Presented here are the fights from the second round of UMBA Season XXXVI in the order they happened. For quick links to each fight, you may wish to use the links in 4.
“Fighting for his life tonight is famed Double Team Trainer Tackle, one half of Team Doomstorm! But will he live to rejoin his partner Block?”
Tackle storms out from the Gladiator gate, furiously yelling something along the lines of “DO YOUR FUCKING WORST!”
The Commentator laughs and continues.
“…and challenging Tackle is the bane of Gladiators everywhere; the bloodthirsty, blood-soaked Monster that cut The Professor into four pieces–yes, four–earlier this Season. You’d have thought that would have been enough of a deterrent against breaking etiquette, but… well, maybe Tackle here fancied a challenge?”
Tackle raises two middle fingers to the Commentator with an impressively furious expression and a cry of “SHUT IT, YOU SMUG FUCK!”
The gate on the other side of the Arena opens and a huge, mechanical Monster emerges. Its vicious iron shears glint under the spotlights, contrasting with the dark, dull rust of its body. Annihilatron steps into the ring and terror replaces defiance as Tackle looks over his opponent. The sword hanging from his belt looks pitiful compared to those shears.
Still, Tackle draws the weapon and aims it at the approaching robot. With his free hand, he blows a quick kiss to the sky, and his Fans scream in delight.
Annihilatron takes a few creaking strides towards Tackle, who adjusts his grip on his sword and takes a deep breath. The Monster's shears snap open and closed menacingly. And then it charges.
Tackle dives to the side with time to spare, being more agile by his opponent by far. He crouches, preparing to roll out of the way in case of a second charge, never taking his eyes off the Monster. Annihilatron turns and takes a few more steps towards Tackle, its shears spinning menacingly.
Tackle is fast, but not fast enough to outrun Annihilatron’s long strides. He weaves across the Arena as he runs, zig-zagging and ducking under the clicking metal shears as the audience cheers him on.
“FREE TACKLE! FREE TACKLE! FREE TACKLE!”
The chant starts up in the highest levels of the stadium and rapidly spreads downwards, across all stands. Banners are raised throughout the audience, bearing slogans such as: “TACKLE IS A HERO” and “GLADIATORS DESERVE BETTER”.
Tackle begins to sprint towards the Arena walls.
The Commentator gasps. “Well, it looks like Tackle’s Fans have turned out in full force! And isn't that chant catchy?”
Sure enough, more and more people seem to be joining in with the chant. There are still many audience members who appear to be determined to see blood shed, however, and they begin booing the Fans, calling for Annihilatron to “tear Tackle apart!”
Tackle ignores all of this, still running towards the edge of the Arena. Annihilatron follows with long bounds that cause its rusting body to creak in protest. Several times, its shears come close to snipping Tackle's head clean off, but Tackle keeps darting out of the way just in time. He tosses his sword away and draws a gun, firing over his shoulder as he runs. His aim is poor, but it keeps the Monster distracted as he makes a final, desperate leap for the walls.
Everything suddenly bursts into brilliant white light, and over the gasps of the crowd, Tackle yells in shock. When the light fades, Annihilatron is rumbling happily, speckled with blood. It takes a few steps backwards and there's a horrified howl from Tackle's Fans as the corpse is revealed.
“And that's… looks like six pieces? That's a new record! Congratulations, Annihilatron!” cries the Commentator.
“Now, let's get started, shall we? On my left, two Monsters who know just how to put on a show: it's TEAM BEETLE CIRCUS! And opposing them, we have the titanium tyrants of the Arena: TEAM HEAVY METAL!”
Mechagraviton rears up threateningly as the audience yells and boos and cheers delightedly. Beside it, Dark Steel poses in his flowing black swimsuit-cape. The viciously sharp blades of his fingers protrude from a pair of stylish gloves, also black.
“And my contacts tell me that those gloves Dark Steel is wearing were made by {ASTER DIS} herself! Aren't they stylish, folks?”
In the audience, {ASTER DIS} stands and waves for a round of applause.
“I just can't wait to see what happens tonight! Umpire Sway, are you ready? Trainers, are you ready? Rules Lawyers, are you… arguing already? Thank goodness the amplifier isn't on! LET THE FIGHT BEGIN IN 3… 2… 1… GO!”
Both Mechagraviton and THE TENT lift up into the air, Mechagraviton humming as it slowly levitates, while THE TENT is launched up in a high leap by a volleying catapult of Rollerpedes. It bounces across the Arena, and Decibel cheers.
“And we're off to a spectacular start! Mechagraviton appears to be going for a defensive strategy, while Team Beetle Circus are showing off their AMAZING Special Move: THE TOOTHSOME ROCKET! I must note, though, that there were a distinct lack of teeth in that move… why is THE TENT keeping its mouth shut?”
