me, Prof, you got yourself into this mess. Now pick up a sword and fight Annihilatron like a- oh… oh that's got to… see, folks, this is why you keep your eyes on your opponent. Is that… yes, that's four separate pieces Annihilatron's cut them into. That's a solid win for Annihilatron, and an end to what could have been a promising Gladiatorial career for a disgraced trainer. What will happen to Wreckatar? Who can say?…”

The lights are up for this match, and the Arena floor has been smoothed down and covered with multicoloured sand. Since watching a human fight rarely features as many special moves as watching a Monster fight, the stalls empty slightly; many see this battle as an interlude in which to grab food. Still, there's a good audience for a Monster this unusual.

The commentator begins.

“Aaaand, a break from League matches for you all with a Gladiatorial battle. We're sure in for entertainment with this showstopper Monster straight out of the Progress and Steeple Beetle Circus!”

A tall, rounded tent, large enough to fit more than a few people inside, stomps through one of the Arena entrances. It stands on peg legs, and the eyes on its roof swivel enthusiastically. They project circles of colour. The audience whoops.

“It's looking, ah, a little wet this evening, but I'm sure it'll give us a HOT HOT HOT performance!”

The canvas-and-pole Monster, indeed, has taken a soaking. The door flaps drip. A banner on its roof sags damply. It's possible to read, in running paint, PPOGPESS & SIEEPLE BEEILE CIRC_S!

“Aaaaand here's the daring human opponent, here with an axe and some courage to give us an act to remember!”

A man strides into the Arena from an opposite door. He wears a well-fitting, quality suit of armour, and wields a large axe.

“The question is: will our Gladiator turn out to be a STRONGMAN, or the CIRCUS CLOWN? Well, folks, hold your breath and BLOW. YOUR. TOPS. for Strike versus THE TENT. Commence!”

The entrance doors slam shut.

Strike moves warily. His axe is lowered, and he approaches slowly. THE TENT opens and closes its door flaps, revealing a somehow hungry-looking interior. Its lamp-eyes continue to shine brightly.

Strike starts to circle, and THE TENT waddles towards him, shuffling its poles to move. Suddenly, Strike lunges, fast, with his axe, slices a canvas panel of THE TENT, and tries to run.

With shocking speed, THE TENT pounces. Strike has no chance of outrunning it. THE TENT's door-flap mouth engulfs him and snaps shut. Those seated closest can hear screaming and … zapping? White light crackles inside THE TENT.

There's a count of ten. “Victory to THE TENT. Now that's what I call a SHOW!”

However, cheers turn to gasps as it becomes evident that THE TENT is not going to spit out Strike. Its eyes are swivelling ecstatically, as it does what can only be described as munching. At the other side of the Arena wall, its owner Pennythrift Steeple waves and shouts at it.

Monster handlers dash out of the nearest pit door with xenon at the ready. After some awkward seconds, THE TENT is anaesthetised, and crumples. Strike rolls out, and both are carried off.

“THIS. IS. UMBAAAAAAA!!” the Umpire-slash-commentator for the fight, the legendarily excitable Crackle, announces, “WELCOME BACK TO THE ARENA, FOLKS, I am OVERJOYED to be presenting this HIGHLY IMPORTANT first League match for two TALENTED Competitors: we're seeing the first face-off between trainers PARADIIIIGM AAAAAND ZEEENIIIIITTHHH!!! Zenith is old hat to the Arena, but we're told that they've back with a vengeance - we'll see how well that vengeance holds up against newer hand Paradigm, but enough about the trainers, I know what you're here for: let's MEET THE MONSTERS!!!”

The lights swing down and are reflected back immediately before the operators dim them on a shiny humanoid figure in the Arena. “GREY, Monster Fans, is not all she appears: she may LOOK like a robot but we are RELIABLY INFORMED by Paradigm that she consists of many MICROSCOPIC ROBOTS that work together as one organism. The rules are a bit hazy AS WE KNOW about Hive Minds, so remember that if I CAN'T SEE IT MOVING, IT AIN'T MOVING!”

Grey stands motionless, her eyes fixed on the other side of the Arena where there's a rumbling, before the ground cracks open and out jumps an enormous dark red winged beast, with shadows rolling off it. She hooks onto the bottom of the central box of Arena, hanging low down, obscuring some of the lights and casting her shadow down onto the stand.

“Ah, yes, Your Worst Nightmare - is it just me or has she GROWN a bit since last Season? Still terrifying, still want to watch out for those claws, and that vision-obscuring shadow she's bringing with her. She's giving me the creeps just looking at her, isn't she FANTASTIC?”

The crowd cheers its approval, though the sound is distinctly quieter coming from the direction currently shrouded by Nightmare's shadow.

“The rules are AS EVER SIMPLE: two Monsters enter, one leave VICTORIOUS. LET BATTLE COMMENCE!!”

For a few moments, nothing happens. Grey stands motionless, while Your Worst Nightmare hangs from the central box of the Arena. Then, as the crowds go quiet, Grey looks up. Your Worst Nightmare also looks up, and then down, before focussing its eyes on Grey and screeching in rage. It leaps from the central box and lands on the ground with an almighty CRACK, the stone of the Arena floor fracturing slightly with the force. Grey tracks the winged beast down, still not moving anything but her head, it too seeming to be a little aggravated, though obviously no emotion shows on its face.

That's when Your Worst Nightmare howls, and a vortex of dark glowing red light bursts from it. Grey reacts immediately, more animated than she's been the entire fight, and dodges out of the way as the ground where she was stood moments ago, previously rock, crumbles away into dark grey sand and the fight begins proper: the crowd are enraptured as Grey moves around, just a bit faster than Your Worst Nightmare is able to pivot, with unholy blast of red death after unholy blast of red death narrowly missing Grey, but the humanoid figure still failing to get close enough to Nightmare to provide any meaningful threat.

Suddenly, as there's a lull in the crowd's noise and there's a shift in Grey's behaviour. She suddenly charges forward, directly toward Nightmare as it prepares to unleash another death blast, but this time there's a faint blue aura about Grey, and as she charges forward she gets caught in Nightmare's blast, but the red meets blue in a dissonant cacophany of opposed forces, and the red flows around instead of into Grey.

“CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!” shouts the commentator, “GREY HAS SOME SORT OF FORCEFIELD! Nightmare DID NOT see that coming!”

Nightmare certainly did not see that coming, and as Grey advances it attempts to backpedal, but Grey grabs it by the wing, and its fists start flying. The pair descend into an all out brawl, with wings and claws and fists flying, complete with more of Nightmare's Death Blasts that are once again reflected off of Grey, until:

“POW! That looks like it hurt!”

Nightmares topples backward after a particularly sharp uppercut from Grey, and slams into the ground. The Arena floor, crumbling away from the energy blasts, sags to support the winged beast's weight, and Grey, briefly motionless, suddenly runs over to stand atop the body as the crowd counts down: GREY WINS.

“PEOPLE OF BASTION! ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA FANS! DEFENDERS OF LIGHT AND CRUSADERS OF DARKNESS,” the voice of commentator Trend booms out across the Arena, where the fans in the stands have divided themselves into two factions: harsh dark colours spread out around the side of the Arena covered in banners that read “HEAVY METAL” and “DARKNESS SHALL RISE” and other similarly ominous phrases, met by a bright contrast to a swathe of fluffy and colourful fans, dressed in woolly costumes with banners reading anything from “LIGHT SHALL PREVAIL” to “RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE”. Trend continues, “THIS DOUBLE TEAM LEAGUE MATCH WILL PIT THE MECHANICAL MACHINATIONS OF HEAVY METAL AGAINST THE STALWART DEFENDERS OF TRUTH AND LIGHT THAT ARE TEAM LOOM!”

The crowds cheer, and there's a bright light as Team Loom's monsters enter - Footsie, an eighteen foot tall pale blue sock puppet with large red button eyes (one red, one black) and a little felt tongue sticking out of its mouth, seems to just emerge from the ground, supported by the bouncy sheep MonoChrome, hopping around its team-mate. The Light crowds cheer and the Darkness crowds boo.

“Yes, on Team Loom we have the infallible Footsie and the incorrigible MonoChrome - these two woolly friends will stand together against anything the night can throw at them, but will it be enough to defeat the forces of darkness?”