Sure enough, THE TENT's needle-sharp maw remains firmly shut as it is catapulted in a wide zig-zag across the pit. Seeing an opportunity to strike, Trainer Blade jumps up onto his bench and calls: “GIGASLASH!”
Obediently, Dark Steel draws its sheathed blade and a ripple of energy passes across the reinforced floor of the Arena, which fortunately remains undamaged during the attack. The Rollerpedes, however, are not so lucky. Though many of them are able to escape while mid-jump, the supporting beetle foundations are knocked flying by the slicing energy. The TOOTHSOME ROCKET manoeuvre ends prematurely, and the Rollerpedes form up into a protective column to limit the damage. THE TENT lands behind Dark Steel, who poses smugly for the audience with his cape billowing out behind him.
“Amazing stuff!” cries Decibel. “Just look at the skill shown by these Monsters!”
Mechagraviton floats across the Arena towards the Rollerpedes. Individual beetle bullets pepper its flank as the Rollerpedes launch a counter-attack, which does some damage but is not enough to halt Mechagraviton's advance. The metal dragon hovers over the bulk of the Rollerpedes, and then with a roar it slams down onto them. The swarm scatters as quickly as possible and adopts a new strategy of forming small attack units, but many of them are trapped beneath Mechagraviton. The swarm is looking lower on numbers, and their strategies begin to fall apart as Dark Steel directs an unnerving DARK GLARE at one of the circling Rollerpede units.
Meanwhile, behind Dark Steel, THE TENT turns. Its mouth opens, and inside…
“UMPIRE SWAY, I INSIST THAT YOU PUT A STOP TO THIS AT ONCE,” yells Noggin', seizing the amplifier from the Rules Lawyer stand. “THAT THING IS CLEARLY-”
A crackling blast of plasma shoots from THE TENT's mouth, surrounding Dark Steel and incapacitating it. Mechagraviton lifts up and out of the way just in time, only catching the attack on its underside while the crushed Rollerpedes are disintegrated.
“A PIECE OF ARCHAEOTECH SUPERFICIALLY SIMILAR TO THE MELTINATOR, YES!” interrupts Yarn. “AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH INCORPORATING ARCHAEOTECH WEAPONRY INTO A MONSTER.”
“OBJECTION!” shouts Noggin'. “BY THE SAME RULING OF FOOTSIE vs GREEN BEAST, THAT ATTACK–WHETHER OR NOT IT IS THE ORIGINAL MELTINATOR–MUST BE CLASSED AS A MONSTER RATHER THAN AN ARCHAEOTECH ENHANCEMENT.”
“OBJECTION YOURSELF,” Yarn taunts, clutching the amplifier to their chest. “FOOTSIE WAS CLEARLY LOOSELY HOLDING THE MELTINATOR IN ITS FIGHT; THE TENT HAS FULLY INCORPORATED IT INTO ITS FORM. LOOK, YOU CAN BARELY SEE IT STICKING OUT OF ITS MOUTH! IT'S PRACTICALLY JUST A TONGUE!”
Umpire Sway glances between the two, amused. With an approving nod to Yarn and an apologetic glance to Noggin', she allows the fight to continue.
Dark Steel, injured and recovering from the force of the Meltinator Piece of Archaeotech Superficially Similar to Meltinator attack, is unable to help Mechagraviton as it chases down the remaining Rollerpedes and knocks them out with a series of wing attacks.
“And that leaves just THE TENT to take down TEAM HEAVY METAL!” Decibel announces. “But… uh-oh, looks like the TEAM BEETLE CIRCUS Trainers aren't happy!” In the Trainer stands, Progress and Steeple can be seen arguing. Steeple gets to his feet and storms out, followed by Progress.
THE TENT rounds on Dark Steel, ready to crush him with its needle teeth… but he suddenly slices through the air and vanishes in a blurring, shifting shadow portal. He rematerialises a little way off, just in front of Mechagraviton. Crash leaps onto the bench beside Blade and together, they raise one hand into the air with a call of “DARKNESS FALLS!”
Mechagraviton whirrs, its wheel spinning rapidly as it lifts Dark Steel into the air. The eyes of the audience follow Dark Steel as he's launched upwards, his sword drawn. While arcing towards THE TENT, he sweeps his sword forcefully through the air, and a series of brutally precise GIGASLASHES are directed at the Arena floor.
Noggin' jostles Yarn in his attempt to grab the amplifier. “LOOK AT THAT! DARK STEEL'S SLASHES HAVE CARVED THE INITIALS OF HIS NAME INTO THE ARENA ITSELF!”
“THAT SEEMS HIGHLY INCONVENIENT FOR THE PEOPLE THAT NEED TO FIX THE ARENA!” Yarn calls.
“Agreed, but it sure is stylish!” Umpire Sway shouts.
Dark Steel lands in front of THE TENT and advances menacingly. He slashes a wide hole in the side of THE TENT's canvas, and Beetle Circus Fans everywhere howl in despair. However…
Through the cut in THE TENT's side, a large, spongey platform is pushed out. THE TENT leaps out of the way of Dark Steel's blade and towards the sponge, a unit of Rollerpedes emerging from its mouth and jumping with it.
“More Rollerpedes?” Decibel gasps. “Looks like their numbers have increased since the last time they fought! And hiding a unit inside THE TENT was a smart move!”
THE TENT lands on the sponge, which makes a very loud BOING sound as it launches the Monster high into the air. The Rollerpede unit also soars upwards and uses a TOOTHSOME ROCKET manoeuvre to volley THE TENT even higher. THE TENT lands in the Arena stands and begins to tear through the audience wildly, devouring everyone it can reach. Sizzles of electricity and dying screams fill the air, and Noggin' practically knocks Yarn to the floor to get to the amplifier.
“UMPIRE SWAY, DISQUALIFY THEM IMMEDIATELY! OUT OF RESPECT FOR THE VERY RECENTLY DECEASED, END THIS FIGHT! WHERE IS PENNYTHRIFT STEEPLE?”
The Umpire jumps to her feet and waves her arms in the air, announcing that since THE TENT has left the Arena, it is hereby disqualified and Team Heavy Metal win. She also announces that anybody within jumping distance of THE TENT should either evacuate immediately, or say a quick goodbye to their loved ones. A panicked team of handlers rush towards the stands, unsure how to stop the bloodthirsty Monster…
But with a hum from Mechagraviton, THE TENT and many assorted limbs lift into the air. Then, it is forcefully slammed back down into the Arena, where it twitches slightly before falling still. Dark Steel poses over its body on top of the carved DS, cape billowing and his arm extended towards THE TENT in a thumbs down gesture.
Decibel breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, thank the skies for that. A victory for Team Heavy Metal, and a great deal of respect from everyone about to be eaten, I expect! And Umpire Sway is signalling… an incredible three style points for Heavy Metal! But- wait, what's this? Progress, Steeple, are you…?”
There's a rustling sound as Decibel's amplifier changes hands, and suddenly Progress' voice rings out.
“-how could you, you know how dangerous THE TENT is!”
Steeple snaps back. “And whose job was it to train it to calm down? Sounds like you're deflecting the blame, old friend!”
“Friend? How could I call you a friend after what you've done? You're so concerned with putting on a good show that you don't care about the safety! People died today, Steeple!”
The audience joins in with the argument, taking sides as they see fit. Yarn contributes by offering their own opinions on the breakdown of the Beetle Circus friendship and cajoling Umpire Sway into handing over not one, but two style points for Beetle Circus (“A public argument? Nothing could be more stylish!”) All in all, it's been an eventful night.
A small, pitch black diamond hangs in the air across the Arena from Angler. A red light traces its edges, but the diamond itself remains perfectly stationary.
“Are you ready?” the Commentator continues. “Then let battle commence in… 3… 2… 1… BEGIN!”
Angler readies his trident, his eyes fixed on his opponent. Black Diamond moves towards him, travelling half of the way across the Arena in an instant, as if teleporting. Angler backs away from it, but with another instantaneous jump, Black Diamond appears behind him.
Angler's Fans shout a warning and he spins around, brushing against the Monster as he turns. And then, with an odd popping sound, the air closes around both competitors and they vanish.
Seconds pass.
Angler reappears a short distance from Black Diamond. He scrambles backwards, clearly unnerved and then begins darting towards a wall, never turning his head away from his opponent.
Black Diamond makes several more jumps towards Angler, and after several near misses only achieved through Angler's impressive reflexes, it succeeds in making contact with him again and they once again vanish.
When they reappear, Angler looks horrified. He swings for Black Diamond with his trident, batting it into the ground and staring at it as the red light tracing its edges fades away.
Angler continues to stare blankly at the ground as the Commentator announces his win and he's escorted out of the Arena.
“Good evening everyone. Beam here.” The announcer's voice rings out, unusually serious. “Today we have two gladiatorial battles back to back. Blastshot vs Blastdigger. Followed, possibly, by Blastshot vs Blue Lagoon.”
Today the Arena has been prepared not dazzle but to intimidate. Traps litter the Arena floor, but not traps for Monsters: traps for humans. Traps designed not to kill, but to injure, and wound and maim.
“First into the Arena is Blastshot, the coward responsible for the slaughter of one of the greatest Monsters to ever fight within these walls. Does it surprise anyone to learn that she turned her hand against a fellow human in a breach of etiquette that we have tragically had to witness twice this season?”
Beam takes a long breath.
“Fitting then, that she meets her fate at the very hands of the Monster she neglected, and jealously held from the Arena.”
The portcullis at the far side of the Arena opens. Blastshot stumbles in, pushed from behind by two Executive Branch agents. One eye seems swollen. They throw a small sword out after her, which she picks up.