There's a hushing murmuring over the crowd as the lights dim, and then music starts playing as entering through the Arena doors comes the infamous Dark Steel and the terrifying Mechagraviton. The bladed, dark metal robot swaggers in to its theme as Mechagraviton the mechanical dragon floats along the ground, glowering at anyone who looks at it funny. The crowd cheers and hisses with equal enthusiasm as Trend continues.

“Dark Steel and Mechagraviton - two forces of hate and destruction, just look at their faces: they mean business, and they mean desolation. First they intend to take the Arena, then after that the world will fall! Only two stand in their way, but who will win? This is Light versus Dark, Team Loom versus Heavy Metal: LET BATTLE COMMENCE!!!”

The lights come on as the battle begins, and immediately Heavy Metal make their move. There's a brief skirmish to the side with MonoChrome as the sheep charges at Mechagraviton, but the attack is deflected, with Mechagraviton slamming them around with their gravitational field. Dark Steel flanks around to form up with the metal dragon, Footsie's enormous mouth grabs him by the leg. Dark Steel shakes the woolly puppet off with some difficulty, but Footsie's grip on the sharp metal doesn't remain for long as it slices through.

“What's this?” Trend calls over the noise, “Looks like HEAVY METAL are forming up for a COMBO ATTACK?!”

Indeed, Dark Steel crouches on the ground, as Mechagraviton slams MonoChrome's attack away again, and the audience gasps in awe as Mechagraviton's gravity field levitates Dark Steel into the air. Concentrating, Mechagraviton leaves itself open to attack, and Footsie, having somehow moved closer, smacks Mechagraviton on the head. It loses concentration, but Dark Steel is already far enough up that it doesn't matter.

“DARKNESS FALLS!!” shouts Trend, as Dark Steel comes charging out of the sky, one of its dark blades in hand, and connects hard with MonoChrome. The sheep lets out a bleat of surprise and then falls to the ground. The crowd cheers and Trend continues, “That's an EARLY BLOW to TEAM LOOM there, but a DEVASTATING COMBO ATTACK! Malbec is not going to be happy about that, but WHO KNEW that the forces of darkness were so coordinated? Now what- wait, what? Where did FOOTSIE get a Meltinator from?!”

Eyes turn to the Arena, where in the distraction of the DARKNESS FALLS combo, nobody seems to be able to answer exactly where the giant sock puppet acquired a dangerous, brightly glowing piece of Archaeotech. Trembling, it waves the weapon around the Arena, fans in the closer rows who know what that thing can do ducking just in case, before it rounds on Mechagraviton. Mechagraviton, sensing danger, makes to dodge out of the way, but the sock puppet, shaking now, fires the Meltinator and a beam of lightning slams into Mechagraviton's body, before a bright and hot electrical plasma surges down the connection and into Mechagraviton's circuitry.

There's shock from the Darkness fans and jubilation from the Light fans as Mechagraviton comes to a shuddering crash to the ground, dust rising around its sparking form. “That's a strong blow from Team Loom - Meltinators are of course legal in Arena fights, folks, so the question is: HOW WILL DARK STEEL RESPOND?”

Dark Steel, it transpires, responds with force. It turns on Footsie, its blank expressionless face giving away no emotion as it unsheathes a sword and turns on the sock puppet. Footsie draws back for another Meltinator blast, but Dark Steel is faster and with a blow to the mouth (hand??) of Footsie knocks the weapon that wrecked its teammate to the floor. Now with the playing field evened, it becomes the sort of battle of attrition that Monster fans love: Footsie grabs left and right, being blocked and dodged by Dark Steel's swords. Wool is cut and goes flying, though Footsie also gets the advantage by grabbing Dark Steel's (comparatively) small limbs and shaking the robot, stunning it.

Eventually, though, it's Steel that gains the advantage: Footsie, growing slower as the battle continues, dodges a blow from Steel's sword a second too late, and Dark Steel presses the advantage, relentlessly slashing away at Footsie until the Monster yields and collapses to the ground in a pile of frayed threads.

Ten seconds later, Trend calls out, “FOOTSIE IS DOWN, MONOCHROME IS DOWN, IT LOOKS LIKE DARKNESS PREVAILS: HEAVY METAL WINS!!!”

As the crowd cheers, Dark Steel turns around and rushes over to the fallen Mechagraviton, lifting its ally's head up to check if it's okay. The circuits spark but Mechagraviton flickers to life, looking up at Dark Steel and bopping him on the hand.

Crowds are usually pretty thin for a gladiatorial fight, but Giant Block of Wood has enough hardcore fans to fill out enough of the seats for a good roar from the stands to echo around the arena as the lights go up.

“For your entertainment tonight, man versus monster! I hope your on the edges of your seats, folks, because here we go! Introducing: THE INERTIANATOR!”

A spotlight pans across the giant block of wood sitting dead-centre of the raked sand floor.

“And, the challenger! STRIKE!”

The gladiator strides confidently into the arena, axe slung across his shoulders. He glances quickly around, taking in the scene - simple arena setup; his opponent ahead of him, the spectators yelling from the stands.

He waves.

“Here we go, folks! Three, two, one: commence!”

Strike leaps; axe flying. It bites into the top of the Giant Block of Wood, which shudders under the blow. Chips of wood fly off. Strike swings again.

The Inertiator doesn't move.

The crowd sigh. Watching a man hack at a giant block of wood with an axe isn't particularly riveting for fans of bloody combat.

The clock ticks down.

“CEASE!”

An air of anticlimax hovers over the whole arena.

“Trainers, Fans, are you ready for another BRUTAL match??” shouts Umpire Mangle. “We’ve got a tough couple of competitors for you this afternoon, so settle in for a PROPER SLUGFEST! It’s my honour to present to you that maritime menace, fresh from its run-in with Gladiator Omega and no doubt harbouring some resentment… give it up for BULWAAAAAAARK! Aaaaaaaand on the other side, an unholy temple ready to ruin its opponent! Let’s give a warm welcome to BASILICAAAAAAAAA!”

Bulwark, a hulking mass of sea defences, stirs at the sound of applause. The lighthouse-like structure built into its head rotates slowly, and a glaring beam of light sweeps over the audience stands before Bulwark’s attention shifts to its challenger in the pit. Compared to Bulwark’s rough concrete defences, Basilica almost looks pretty. A network of stone arches, pillars and doorways spreads across the quintaped’s back, giving her the appearance of a vast, living temple. The Arena designers seem to have been inspired by the match-up; a large circle of stone columns and concrete walls has been built into the centre of the pit between the two Monsters, resembling their respective defences.

“Well, these two sure look like they can take a beating! But you know the rules: once one of ‘em stays down for ten seconds, that’s the game! Let’s get started, shall we? LET. BATTLE. COMMEEEEEEEENCE!”

There’s a cacophonous rumble as the pair begin moving towards each other, slowly but menacingly. Crashing through the pillars in the centre, they lock together; Bulwark seems to have the advantage in the contest of strength and despite Basilica’s best attempts to resist, she begins to slide back into a concrete wall. However, she suddenly spins her body to the side and slams it against the ground, knocking Bulwark off-balance with the shock wave. Basilica moves back in and once again, the Monsters crash together with a harsh screech of grinding stone.

This time, Bulwark attempts to drive one of its enormous, concrete-armoured arms down onto Basilica’s back, but although several chips of stone are dislodged by the attack, she looks mostly unhurt. Basilica, having seen the success of her previous body slam, decides to try it again. Bulwark is prepared for it this time, though, and as Basilica rises up it goes for a low swipe that catches one of her five legs. Basilica topples to the side, completely demolishing a fifth of the circle as she falls and sending rubble flying in all directions.

The next minute or so is brutal to watch. Bulwark mercilessly hammers away at Basilica, who does her best to slam her body against her opponent whenever there’s an opening. Both tolerate the fierce attacks surprisingly well, but Basilica’s movements are gradually beginning to slow until with a deafening crash, she sinks into the floor and stops moving. Mangle starts the count.

“…AND THAT'S TEN SECONDS! GIVE IT UP FOR YOUR VICTOR: BULWAAAAAAARK!”

“MONSTER FANS, ARE YOU READY? Remember Dozer from last Season? It's back, and hopefully this time, it's going to stay awake! Give it a hand, folks!”

There's raucous laughter as Dozer is revealed, having been hidden underneath a large, fluffy blanket at the edge of the Arena.

“And its challenger, one half of Team Legit, hoping to restore her reputation… Longbow!!”