“Now, on a brighter note. People of Bastion, let me please introduce, for the first time ever, Blastdigger!”
Across the Arena from Blastshot, Blastdigger enters. The Monster is roughly person sized. It is mammalian, covered in tan fur and has two large shovel like claws. It wanders warily into the Arena, looking around up at the crowd, who cheer wildly for the new Monster.
The two of them stare across the Arena at each other, Blastshot hoisting her sword.
“Fight!” Beam yells.
The bell rings. Blastdigger approaches its former Trainer, hackles raised. It circles Blastshot. The woman keeps her eyes on the Monster. She makes some gestures, perhaps trying to assert her control over the beast. Whatever response she’s looking for she doesn’t seem to get.
Blastdigger leaps at its Trainer, bearing her to the ground. It thrashes about, and she flails beneath it voiding the blows. After a moment Blastshot manages to roll out from under the Monster.
Blastshot waves the sword in a warding motion in front of her as she retreats from the beast. Occasionally she makes a stab towards it, although to little effect. She navigates the traps, perhaps trying to lure the Monster close to a particularly deadly one.
At last Blastshot tries to stop retreating, near a couple of spinning buzzsaws protruding a few inches from a wall. She faces the Monster as it approach, growling. Her strategy seems obvious, wait for the Monster to leap on her again, dodge and see it shredded to pieces.
Blastdigger leaps. Blastshot tenses to dive out of the way. And she mistimes it. Blastshot bears her to the ground and pins her. Then it begins tearing her to pieces.
A bloody limb comes flying out under Blastdigger, striking the saws and disintegrating in a spray of blood. Blastshot lifts the small body in its jaws, shaking it vigorously, then flings her a few feet away. She's not moving. It looks at the body, growling, before leaping at it again. It gains purchase on Blastshot’s neck and head and shakes her viciously by it. The fragile fold of flesh holding her head to her body comes loose. The heavier torso falls away. Blastdigger drops the head and begins to savage the torso, eventually pulling entrails from it.
“And I suppose there we have it.” Beam shouts. “Blastdigger wins. Let's all give a hand to the Arena’s newest Lightweight Monster. Such a shame it's being pulled from the League.”
Long moments go past, as people wonder what will happen with the upcoming match with Blue Lagoon.
“People of Bastion,” Beam yells. “We have a last minute change to the schedule today on account of Blastshot not being able to make it. Our newest house monster will be picking up the slack of it's former monster: brace yourselves for Blastdigger vs Blue Lagoon!”
Blue Lagoon slurps into the Arena, a large gelatinous orb of blue slime. Blastdigger is still mauling the corpse of it's former master but quickly turns it's attention to the new monster. The crowd roars with excitement, already worked up with blood-lust following the previous fight.
Blastdigger bears it's fangs, retreating from the blue orb as Blue Lagoon extrudes it's way forwards. It bumps into the Buzzsaws behind it and yelps, a spray of blood streaking the sand. It leaps leaps, turning to the unexpected source of pain.
In a moment Blue Lagoon is on it. Bounding through the air and wrapping itself around the beasts head. Blastdigger reels, clawing at it's head with the large shovel-like paws to no avail. It Blastdigger reels, stumbling around blundering into the traps that had been prepared for Blastshot, accumulating a thousand cuts and strings and bruises.
Eventually it succumbs, suffocating with Blue Lagoon wrapped around it's head.
“There we have it!” Beam yells. “Blue Lagoon wins. What a show. Can we hear it for both of these great monsters!”
The crowd screams it's approval as Network handlers carry Blastdigger out, and the triumphant Blue Lagoon parades around the blood soaked sand.
“It is fitting, that the criminal known as Blastshot should meet her fate at the hands of the Monster she neglected. While this cannot fill the hole left in us by the loss of Cinder and Volcanosaurus, it is good to know that there is some justice left in this world.
Let us remember Cinder and Volcanosaurus. Let us remember the Championship Final of Season XXXV, let us remember the entrance of Volcanosaurus in Season XXXIV: Volcanosaurus vs Gigashark. Let us remember the highs and lows of Volcanosaurus' and Cinder’s time in the Arena. Truly, they were the best of us, and their legacy will inspire Stakeholders for generations to come.”
The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and boos as Dark Steel walks into the Arena, looking as menacing as ever. From the other side, Shock And Awe's entrance is met with less volume but just as much fanfare, as Terravolt calls the six-limbed centaur robot in. The electric whip in its hand sizzles and cracks even before it is lashed. Meanwhile, Dark Steel fixes his opponent with an unusually active gaze, gauging the distance with hand on blade hilt.
The announcer calls the start of the fight and Shock And Awe immediately opens up with a shoulder mounted artillery cannon, hoping to knock out Dark Steel as the fight begins. But, seemingly anticipating the shot even before Blade can call SHADOW STEP, Dark Steel brings its sword out in one fluid motion and cuts open the air, teleporting directly behind the robot as the fired round explodes uselessly against the reinforced Arena wall.
For a moment Shock And Awe seems confused, unable to see its opponent, but a second later lashes around behind itself with its electric whip. Rather than dodging the surprise attack, Dark Steel simply raises an arm and the whip wraps itself around, sparking uselessly against the metal. Dark Steel does not even seem remotely fazed and begins wrapping its arm further up the whip until it is face to face with the robotic centaur.
Shock And Awe kicks out, hoping to dislodge Dark Steel, but he seems to anticipate this as well. With a free hand, the sword comes down and slices across Shock And Awe's front two legs, cutting open the metal and causing it to collapse to the floor. He yanks, pulling the whip free, and tosses it casually to one side.
Dark Steel steps back, holding the blade in ready position, as if studying his now-crippled enemy before the final strike.
“Dark Steel! GIGASLA-”
“WAIT! Wait! I forfeit! Please! We forfeit, you've done enough damage already, we withdraw. Shock! Drop!”
Blade looks over to Terravolt who is flailing madly at him, as Shock And Awe stops moving and the Umpire begins to count it out. The crowd is now primarily booing, having hoped to see a killing blow, but a small section of die-hard Fans send up a cheer when the count hits zero. Dark Steel sheathes his sword, and begins to withdraw.
“A win for Blade and DARK STEEL! Quicker than we were expecting, but sometimes that's the way it goes! What an incredible display of power there from Dark Steel - we're hoping to see more of it in Alpha Division in the future!”
The North Gate opens, and out wanders Gearbox, its little metal legs making merry progress along the Arena floor.
“Oh it's Gearbox! I do like Gearbox. Yes, trained by Dashboard of Dashboard Mechanics - you can see his name on the Arena wall there, in fact! - Gearbox recently won its first match against Spikeby, so we're looking forward to seeing what it can do against its mystery opponent. If you would open the South Gate, we'll see who that is! Canvas why are you smiling?”
There's a tense “oooh” from the crowd as the South Gate opens, and a silhouette of a person can be seen against the smoke behind it. The crowd cheers, but that's overridden by shouting from the box, “CANVAS I HATE YOU SO MUCH I AM GOING TO GET MY REVENGE ON YOU ONE OF THESE DAYS THIS ISN'T FUNNY YOU PIECE OF SH- Oh shit, is this thing still on? Yes, yes, it's… ew. It's Maximus. Gintrap's unfortunately successful creeptastic abomin- oh come on this isn't bias this is telling it how it is. Let's hope Gearbox can do something permanent, hm? 3, 2, 1, BEGIN!”
The battle starts and Maximus charges toward Gearbox, its bare feet slapping against the sand as it lumbers forward in a frenzy. Gearbox steps to dodge, but Maximus is quicker: but its knife slips against the metal of Gearbox's armour, the surprise lack of resistance nearly causing it to topple over.
“YES. YES. HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?!? Um, I mean, bad luck, Maximus, looks like Gearbox has got the edge on you!”
The fight continues, with a few near misses like that with the knife just scraping Gearbox's armour, until suddenly with a wild strike, it plunges through the top of the box, and gets stuck. The crowd take in a collective breath, but Gearbox seems unaffected. Angered, its sides open up to reveal the laser cannons underneath and with an almighty “zzzzzzzzKA-PEW!!!!” they all fire into Maximus's chest, launching the creature back, its wrist twisted at a funny angle for a moment as the knife is wrenched out of Gearbox's armour, and it lands in a heap on the floor.
“FUCKING YES!!! EAT LASER YOU CREEPY KNIFE-WIELDING THING!! EAT. IT.”
Maximus picks itself of the floor in a daze, but spurred on by its success, Gearbox lets another barrage of lasers loose and Maximus is on the receiving end of more focused-light-based-justice, each shot sizzling on its flesh as Gearbox back-pedals for more space from its advance. Maximus attempts to advance, but it's no use: Gearbox's lasers are too much for it to handle and Maximus falls over dead.
“YES. YES. YES. YES. YES. YES. YES. IN YOUR FACE, CANVAS, IN YOUR-”
There's a screeching from the commentary box until a new voice takes over, “Um, sorry about that, looks like a win for Gearbox and Dashboard!”
The crowd cheers, and the lights in the stands turn off leaving only the Arena floor illuminated.
“FROM THE NORTH GATE,” Unfiltered shouts, as the great gates open, “WE HAVE A SADLY DOWNTRODDEN MONSTER WHO HAS YET TO WIN A FIGHT, BUT PERHAPS TODAY THAT CHANGES? TRAINED BY DASHBOARD, IT'S A CRATE OF COGS AND DEATH, IIIIIIIT'S GEARBOX!!!”