The Arena lights swing down and settle on an empty spot in the pit. They sweep from side to side, and the audience mutters in confusion. The other half of the Arena is… completely empty.

“Howdy, folks!” calls High Noon from the Trainer bench. “Sorry, was runnin' a tad late. Just to let ya know, we forfeit the match. Hope that's not too much of a problem!”

“You… forfeit? What, you mean you're not entering Longbow for this match?” asks the Umpire.

“Yeah, she's at home. 'pologies, folks! Had other stuff to do.”

“I… I see. Well. Please bear with us, dear audience. No, don't throw your drinks at him. We'll sort this.”

There's a fifteen minute interval, during which several Network Executives can be seen frantically running between stands. Dozer settles down in the Arena, looking sleepy. At the end of it, the Umpire stands and attracts the attention of the crowd.

“Thank you for your patience–it will be rewarded, I assure you! Longbow may have forfeited, but we've found an extra-special replacement for Dozer to face off against! Recently acquired by the Network after its Trainer retired, it's my pleasure to reintroduce you to… GNOSIS!”

A door in the wall of the Arena opens and a Monster stalks in. It's a small, deep purple, panther-like thing, and as it slinks across the pit underneath the glaring lights, its leathery skin shimmers like spilled oil. It curls in place opposite Dozer and locks eyes with its opponent… eerie, milky-white eyes that almost seem to glow in the light.

“Then let the battle commence in 3… 2… 1… FIGHT!”

Gnosis slinks forwards a few paces and looks Dozer up and down. Dozer does not look interested in fighting. True to its reputation, it has curled up on the floor and is snoring lightly. The audience jeers, and Gnosis takes another step forwards.

Something in the air shifts. A sound almost like a whisper passes across the Arena. The laughter of the audience fades. Gnosis's eyes are definitely glowing now.

As are Dozer's.

Dozer's eyes are open and glowing and furious.

The lizard-like Monster climbs to its feet and snarls. The audience is silent now, watching in awe as Dozer approaches its opponent, every heavy step kicking up dust and leaving crater-like imprints in the pit.

Gnosis blinks once, and Dozer breaks into a run.

The fight is horrifying to watch. Dozer seems driven by sheer rage, and shows no regard for its own safety as it charges Gnosis over and over again. The smaller Monster does what it can to keep a distance, adopting a strategy of repeatedly baiting Dozer into running into the Arena walls. Not once does it move in to strike Dozer, even when it's dazed from the impact of hitting the Arena reinforcements. It almost seems like it's toying with it.

The audience is enthralled, and when Dozer eventually runs out of energy and collapses on the ground, there's a great cry of sympathy. Gnosis circles its opponent as the Umpire counts to ten, and when it's announced as the victor, it simply sits beside Dozer's giant head and waits patiently for the handlers to entire the pit.

It's hard to miss the shudder of the handlers who approach Gnosis to escort it out, or the faint look of amusement in the Monster's far-too-intelligent eyes.

“Friends of the Network, welcome to the Arena! I'm so excited to be your Commentator today, and- HOLY HELL WHAT IS THAT THING?”

The lights illuminate a muscular, humanoid figure dressed in a dirty tank top and shorts. He almost looks like a humans, except most humans around the Arena would respond to bright lights by shielding their eyes. This thing just stares into the distance, occasionally making stabbing motions with the bloodstained carving knife clutched in his hand.

“Uh, my associates tell me that this is Maximus, trained by Gintrap! Nice to… um. Nice to meet you, Maximus.”

Maximus stabs the air again and the Commentator laughs nervously.

“…and his opponent, the… THE TENT? Is that a… yeah, it's an actual, literal tent isn't it? Great. I love Monsters.”

THE TENT, which does indeed appear to be an actual, literal tent, is fixed on the other side of the Arena. A small group of Fans start chanting the phrase “BEETLE CIRCUS” with immense passion as the Arena lights settle on THE TENT.

“Alrighty then. Not how I expected my first match to go. Still pretty excited, don't worry. Shall we get started then? Let the battle COMMENCE!”

THE TENT does not move. Maximus does, lurching forwards with motions that are just a little too inhuman to not be unsettling. The Commentator's shudder is audible.

The lights decorating THE TENT spin and flash enticingly. Maximus stares at them, possibly considering his options. And then he lunges to the side of THE TENT's entrance, slashing into the canvas with his knife.

Everything happens very quickly after that. THE TENT moves with impressive speed, pouncing on Maximus and swallowing him whole. The tent flap closes and THE TENT's colours flash red and yellow as it attempts to crush Maximus inside it.

Inside, Maximus appears to be struggling. He thrashes against the canvas, his knife carving wide gashes into THE TENT. The pair tussle for a while, before Maximus opens a gap wide enough to crawl out of. He staggers out of THE TENT, battered and weak, then falls to his knees and topples sideways. His knife arm twitches once, then falls still.

THE TENT also looks hurt, but manages to drag its tattered canvas to safety.

“That's… yeah, ten seconds. THE TENT wins, I guess. Holy shit. Are fights always that horrific when you're commentating? Thanks for joining me folks. Try not to have nightmares.”

As the Monsters are pulled from the ring, Pennythrift Steeple cheers from the Trainer bench.

“If you want to see more of THE TENT in action, come on down to the Progress and Steeple Beetle Circus! Hope to see you there!”

“Here we go, folks,” calls Umpire Mangle. “Getcha selves ready for another NO HOLDS BARRED BRAWL! Let's see what we've got in the Arena this time, shall we?”

A lion with a unnerving mane of tentacles paces in a circle on one side of the Arena. On the other, a fluffy, three-eyed sheep hops up and down expectantly.

“Yup, we've got the tenta-coolest Monster around: MEEEEEERLE! And heading for the Championship title–or should that be Champion-sheep?–it's MONOCHROOOOOOME! Let the battle… COMMENCE!”

Merle moves first, quickly circling his opponent and preparing an attack. His jaws open, his tentacles draw back, and he lunges forwards head-first into MonoChrome's fluff. The audience cheers, and then…

MonoChrome's body fades away, the fluff dissipating into gas as soon as Merle's teeth sink into it. Merle leaps backwards, coughing and sneezing as MonoChrome's secondary form is revealed to the audience. A cloud of thick, white gas drifts around a floating, horned skull, two of its three eyes now nothing more than empty sockets. However, the third eye is still intact, and it now focuses on Merle with terrifying, intense rage.

With a roar, MonoChrome sweeps forward, charging Merle with its sharp skeletal horns. Merle rolls out of the way of the first charge, but his attention suddenly shifts to the side and he is unable to dodge the second attack. The horns don't quite pierce Merle's rubbery skin, but it is clear that Merle is taking damage. From the Trainer bench, Seer leans forward looking worried.

Merle lashes out with his tentacles but while this does appear to damage MonoChrome, it also wafts some of the white gas towards Merle's head. He coughs again, and MonoChrome takes the chance to charge once more. This time, its horns pin Merle to the ground and he struggles as he is completely overwhelmed by the gas cloud. The vague outline of his form visible through the gas falls still.

“…four, five, six… I think this is it for Merle! Eight, nine… TEN! MONOCHROME WINS!”

As soon as the victor is called, Seer rushes into the Arena with the handling team to extract Merle. MonoChrome still looks angry and has to be subdued, after which it slowly returns to its original fluffy form.

“Well that was a fantastic fight, wasn't it! And now, while we get that cleared up, we have a special surprise for you all. Feast your eyes on a tournament of technology, a maze of mechanisms! Welcome to Money Pit! With your hosts, ToDo List and Trend.”

The show launches right into the hype, with ToDo List and Trend trading quips as they introduce the format, and the contestants. Wingnut, Floors, Boat, Steakknife, and Brick will be running through a challenging maze of obstacles (being set up as the introduction continues) hunting for archeotech devices which have been hidden throughout. Once their time is up, any which are still in the maze will be auctioned off to the highest bidder. And finally, they get to test their winnings in front of the adoring public!

The contestants pour into the maze, each with their own entrance. Wingnut and Boat each quickly spot one of the more obvious pieces, but Boat doesn't even make it to the testing as plate-shaped thing he's gathered shorts out and explodes.

“No worries folks, we'll let the medics in once the time is up!”

Brick is charging through the maze, trying to get as deep as possible on the assumption that the best things will be there. Steakknife is methodically checking every nook and hiding place, and there's applause when she finally emerges from a tunnel clutching a pair of silver boots. Floors is clearly the most athletic of the bunch, and levers themself up to a higher vantage point - then makes a beeline for the shiny thing they spotted from above.