Gearbox waddles out, quite small compared to the size of the Arena gate, and the crowd cheers. It surveys the audience, and wiggles happily.
“AND FROM THE SOUTH GATE, WITH ONLY ONE WIN BEHIND IT THIS SEASON, WILL THE BELL TOLL FOR ITS OPPONENT? TRAINED BY MUZZLE IIIIIIIIT'S SPIKEBY!!!”
The gate opens and there's an echoing ringing as out hops an enormous bell absolutely covered in spikes - every inch of it! The crowd cheers for the challenger, and without further ado the battle commences. Spikeby immediately stats hopping toward Gearbox, and with the enormous Monster looming over it, Gearbox seems to shake a little with fear, but then it waddles quickly to the side and avoids the pounce of the giant bell. Spikeby takes a few moments to hop around to face Gearbox, but already Gearbox opens up to reveal an assortment of GIANT LASER CANNONS. The clapper inside Spikeby clangs against the wall of the bell in fear, as Gearbox unleashes a barrage of giant lasers, which sizzle through Spikeby's spikes and sear into the bell with considerably force.
Spikeby rings in fear, but Gearbox isn't through, its cannons fire again and again, turning the merry tune of Spikeby's ringing into a cacophany of suffering. Eventually, Spikeby rings its last, and collapses, still. It doesn't move for ten seconds, as Gearbox watches carefully, and then: “THAT'S IT! SPIKEBY IS DOWN! GEARBOX IS VICTORIOUS!!!”
The crowd cheers, and Gearbox looks up and does a small wiggle which can only be interpreted as a victory dance. Spikeby is dragged from the Arena, and Dashboard reunites with the very merry Gearbox.
The voice of the Commentator is oddly familiar. Vice Executive Masters?
“It is my pleasure to introduce this Gladiatorial Fight between Gladiator Nectar and Omega, trained by Tatters! As ever, Stakeholders, I hope that you enjoy the show. Let this battle commence in 3… 2… 1… BEGIN!”
Omega, bearing the symbol of the Monster House on her armour, sprints towards Nectar and punches them hard in the side of the head. Nectar drops instantly. Omega peers over them for a moment, and even Masters seems surprised.
“Are they… hm, they're bleeding. Well then. Are you sure you can't revive them, Omega? No? Alright, I suppose if that's ten seconds… Omega wins! Can somebody come and check if Nectar is still alive?”
A small team of medics rushes into the Arena, carefully scoops up Nectar's body and carries them out of the pit. A few moments pass and then Masters' amplified voice is heard again.
“Apparently, they're still breathing. But they are very much unconscious, so excellent work, Omega!”
The audience does not seem satisfied with this. A couple of people begin calling for a rematch. One young Fan stands up and begins chanting:
“Bring out Gnosis! Bring out Gnosis!”
Others join in, more and more until the entire stadium is calling for Gnosis. Masters laughs over the voice amplifier.
“Well, as exciting as that would be, Omega has already won her fight. She would have to be re-entered for an additional match… although, in this case, I'd be more than willing to pay the registration fees myself. It does still come down to Omega's Trainer, though. Tatters, what do you say?”
“Yeah, I'd be alright with that.”
“Very well, then! Following Amendment 10,000, the audience's request for Omega to fight Gnosis is APPROVED! We will take a short break while Gnosis is prepared for the fight, and then Omega vs Gnosis shall commence!”
After around ten minutes of waiting, Vice Executive Masters gleefully announces the start of the match. The Arena gates open and a Monster slinks out into the open, sleek and feline with leathery, deep purple skin. Gnosis's eyes are fixed on its opponent.
Omega pauses for a moment, staring at Gnosis with a distant look in her eyes. Her Fans begin to chant her name to spur her on, but she seems almost frozen in place.
Suddenly, she charges towards Gnosis, a look of grim determination on her face as she readies her scythe. With a click, the handle and curved blade spring from the device, and Omega uses the momentum of her charge to swing down towards Gnosis. It rolls to the side and darts out of range, and Omega snarls in its direction.
A portal opens next to Omega, who steps through it and emerges directly behind Gnosis. She misses again as she swings at the Monster, which darts through the same portal and appears on the other side of the Arena. The two chase each other for a minute or so, each of them jumping through the portals as they materialise. Over the voice amplifier, Masters laughs delightedly.
Before long, Omega appears to grow irritated by the game of cat and mouse, and she advances towards Gnosis while sweeping her scythe in wide circles around her and over her head.
A portal opens above Omega's head and something–no, someone–falls through. The audience screams in shock as the body plummets directly into the path of Omega's scythe… and with a wide spray of blood and assorted body parts, it is promptly cut into pieces.
“Goodness, what was… is that Blaze? Junior Executive Blaze? How in the world did that happen? No, don't stop the match! We can deal with this later.”