As the timer ticks down, Wingnut has an armful of pieces, but they all look a little ragged around the edges. Steakknife has their boots, and has also managed to add a small lamp to the collection. Floors has something which could either be a bowl or a helmet, and Brick is still charging for the centre. With the seconds slipping away, Brick frantically searches around himself, looking for the treasure that must be there, and the crowd cheers as he dives onto a pipe-shaped object, grasping it in the final second.

The contestants emerge from the maze - Boat on a stretcher, which quietly disappears into the backstage of the arena, and line up for the auction. There are a couple of items left - a humming box, and a smooth, round orb. Bidding is fierce, with Cart acting as auctioneer, and each goes for somewhere around 50R.

And then the testing begins. First up is Floors, who loads their bowl up with random objects, and hits a button on the side. The objects instantly dissolve into a strange black goop, and their face goes white as they realise how close they were to trying the helmet idea first. Next they try the orb they bid for, but can't figure out how to activate it. Frustrated, they throw it over their shoulder, and it instantly expands into a serviceable (though not all that comfortable) chair. They kick it in frustration, instantly regretting their purchase, and storming off backstage with their “winnings”.

The rest of the testing is pretty similar - most of the “prizes” are either non-functional, actively dangerous to the user more than the target, or just strange gimmicks that no-one would ever actually want (the box will display an X if anything but a fish is placed within it, at which point it displays a nice green tick - and that one took some experimenting!). The only half decent piece of the whole bunch seems to be the tube found by Brick - it's some kind of adjustable torch, and the beam can be made tight enough to act as a firestarter. It's just a shame that he discovered this by accidentally focussing the beam on his hair.

Overall though, the show is a success, and goes down well with the fans - and by the time it's over, the next fight is ready to begin.

“FAAAAAANS OF THE AARENAAAA!!!!” bellows the commentator in their supernaturally boosted voice across the Arena, “TONIGHT WE BRING YOU AN EXTRAORDINARY FIGHT BETWEEN TWO AGED FOES: CUBOID AND SPHERICAL!!!”

The lights illuminate an Arena floor where an enormous ramp has been set up, at the top of which stands legendary Rules Lawyer turned Trainer, Canon, next to an enormous block of wood. “Lying down”, as ever, if you can call it that (which the Giant Block of Wood fans do), it sits with a small wooden stop holding it at the top of the ramp.

“IN THE RAMP CORNER,” continues the commentator, “WITH A GRAND TOTAL OF ZERO WINS TO HER NAME, WE HAVE THE ONE AND ONLY - please let it be the one and only - QUEEN OF FUTILITY: THE INTERTIANATOR!!!!”

Canon can be seen to be shouting something which the crowd echoes: “THAT'S GIANT BLOCK OF WOOD!!!” followed by ripples of laughter, and a screaming fanbase shouting variations on “WE LOVE YOU GIANT BLOCK OF WOOD!!!”

“AND CHALLENGING THIS SPECIMEN OF TIMBER? WE HAVE, TRAINED BY MAXIMUM TASTE OF MAX TASTE'S MONSTER HOUSE, THE ADORABLE AND DELICIOUS PIPSQUEAK: DOUUUUGHHBBAAAALLLLL!!!!”

The lights focus on a small blob that could have gone unnoticed compared to the size of the ramp and the block of wood resting on it, but as they do it gazes into them and its eyes sparkle with the lights. The crowd melts into adoration, an almighty “awwww” sweeping through them.

“OKAY OKAY, IT IS ADORABLE ISN'T IT? BUT LET'S SEE HOW IT FIGHTS! Your Umpire is Spillage, now LET. BATTLE. COMMENCE!!!”

A trumpet sounds, and the trainer Canon jumps out of the Arena, pulling the stop that was keeping Giant Block of Wood from moving down the ramp out. Freed from its constraints, Giant Block of Wood-

Slides… slowly… down… the… ramp.

Doughball bounces up and down expectantly as Giant Block of Wood makes slow slow progress down the ramp. Its… er… front, directed toward Doughball. The tension mounts as the lumber edges closer and closer, Doughball's eyes widening until just at the last moment it… moves a short distance out of the way.

Giant Block of Wood comes to a halt at the bottom of the ramp, much to the delight of the crowds. Its principle means of attack thwarted, Doughball gives an almighty bounce and hops on top of Wood. Its eyes smiling, it hops up and down as the crowd counts down: “8… 9… 10!”

“GIANT BLOCK OF WOOD, I mean, er, INERTIANATOR, IS OUT!!!” shouts the Umpire, “DOUGHBALL WINS!!!”

The crowd which would normally roar with approval or disdain holds its breath. With Canon in the Arena, everyone knows this isn't over yet.

“Good people of Bastion!” shouts the voice of Canon, also amplified, as a small figure emerges from the stands into the Arena, “And esteemed Umpire, I am afraid victory has been announced prematurely!”

The crowd “Oohs”, as Canon continues, giving an impassioned speech as to how Giant Block of Wood is clearly not down for the count on account that it's still moving: bending up and down as to help Doughball bounce - “They're playing, dear Umpire, as a cat plays with a mouse. Any moment now, I assure you, Giant Block of Wood will STRIKE and Doughball will be FLATBREAD!”

There's titillation through the crowd, including from the Umpire, and a traditional back and forth including some well placed reference to Max Taste's Monster House before eventually the traditional, “OVERRULED, Canon - DOUGHBALL IS VICTORIOUS!”

“But-”

“That's my final decision,” says Spillage, and no more needs saying. Doughball is victorious, and it's nearly impossible to leave the Arena through the south exit without encountering at least one victorious poster for Max Taste's Monster House.

“MONSTER MAYHEM LOVERS, WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU TONIGHT: A CLASSIC BATTLE BETWEEN MACHINE AND WEASEL - GEARBOX VERSUS PEPPER!!!”

The crowd goes wild as the lights come down on a sparse arena with a sandy floor. Sales of small binoculars have been up of late due to the size of these two competitors, and the glints of hundreds of pairs of lenses can be seen higher up in the stands as they focus.

“TRAINED BY SAFFRON, WE HAVE THE ADORABLE BUT FIERY-TEMPERED PEPPER: BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR AWWS, THIS LITTLE MONSTER CAN AND WILL GIVE YOU A SERIOUS CASE OF HEARTBURN!”

The small black weasel-like creature on the Arena floor, its fur speckled with grey, looks like it could be in the wrong place, but some knowing laughs from the crowd suggest otherwise before the audience's attention is drawn to the metal box with legs swaying from side to side on the other side of the Arena.

“AAAAAAND GEARBOX: TRAINED BY DASHBOARD, ALL WE KNOW FOR SURE IS THAT IT'S A BOX FILLED WITH GEARS THAT WALKS AROUND, BUT IS IT MORE THAN THAT? ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA HISTORY TELLS US NOT TO BE COMPLACENT, SO LET'S FIND OUT. LET. BATTLE. COMMENCE!!!”

The fight begins: and immediately Pepper charges toward Gearbox, but instead of striking, it darts to the left, running a circle around the slow Gearbox which waddles slowly, rotating round. Pepper darts back to the right, Gearbox following anti-clockwise, its metal feet moving slowly to track the Weasel. With Gearbox distracted, Pepper lets rip with a volley of scorching spikes, but the metal box makes an effort to avoid being hit, clearly having been given some past guidance in the field of Hot Things. However, the metal plating does take a singe, which apparently is enough to aggravate the box.

Suddenly, without warning, the box springs open, turning inside out to reveal an intricasy of gears and a series of LASER CANNONS. Before Pepper has chance to react, Gearbox lets rip an enormous volley of laser blasts, each hitting Pepper square on, causing an enormous dust cloud of smoke and sand the fly up around the weasel. Blast after blast follows, the Arena floor shaking, until Gearbox stops its assault and the crowd watches expectantly.

The shadow of a weasel appears in the smoke, and Pepper advances, its fur slicked down, shining with heat, and a look of vengeance in its eyes. It moves, angrily, toward Gearbox, and then, fast as anything before the box can waddle away or close, unleashes another volley of scorching spikes at the box. This time they land true, and Gearbox falls over, its gears shaken out of order, and collapses onto the Arena floor. Ten seconds later, victory is announced for Pepper!

“PEOPLE OF BASTION, FANS OF THE ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA, PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A BATTLE OF THE MANY AGAINST THE ONE: ROLLERPEDES VS THE CAT!”

As the announcer cries out, gates open on either side of the arena to allow the Monsters in. The crowd “awws” as THE CAT emerges, a tiny tabby that looks more than a little out of place in the immense Arena. It stretches out and yawns before sitting on its rump and absently watching the other gate. The Rollerpedes emerge to a jaunty tune, acrobatically dancing into the Arena, a vast swarm of insectoids capable of rolling into perfect spheres. They form up into a immense column and deposit Morose on the trainer’s platform before rounding on THE CAT. Diamond watches from the other platform, seated in a chair with a ledger, as if totally unaware of the roaring crowd around her.

“LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!”

Rollerpedes surges towards THE CAT like chitinous tidal wave, and there are shrieks from some members of the crowd, though others smile; they know that this is no mere feline.

The tabby stares up at the insects with disinterest but, just as it looks as if the Rollerpedes are about to fall upon THE CAT, the swarm separates. THE CAT sits, head turning as the Rollerpedes roll around it. From the stands it can be seen that they have formed into geometric figures: a fantastic spirograph with THE CAT at its centre. The crowd roars and applauds for Morose’s choreography.

A colony breaks the symmetry, striking towards THE CAT from the side. In a blink, the tabby is no longer there. The Rollerpede cluster rolls across the centre of the figure and rejoins the swarm. Then THE CAT is there again. There are sounds of confusion from the crowd. It sits there lazily licking a paw. Another cluster rolls towards THE CAT.

This time there is an explosion of chitinous shrapnel, as fragments of Rollerpedes explode away from THE CAT. It sits there with one of the Rollerpedes pinned under a paw, razor sharp fangs where claws should be, pressing into the Rollerpede’s underbelly. With unnatural strength, it crushes the little bug. Its maw opens, revealing rows upon horrifying rows of claws. In a blur of fur and fangs, THE CAT dives into the heart of the swarm, eviscerating the little bugs.

The Rollerpedes scatter. Such is their coordination it is almost as if they anticipated this behaviour, spacing themselves so it is difficult for THE CAT to get to them. For a few long minutes the fight looks hideously one-sided. THE CAT shreds Rollerpedes left and right, but its initial speed begins to slow as the superior stamina of its foe becomes apparent. The Rollerpedes seem simply endless.

As THE CAT begins to tire, the Rollerpedes go on the offensive. The previously untouchable Monster is battered from all sides, as units of Rollerpedes strike against it. Some latch onto the feline, harrying it with bites and scratches. Soon THE CAT is forced into a corner by the sheer numbers of the swarm. Then, like a vengeful grasping hand, the Rollerpedes rise up and close around it.

“AND I THINK THAT’S IT FOR THE CAT… WAIT A MINUTE, WHAT’S THAT?”

Suddenly, a unusual smell fills the arena. Diamond can be seen reaching for a kerchief to cover their mouth and nose. The Rollerpedes scatter lazily from THE CAT. Their previously choreographed geometric motions break down, and they begin to bounce off each other chaotically.

Slowly and deliberately THE CAT begins to take revenge upon the insects around it. It seems exhausted but that isn’t stopping it. Malcoordinated, sedate, and clumsy - entirely unlike its usual behavioural finesse - the Rollerpedes swarm starts to roll to a stop. Various beetles rock on the floor, and the whole composition comes to a standstill. The fight is called and THE CAT is anaesthetised after it fails to respond to its trainer’s calls to stop.

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT. WHAT A SHOW. CAN WE HAVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR BOTH OF THESE MONSTERS AND THEIR TRAINERS?”

The crowd goes wild as THE CAT’s slumbering form is carried out by Diamond and Morose manages to rouse the Rollerpedes. They're visibly regaining their enthusiasm and synchronisation, and he ushers them out of The Arena.

“FANS OF ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA, WE HAVE NOT ONE BUT TWO NEW DOUBLE TEAMS. WE ALL KNOW DOZER HAS A TENDENCY OF NAPPING ON THE JOB, SO IT SEEMS LIKE THEIR TRAINER HAS FOUND ANOTHER MONSTER TO GIVE THEM A HAND: INTRODUCING DOZER AND ARMAGEDDON AS SLAP TIME!”

As the announcer finishes Dozer sloughs its way into the Arena, the tiny Armageddon crawling along besides it. The crowd laughs as Dozer’s immense head begins to dip and Armageddon reaches up and gives it a little slap on the cheek to perk the lizard up.

“FACING OFF AGAINST THEM THE MUCH LOVED DUO OF PROGRESS AND STEEPLES MARVELLOUS ROLLING BEETLES ENTER THE ARENA WITH ROLLERPEDES AND THE TENT AS BEETLE CIRCUS!”

Surprisingly only one monster seems to enter. The Tent sloughs into the Arena. Something seems like it may be wrong with it, the creature is wheezing, its mouth hanging open and its razor teeth exposed as it slowly drags itself forward.

Morose Progress and Pennythrift Steeple walk up to the Trainer’s platform on their side of the Arena. Steeple seems to bask in the adoration of the crowd while Progress stands behind him somewhat awkwardly. On the other side of the Arena well known medic Suture enters, Wonder trailing behind selling their goods to screaming fans as they make their way in.

“LETS GET READY TO BATTLE!”

Dozer and Armageddon approach the tent cautiously. Neither of these beasts seems used to making the first attack. The pair don’t seem to know what to do as the tent just stares at them, mouth hanging open as it slowly pants.

The Tent moves as if to yawn, but as it stretches up its mouth keeps getting bigger and bigger until it almost reaches as tall as Dozer’s head. Then in a wall of antennes and chiton the Rollerpedes surge out of the tent, rolling over Armageddon and even pushing the mighty Dozer away from its ally. Armageddon is quickly buried in insects, but it turns into a whirlwind of open palms and elbows to keep the swarm away on all sides. That is until The Tent descends on it. The crowd screams in horror as The Tent launches itself on Armageddon with a predatory hunger seldom seen in the Arena.

As The Tent throws Armageddon up into the air, Dozer struggles against the Rollerpedes that surround it. It makes a few half hearted bites down into the swarm, it jaw coming up beetle fragments. It raises its paws up and hisses in frustration as it gets pushed further and further from its struggling ally. In frustration Dozer roars and raises itself up on its hind legs and comes down in a body slam that rocks the entire Arena. Spectators in the stands are literally thrown from their seats, screaming as the mighty lizard comes down on its foes. Insectoid goo from the decimated Rollerpedes spills down Dozer’s belly and it wades towards Armageddon and The Tent.

Not fast enough though, The Tent finally gets a good grip on the squirming Armageddon and sinks its fangs into the nest of arms and hands. There is the crack of lightning as Armageddon spasms uncontrollably in The Tent’s Maw, blood leaking from countless wounds. Dozer lowers its head and slams into The Tent, sending it flying across the Arena, dropping a unmoving Armageddon to the floor. Dozer leans down, turning its tiny companion over with its head, the gentle lizard making a soft whining noise. The Tent rights itself and growls, black ichor dripping from its jaws a sign of its terrifying and unnatural hunger. That canvas monster’s attention still seems focussed squarely on Armageddon.

Dozer interposes itself between the two of them and roars, charging towards it. The Tent leaps screaming, sailing through the air and wrapping itself around Dozers head. Sparks fly as it repeatedly bites the giant armoured lizard’s face but with uncharacteristic vigor Dozer continues to charge until it reaches the immense concrete walls of The Arena, slamming the tent into them. Again the Arena shakes with the beast’s fury, and The Tent drops from its head, unmoving, its fabric stained with a reeking ichorous tar.

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT!” The Announcer roars as the Umpire calls the match for Slap Time. “SLAP TIME WINS! COMMISERATIONS TO BEETLE CIRCUS!” The crowd roars their appreciation to the trainers for the match.

Dozer makes its way through fragments of broken Rollerpedes to Armageddon. It reaches down and gently lifts the monster in its mouth, carrying it back over to Wonder and Suture, who quickly sets to work doctoring the fallen monster.

Meanwhile The surviving Rollerpedes form up, acrobatically dancing their way out of the Arena, much to the delight of the crowd.

“Welcome back, Friends of the Network! I'm here covering my very first Gladiatorial Battle–only my second-ever commentating gig, you know!–and I cannot wait to get started! Let's take a look at our Gladiator, shall we? It's… ANGLER!”