Omega continues to advance towards Gnosis, not bothering to look back at the body behind her. Gnosis backs up, but finds itself cornered against the Arena walls. Omega reaches to activate her harness, ready for a final glide and scythe combo, but…
Her movements are suddenly slow and uncoordinated, and she fumbles with the device. Gnosis moves towards her, its eyes glowing. She drops to her knees, that distant look in her eyes again. Gnosis doesn't attack–it merely watches, amused, as Omega fails to move and the countdown ends. And then it slinks back out of the Arena as Omega is helped to her feet and half-carried out.
The crowd is particularly excitable today. On the way to the Arena, stall vendors selling newly updated Doughball action figures were hawking their wares at top volume, and more than half the crowd are waving miniature pink doughnuts in support of Maximum Taste and the Monster House. Equally vociferous, of course, are the anti-Max contingency, many of whom sport hastily-designed Grey posters - in addition, of course, to Grey's own Fans, who look on the Doughball merchandise with faint disgust. Still, the Monster House publicity machine is nothing if not efficient; an incredibly loyal section of Maximum Taste Fans are already waving banners displaying slogans like 'DOUGHNUT IS IN THE RING!', and 'DOUGHBALL WILL RISE' - in addition to a couple of the old 'LET ME LICK IT' posters from several months ago.
This, as the commentator suggests, is going to be an interesting fight. Doughball has not been seen in the Arena since its spectacular evolution a few weeks before - and the Fans are nothing if not hungry for more.
“AAAAND, DOUGHBALL - ERM, DOUGHNUT? NOPE; APPARENTLY THE NAME STILL OFFICIALLY REMAINS AS IT EVER WAS - HAS COME ROLLING INTO THE ARENA!”
The announcer's voice is swallowed up by the sound of delighted cheers from the crowd, as the even more delicious-looking than usual Doughball comes wheeling into the centre of the floor. Now larger, firmer and glazed with sprinkle-strewn pink frosting, it bounces expectantly.
“AND OUT OF THE LEFT DOOR COMES GREY! WILL THIS EVER-ENTERTAINING MONSTER BE ABLE TO BREAK ITS LATEST LOSING STREAK?”
Grey comes striding in to meet Doughball. Today, slightly raised plates jut out around it: it is equipped with light armour, gleaming and metallic. As ever, its sleek, semi-humanoid form just teeters on the edge of unnerving. Doughball bounces unconcernedly.
“LET'S SEE THIS FIGHT BEGIN!”
Doughball takes a short, preparatory hop backwards, and begins to circle its opponent. Grey begins to stretch out its arm, with what looks like the slender barrel of some kind of mechanical projectile weapon beginning to form at the tip of its 'fingers'.
Doughball, who seems to be concentrating exceptionally hard, nearly misses the sight of the gun - but, as Grey fires, manages to hop into the air just in time. The projectile does not hit: rather, it goes hurtling through the hole in the centre of Doughball's ring-shaped body. Members of the audience holding action figures wave them high in triumph.
It's not over yet. Stepping back, Grey takes aim, and couple of new rounds are fired - but as Doughball bounces, both go wide. Meanwhile, Doughball goes back on the offensive. It seems to furrow in on itself for a brief moment - then, as the delicious smell of fresh baking wafts through the air, it spits out a gigantic wad of jam.
Grey is drenched in slimy red goo. It reels for a moment, disorientated: temporarily unable to keep hold of its form. Doughball springs forward, eager to take advantage, but is forced to hop out of the way as its opponent recovers itself, aiming the gun upwards again.
The shot misses by a mile. Whatever effect the jam has had on Grey's functions, it has certainly confused it.
Doughball sends out another glutinous projectile, dousing Grey once more. Grey struggles and shifts, attempting to cohere, but it cannot seem to move as effectively as before. It fires wildly, and manages to send a few sprinkles flying, but nothing more. When this proves ineffectual, it reaches out physically towards Doughball, lengthening its arms - but Doughball sends a blob of jam directly into its face.
Grey reels once more. Doughball, triumphant, bounces directly onto it, sending it hurtling towards the floor. A few more bounces, and Grey is immobile.
“LOOKS LIKE IT'S A WIN FOR DOUGHBALL, EVERYONE! WHO KNEW THAT JAM COULD BE SO EFFECTIVE?”
Judging by the smug look on Maximum Taste's face as he goes to collect his earnings, at least one person had an inkling.
And indeed today's Arena is a rare display of the Network’s wealth, thousands upon thousands of great mirrors, and other reflective metal surfaces, set in great arrays both upon the walls of the Arena and on metal frameworks within.
“First off we have the Monster Jaws of Defeat. I appreciate that they may look a little different to usual but I can assure you all that everything is above board. The Monster formerly known as Luminous Point, aka Lumi, which is much cuter in my opinion, is raring and ready to go, making an explosive entrance at the top of the Light League.”