Angler stands under the lights, trident in one hand, net slung over the other arm. The Commentator continues as the applause dies down.

“And let's find out who our Monster is… the gate is opening… and it's… oh no. Oh no, no, no. It's… him.”

A humanoid figure shambles into the Arena and the gate closes behind him. Bloodstained clothing, vicious carving knife, vacant stare… Maximus takes his position in the Arena.

“I guess this is just my life now,” says the Commentator. “Are those really clothes? Are they just part of him? Do I even want to know? The answer is no. No, I don't. The less I know about that thing, the better. Let's let the fight begin, shall we? BEGIN!”

Angler takes a defensive position as Maximus ambles forward, knife held over his head. The pair are fairly evenly matched in terms of height, and it's odd to see two humanoids in the Arena. Maximus swings down, but Angler deflects the blow with his trident and spins it around to catch Maximus in the side. The Monster pulls back and tries to stab Angler again–this time he finds an opening and drives the blade into Angler's shoulder. The audience winces at the brutality.

Angler keeps fighting, trying to lure Maximus into a position where he can be netted. It takes time, and Angler is bleeding heavily by the end of it, but he eventually manages to swing the net over Maximus's head, pinning the Monster down. Enraged, the Monster attempts to hack through the net, but Angler stabs down with his trident, directly into Maximus's chest.

Maximus falls still and the Commentator sighs in relief once the count is over. “Nice work, Angler! Hey, is that thing bleeding or not? It's not, is it? Oh for the love of- does it even have blood? How is this thing so creepy??”

The Umpire takes the opportunity to interrupt. “ANGLER WINS!”

“Well howdy folks! Time for another double team match, and this one is going to be a doozy! One team is a firebrand and a pile of quivering slime, and the other trained Blue Lagoon and Green Genie!”

The crowd laughs, clearly they've not forgotten High Noon's shameful forfeit in the solo matches. However, it seems that they still like the team whatever their feelings about High Noon, and there's a pretty consistent stream of business at the merchandise stalls (each with a little Bullhorn branding on the awning) - just a few more posters and t-shirts being sold, while the cowboy hats sit on the shelf.

“I'm kidding of course. One the one side, we have the newly formed Team Slime, ready to ooze their way up the competition. Their team is Blue Lagoon, trained by Quake, and Green Genie, trained by Cyclops.”

They're… not the most glamorous team. Blue Lagoon is a large blob of blue slime, and Green Genie is a green furry thing which would almost be cute if it wasn't covered in a lurid green goo and occasionally bursting into flame.

“And on the other side, the team we all love to hate, with a heart of gold that they probably stole, Team Legit! Their team is Longbow, trained by High Noon, and Shrapnel, trained by Midnight.”

Longbow is a large angular construct of metal and wiring - again, not exactly a looker, but the crowd aren't looking at her. All eyes are on Shrapnel, the adorable chibi robot scurrying around Longbow's legs. And that's a good thing too, as Shrapnel is off like a shot as soon as the fight starts - with Longbow lumbering along behind. While Blue Lagoon and Green Genie are clearly working well together, Shrapnel is running rings around them and has managed to distract them both and draw Green Genie away when Longbow finally joins the fight. Team Slime try to reunite, and keep this as a double team rather than a pair of 1v1, but Longbow and Shrapnel are keeping them busy.

Unfortunately, their divide and conquer tactics are not enough - Blue Lagoon manages to score a lucky hit, which seems to cause Longbow to just fold under pressure, and Shrapnel can only hold them both off for so long, as Green Genie steadily engulfs the arena in flames, leaving few places to hide from Blue Lagoon lashing out.

“Well, there you go! Team Slime Win!”

The audience is poised on the edge of their seat, waiting for one of Team Legit's trademark meltdowns, perhaps even a rant at the new upstart team - but everyone is surprised when they stride up and greet their opponents with complements and handshakes rather than mockery and rude gestures. They're grudging complements, but hey, baby steps.

There's a bit of a cult following of Pluck over the last few days, and homemade banners for JAWS OF DEFEAT can be seen flying in the stands, as well as pictures of many-headed leopards. The stands are heaving as usual as Unfiltered begins their commentary,

“ULTIMATE MONSTER BATTLE ARENA FANS, HOLD ONTO YOUR BINOCULARS WE HAVE TWO SMALL BUT ANGRY MONSTERS IN TONIGHT!!! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A LEAGUE BATTLE YOU'LL REMEMBER AS WE HAVE THE MONSTERS OF PLUCK AND SAFFRON FIGHTING TONIGHT!!!”

The crowd cheer, and the south door opens, a cloud of smoke erupting as a leopard-shaped creature sporting many, many heads emerges, “JAWS OF DEFEAT, FOLKS, THE TERRIFYING MULTIHEADED HYDRA-LEOPARD THAT HAS GIVEN AS MANY FANS NIGHTMARES AS DREAMS - don't aww it, people! This nasty leopard can TEAR YOUR ARMS OFF and still have 10 heads left to rip the flesh from you!! But if you prefer your flesh FLAME GRILLED then we have a treat for you: coming in from the NORTH door, adjust your binoculars fooooor PEPPER!!”

The door opens and the smoke billows out, but it catches aflame moments later, and the silhoutted weasel is surrounded by burning clouds that dissipate quickly. The crowds are impressed, and Unfiltered continues, “FIRE AND RAGE MAKE UP THIS LITTLE CREATURE'S HEAD, SO DON'T BE FOOLED BY ITS APPEARANCE. Between these two Monsters you could have a pretty damn good barbecue, I won't lie, but I do NOT want to be the one on the grill! LET'S get right to it, folks, the Arena has been modified tonight with bounceboards for BOTH sides to use, so get ready to pin your eyes to the skies: TWO MONSTERS ENTER, ONE WILL LEAVE VICTORIOUS: LET BATTLE COMMENCE!!”

The two Monsters barrel into the Arena which, true to Unfiltered's word, is covered in spring pads and rocks to bounce off of. The two Monsters launch into the air, and it's Jaws of Defeat that makes the first snaps toward Pepper, but misses in the air. Pepper, now aflame, soars gracefully down to the ground and its fir bristles into scorching spines that fly through the air, only narrowly missing Jaws of Defeat!

Jaws hits the ground, its fur singed a little from proximity, and brings its heads to lock onto Pepper. It bounces off a high rock and lunges for the Weasel but Pepper gracefully darts out of the way, leaving a trail of fire behind her.

The fans ooh and aah as the two engage in a cat and mouse (leopard and weasel) game through the rocks, bouncing off the scenery and soaring through the air. Eventually, though, as the crowds start to quieten, the fight reaches a climax as another volley of scorching spikes are fired from the back of Pepper, and strike Jaws in the body. Jaws falls to the ground, howling, and the crowd howl in approval. Jaws attempts to get up, but Pepper is already on its back. The many heads snap for the weasel, but it's too late: with a satisfying bite on Jaws of Defeat's back, the leopard-hydra falls to the ground and Pepper is declared VICTORIOUS.

“So, people, now we have a heavyweight battle that promises to be all drama. It's THE HEDGEHOG versus MECHAGRAVITON! One biiiiig spiny beast against one biiiig metal dragon. The Trainers are Tatters and Crash. Are we ready for some smashing, some spiking, and some anger? Yes, yes we ARE. Your Umpire is The Howl, your commentator is Thunderstruck, and the fight can COMMENCE!”

The Hedgehog shuffles its quills and emanates hatred, whilst Mechagraviton swings its tail intently. As soon as the gated pens swing open, The Hedgehog runs for Mechagraviton with intense red eyes.

Mechagraviton fixes its gaze, and The Hedgehog flips up a couple of metres into the air. Both Monsters bellow, one furious, the other enraged. Mechagraviton attacks the floating Hedgehog, which spins in the air and lashes out. Metal jaws crush huge spines.

“The Hedgehog is fixed in place in the air!” declares the Umpire. “Ten… nine…”

By this point, the Hedgehog is literally frothing at the mouth. Mechagraviton continues to attack, even after its victory is declared. Shards of spines and slivers of metal fall to the floor. Neither stops when their trainers shout.

The gates open again, and xenon darts are fired.

Mechagraviton rests itself on the floor, and faints.

The Hedgehog shows no sign of stopping. It takes another swipe at Mechagraviton, and screeches at the humans. And screeches, and screeches, getting louder and higher-pitched. The audience in the lower stands clutch their ears. There is a stampede for the doors; nobody can escape the wails of the livid creature fast enough.

The Monster handlers fire a second round of darts. The Hedgehog paddles at the air furiously, unable to right itself. It continues spinning.

Desperate, more Arena staff run on, throwing the handlers weighted nets and sharp tridents. Among the uniformed staff, there is a young red-headed woman whom many recognise as Tatters herself. She's clutching a metal pole, ten foot long, that handlers sometimes use for shepherding non-insane Monsters.

Whenever the humans draw near, The Hedgehog lashes out with its talons. Tatters determinedly holds her pole, and presses forwards with the intent of stopping it spinning, perhaps holding it long enough for the nets to catch. Gnashing in fury, the Hedgehog thrashes and bites. Tatters' pole is no longer ten foot long. To the remaining audience, it's not clear what happens, but the woman staggers away with a) a five-foot pole and b) blood streaming onto the Arena floor.

Two hours later, The Hedgehog has stopped spinning so violently, and it becomes possible to net it. It is still screeching as it is dragged off to the pens.

The crowd whoops and whistles its delight, as the Nyoominator and Annihilatron take their places in the pit. From opposite sides of the stadium, the trainers face one another: Executioner, to the left, fixes the newcomer - Sprocket - with a baleful stare. Sprocket, however, refuses to be cowed - they are the picture of determination.

“FAAAAANS OF THE AARENAAA!” The commentator's voice cuts across the throng - as ever, strangely amplified. “TONIGHT, WE GIVE YOU THE MECHANICAL EXTRAVAGANZA YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR: ANNIHILATRON VERSUS THE NYOOOOMINATOOOR!”

Annihilatron is a vast, towering mass of rust-covered gears and knives. At the sound of its name, it rears up, giant shears screeching.

“IN THE LEFT CORNER,” continues the commentator, “WE HAVE THE TERROR OF THE GLADATORIAL ARENA - THE MURDEROUS MASS OF METAL - AAAAANIHILATROOON!”

With a sickening scrape of metal on rust, Annihilatron thumps back to the groun.

“AAAND ON THE RIGHT, WE HAVE A NEW CHALLENGER! YOU'VE SEEN IT DOING STUNTS ALL AROUND THE CITY - NOW, LET'S SEE HOW IT FARES IN BATTLE! I GIVE YOU THE NYOOMINATOR!”

Much as Annihilatron is a crowd pleaser, there is considerable enthusiasm for the Nyoominator, who comes swerving out of its corner, hot pink sides flashing in the spotlights. The Nyoominator resembles a large, mechanical ant on wheels - though, at present, it is moving almost too fast to discern this. Nonetheless, its face is known: a handful of fans towards the front wave hand-drawn posters of its likeness.

“THIS ONE'S QUITE SOMETHING! BUT WILL SPEED BE A MATCH FOR SHEER - OR SHOULD THAT BE SHEAR - FORCE? LET'S FIND OUT. LET THE BATTLE… COMMENCE!”

The Nyoominator doesn't need telling twice. As soon as the call sounds, it comes hurtling into the centre of the arena, deftly swooping out of the way of Annihilatron's spiked wheels. The crowd screams their approval as it builds up speed, skidding laps around its opponent.

Annihilatron shakes its massive metal head in confusion, as it attempts to track what is essentially a hot pink blur. The Nyoominator continues to circle. At one point, much to the amusement of the audience, it does a wheelie - leaping up, only to land smoothly once again. Annihilatron swats at it ineffectually, as it jumps and swerves out of the way of every blow.

Eventually, Annihilatron seems to lose patience. It gives a furious roar, rearing back in frustration. Then, a single deadly shear comes crashing down against the floor of the arena, sending up spirals of dust upon impact.

As the air clears again, there is silence from the crowd. The Nyoominator is nowhere to be seen - could it have been crushed so easily?

Annihilatron seems to think so. It holds up its shear, as if to investigate whether or not it has succeeded in swatting this insect - but the blade, though rust-streaked, is otherwise clean! With a thwarted screech, it begins to turn.

What happens next is almost too swift to comprehend.

A glint of bright pink emerges from the edge of the arena. The Nyoominator is reversing towards its foe. It careens across the centre, slamming into Annihilatron's side.

There is a sickening keen of what can only be agony from Annihilatron, as the Nyoominator scores its stinger across its wheels and side. Chunks of metal are torn away, and the hulking machine begins to emit unhappy spurts of smoke.

Annihilatron is pinned in place by the damage to its wheel, but it still has some fight left in it. Down come both shears, with even more ferocity than before, hacking through the dust of the arena. The Nyoominator is ready, though, ducking and gliding away from each attack.

It backs out of range, and then comes barrelling towards its foe once again - this time, forward-facing. It rams itself against Annihilatron's other side, sending out a burst of smoke and sparks.

Annihilatron keens again - and topples. It lands with an almighty thud, clattering motionless to the floor.

As the Nyoominator reverses away, slightly slower this time, the umpire begins the count. The commentator and the crowd join in as seconds pass -

“EIGHT… NINE… TEN! ANNIHILATRON HAS CONCEDED! THE NYOOMINATOR IS TRIUMPHANT!”

The crowd goes wild, as Nyoominator does a victory lap around the arena.

“FANS OF THE AAAARENAAA! GIVE IT UP FOR THE CONTENDERS IN TONIGHT'S CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT: GIGAZAUR AND THOOOOOORN!”

The crowd is as raucous as always in its appreciation: the night sky rings with cheers, whistles and screams. Thistle stands aloof from it all - a look of stern stoicism on her face.

“IN THE LEFT CORNER, WE HAVE THE HEAVY-DUTY LIZARD THAT WON ALL YOUR HEARTS LAST SEASON - GIGAZAAAAAUR!”

Gigazaur is large. A scaled, tooth-laden monstrosity, it thunders its disapproval at the audience. Not to be dissuaded, they scream back all the louder.

“AAAAAND ON THE RIGHT, WE HAVE A NEW CONTENDER - THE MOODY, ENIGMATIC BALL OF OF SPIKES WITH AN EYE OUT FOR GLORY: THOOOOOORN!”

Initially, Thorn appears to be a large, black lump, strewn with lethal-looking spikes. The audience seem immediately charmed by its dark, looming and oddly charismatic presence. Their cheers return with redoubled vigour when Thorn begins to move. A terrifying thicket of spike-clogged tendrils start to unfold, until Thorn is roughly five times the size it appeared to be: more than a match for Gigazaur in bulk.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“IT SEEMS THIS ONE IS FULL OF SURPRISES, FOLKS! WHICH OF THESE BATTLE-BITTEN BEHEMOTHS WILL EMERGE VICTORIOUS? LET'S FIND OUT IN THREE… TWO… ONE… COMMENCE!”

Gigazaur gives an almighty roar of discontent, stomping its way towards Thorn. Every step it takes produces an alarming thud. However, it is stopped short by a warning lash from several of the spike-encrusted tendrils, which graze painfully across its snout.

Gigazaur keens and roars, but more with anger than pain; its scaled armour seems to have protected it from damage. Thorn is going to have to either lash out harder, or find another strategy.

Gigazaur backs away, seemingly irritated that this spike-garnished meal is proving so difficult to access. The undulating of Thorn's tendrils seems equally testy.

Gigazaur circles, as if looking for the appropriate moment to strike. Thorn remains in place. After a moment's consideration, the former lowers its armoured head, and begins barrelling towards its adversary in a terrifying charge.

Even with Gigazaur set on a collision course, Thorn stands its ground. One of its vines comes whipping out, low, aiming for the feet. Gigazaur, having built up too much speed to dodge effectively, is tripped sideways by the unexpected attack. Flung to the side by its own momentum, it crashes to the floor - only to come up snarling.

Thorn wastes no time, sending out tendril after tendril to batter its opponent. However, the spikes seem to be doing minimal damage to those scales, and Gigazaur gives as good as it gets, tearing at Thorn's spiralling limbs with its teeth.

As Gigazaur attempts to regain its footing, dazed, Thorn advances - agonisingly slowly - on its foe. It keeps up the spiky-limbed barrage, aiming for the face; it seems if it cannot pierce Gigazaur's flesh, it can at least keep it blinded.

What happens next causes the crowd to scream all the louder. Thorn climbs on top of Gigazaur. Its tendrils weave around the giant lizard's belly, until Gigazaur is almost fully engulfed by spikes. With a triumphant SCREEEEEEEE, it wraps a limb around Gigazaur's throat, and tightens its grip.

Gigazaur thrashes wildly, struggling in vain to throw off its attacker - but Thorn's grip is too strong, and whilst its spikes cannot pierce the armour entirely, they provide excellent leverage. Meanwhile, the spikes that are caught against Gigazaur's softer underbelly seem to be drawing an unpleasant, greenish blood. Eventually, with a roar of futility, Gigazaur launches itself sideways, as if to crush its opponent under its own weight.

There is a sickening crunch, as both monsters are flung to the floor. Thorn is weighed down by the bulk of Gigazaur, and seems stunned - though not too damaged. Gigazaur, meanwhile, is freed, and looms over Thorn.

It looks as if it might all be over for Thorn - up until the point where one of its lashing tendrils catches Gigazaur in the eyes. The lizard gives an agonized screech, and bucks backwards.

Thorn does not waste the opportunity. It sends out spike-limb after spike-limb, thwacking at Gigazaur's vulnerable belly, leaving deep green welts scoured across scaled flesh. Gigazaur is helpless against this assault, toppling with another rage-filled roar.

Thorn settles on top of its opponent again, pinning its limbs with its tendrils. The umpire begins the count; breathless, the commentator follows suit.

“SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…”

Gigazaur grunts with effort, but Thorn has immobilized it.

“NINE… TEN! VICTORY GOES TO THOOOOOOORN!”

“ARENA FANS, GET YOUR BINOCULARS READY: WE HAVE TWO TINY TERRORS IN THE ARENA TONIGHT, BUT DON'T LET THEIR SIZE FOOL YOU!!”

Sales of cheap binoculars have rocketed again for this match as fans eager to see a crystalline feline and winged furry thing battle it out have either paid extra for the front row seats, or kept themselves to the high-up stands with their binoculars to hand.

“We have, trained by Dr Frost, a crystalline moggy not to be trifled with,” eyes turn to the diamond cat with a glowing fire inside it, “Will the aptly named DIAMON be enough to defeat the… what even is that thing? It's got like six legs… but it's furry, OH OF COURSE, IT'S TITCH!!!”

The crowd turns to survey the entrant from the south door, a mottled brown furry thing on six legs, with two wings folded beneath it. “Trained by ASH MOON, this is an interesting fight, fans, so let's get it underway: LET BATTLE COMMENCE!!”

At first it seems both Monsters are cautious to approach one another, but soon they're circling each other in the middle of the Arena. Diamon shines bright in the Arena lights, but against the sandy floor, the six-legged Titch stands out well too. They continue pacing around, both growling a small amount, and striking a little ahead to see how the other reacts. No contact is made, and the crowd waits with baited breath, until suddenly: “OOOOH THAT'S A SOLID STRIKE FROM DIAMON!”

The crowd takes a moment to react to the cat's speed, indeed to work out what just occurred, but Titch is now carrying itself a lot more cautiously. Diamon's crystal paw has drawn blood, and Titch is wounded. The game of circling continues, but Titch is losing blood. The brown creature makes a few strikes against Diamon, but Diamon is fast, and anything that does connect is glancing: Titch just doesn't seem strong enough to make a blow count, even when it gets them in.

Eventually, Diamon seems to be satisfied from its toying, and picks up the pace, it circles around Titch faster, getting the edge, and then SLICE through the air, it launches itself at Titch, slashing through the air and knocking the furry beast down before it can even think to dodge. There's blood on the floor, but not much, but it's a clean knockout.

“DIAMON WINS!!!” the commentator shouts, “And perhaps the CLEANEST victory of a real match we've seen in a long time - GOOD WORK, DIAMON (sorry gore fans, maybe next time!)”

“You're here tonight for a fight, so let's give you one! On one side, we have the cutest thing with no bones - SLIME KITTY, brought in by their trainer Bright!”

The gooey blob of cuteness looks up at her name, and lets out a small “mew” before going back to playing with the debris on the arena floor.

“And on the other side, let's have a big hand for ARMAGEDDON, brought in by their trainer, Wonder.”

Armageddon appears to just be a writhing mass of arms and hands, all waving at the crowd, enjoying the attention.

As the fight begins, Armageddon seems mostly uninterested, shuffling around and waving at members of the crowd, but its reverie is quickly shattered when the kitty comes to play. Slime Kitty joyfully leaps into the mass of hands, much to the confusion of the crowd (and their trainer, Bright), slipping through the smallest gaps and oozing through the writhing mass.

Armageddon freaks the fuck out, trying to grasp at Slime Kitty and get it out, but the blob slips through its fingers each time. Slime kitty is clearly having fun here, leaving pools of slime on the floor for Armageddon to slip over in.

As the fight continues, it becomes clear that Armageddon is slowly tying itself in knots, leaving its arms tangled into each other. Eventually, it just rolls over - grasping itself, barely able to move, and succumbing to being used as a toy by Slime Kitty.

“Playtime is over folks! Slime Kitty Wins!”

The arena staff move in, and roll the tangled ball of hands away. Others attempt to round up Slime Kitty, but the anaesthetic has no effect and the monster slips away from any attempt to grasp it, eventually vanishing into the depths of the arena backstage as Bright just watches and laughs.

“ARENA FANS YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT TONIGHT!!” the commentator is practically giddy with excitement as the Arena floor is cleared, “We have the enormous and fiery versus the small and many-headed, it's a fight that nobody asked for yet everybody wants to see: the CHAMPION OF MAGMA versus JAWS OF DEFEAT!! Bookies are already taking bets on JUST HOW MANY HEADS it will take before our REIGNING GRAND CHAMPION crushes Jaws of Defeat into the dirt, but let's not be too hasty: those heads can pack a serious bite!”

The crowds cheer as Jaws of Defeat, the many-headed leopard, roars, or, well, mews viciously toward the stands.

“Ain't it just the cutest murder machine? But I've delayed you enough, folks, we know you're waiting for her: IT'S. VOLCAAAAANOOOOOSAAAAUUUUURRRRRUUUUUUUSSSSSSS!”

The Arena shakes with every step as the veteran Volcanosaurus stomps out of its enormous gate. The crowd goes wild as the behemoth enters, dwarfing the person-sized leopard with its colossal size.

“Yes, folks, still a sight to behold: the power behind those arms… the heat in that heart! Anyway I'm getting distracted: you know the rules, TWO MONSTERS ENTER, ONE MONSTER LEAVES - LET BATTLE COMMENCE!”

The crowd goes wild as the fight begins. Jaws of Defeat wastes no time darting out the way as Volcanosaurus roars and charges forward, its enormous rocky legs enough of a challenge for Jaws to avoid on their own right, but avoid them they do. Jaws darts around, weaving in and out, giving Volcanosaurus reason to reach with its enormous arms, and swing with its massive tail. The crowd screams with delight as Jaws of Defeat runs round the edge of the Arena with the titanic tail of Volcanosaurus swinging after her, but-

“OOOH THAT'S GOTTA HURT!!!”

Volcanosaurus's fiery fist comes smashing down in front of Jaws of Defeat, sending the cat flying. It lands with a few bounces on the ground, before righting itself, but Volcanosaurus has the advantage now, and this fist is the LEGENDARY VOLCANO PUNCH, and it comes smashing through 3 heads in a row, incinerating them in a torrent of fire.

The stands are in riotous joy, and Volcanosaurus's eyes flicker around the stands as they chant “VOL-CAN, VOL-CAN-O-SAUR-US” - some might say it's distracted, but others might say it's sporting as Jaws of Defeat has enough time to grow 6 more heads and leaps back into action, climbing up the back of Volcanosaurus, but jumping off the back to the ground as the AWESOME VOLCANO ATTACK fires, and lava erupts from the back of the champion with an Arena-shaking rumble.

“OH WOW DID YOU SEE THAT? Jaws of Defeat is making a fantastic run here, and the crowd is loving it. The Arena walls are practically, no, now LITERALLY on fire, and Jaws of Defeat isn't down yet! Though- OOOH MAYBE SOON.”

Another swing of Volcanosaurus's tail is jumped by Jaws, but a fist comes in to connect with the cat, this time an uppercut that sends it flying into the air. The cat rights itself, but not before Volcanosaurus's enormous ridged head comes smashing down in a headbutt that sends Jaws plummeting to, and into, the ground.

The crowd loves it, and Volcanosaurus is pronounced the victor ten seconds later!