Luminous Point Jaws of Defeat stomps its way into the Arena. It bears a significant resemblance to Volcanosaurus, although it is substantially smaller than the former Heavyweight titan. It also has brilliant crystalline armour and strange eyes that seem almost… scratched out.
“Up against them we have the current favourite of the Light League, the unbeaten, Non-Euclidean, Cephalopod-ean: OMNISQUID!”
Trainer Night stumbles into the Arena. They are wild eyed, with disheveled hair and a long trench coat. They seem to be raving, yelling something lost to the roar of the crowd. The far doors of the Arena open into darkness. The crowd quickly falls silent, as a deep bass drone splits the air. Slowly emerging from the depths is a creature that defies comprehension.
A solid sphere of tentacles splaying along fractal lines from an infinitesimal point. The hyperbolic geometry of Omnisquid is maddening to look upon.
And it is everywhere.
Reflected from thousands of mirrors, no longer confined, Omnisquid surrounds the crowd on every side. People begin to scream.
“Uhh, I don't feel so well…” Beam quavers through the microphone. “Let the… fight… what was I doing?”.
The bell rings to signal the beginning of the fight.
Omniquid advances slowly on Jaws of Defeat. Its terrible visage is reflected from every angle. It suddenly seems that these are not mere reflections, but have a terrible life of their own.
Jaws of Defeat turns its unblinking, empty eyed stare on the approaching force. Amazingly, Omnisquid slows. From the spatial folds between its tentacles eyes emerge. Eyes beyond counting. Terrible eyes that see too much. From the stands someone screams “I didn’t mean it!” The effect spreads throughout the Arena stands, spectators wailing, collapsing into gibbering wrecks.
But Jaws of Defeat stands its ground. Omnisquid seems almost to struggle, forcing itself towards the smaller Monster with flailing tentacles as if through invisible treacle: countless eyes locked in a deadly staring match.
The two draw close, and reality around the Arena dissolves, from the thousands of mirrors tentacles begin to reach out hungrily, through the glass. They wrap around people, dragging them screaming back through the glass.
The two Monsters are but a hair's breadth apart. A significant fraction of Omnisquid seems to be staring at its tentacles, eyes wide with an expression that could only describe as existential horror. Omnisquid begins to collapse in on itself, the radius of its hyperbolic geometries contracting.
Then Jaws of Defeat blinks.
Omnisquid surges forwards, wrapping its flaying tentacles about Jaws of Defeat. The smaller beast doesn’t make a sound as it is surrounded, but the piercing shriek of Omnisquid’s tentacles against Jaws of Defeat’s crystal skin leaves no doubt as to which Monster has the better of the fight.
A gunshot rings out and Omnisquid collapses in a cloud of Xenon, but something has changed. Its eyes remain exposed, its tentacles dance along trajectories that describe uncertain geometries. Its global symmetry seems broken, its motions seem less certain.
“… ugh, my head… I guess… Omnisquid wins? I think. Yes the Umpire's judgement has come down, Omnisquid wins! What a match, what a match. Everyone give it up for the yet undefeated champion of the Light League, Omnisquid!”
The gate is opened, enormous metal planes that creak as they're parted to form an aperture 30 feet high. The audience holds its breath in anticipation as out strides–
A TINY ADORABLE BALL OF FLAME.
The crowd is a bit speechless, but a lone voice in the crowd shouts “WOO! GO FRIENDLY FIRE!” and everyone else joins in. The commentator, a bit taken aback, regains their composure and shouts “IIIIIIT'S FRIIIENDLYYYY FIIIIIRE!!!!” The audience cheers, and the little ball of flame looks around at the enormity of the Arena, a bit dumbstruck, before it lets out an uncannily child-like giggle, and spins around, spitting flame in all directions. The front row duck before their Arena-finest is singed, and the commentator moves on to announce “AND FROM THE NORTH GATE we have our other MASKED MONSTER: trained by Bygones, it's sure to be bigger than FRIENDLY FIRE: will you OPEN THE NORTH GATE PLEASE!”
The gate opens, and the ground shakes as out lumbers an enormous metal dinosaur, new cogs and gears gleaming on its surface. It stomps out into the Arena, and lets out a deep shrieking roar of defiance, as its illuminated eyes scan the audience and settle on Fireball. The audience cheer as recognition of FERROSAUR from previous seasons ripples through the stands and the commentator continues, “Ah, yes, Ferrosaur - it's had a bit of an upgrade since it received a whalloping from Angler in the past - I'm sure it's out for VENGEANCE, and it's ready to take it out on FRIENDLY FIRE, so LET'S. GET. READY. TO. BATTLE!!!!”
The crowd cheers, and immediately Ferrosaur lets out a loud shriek before charging at Friendly Fire. The little Monster lets out a noise that sounds a lot like “Uh-oh” before it whirls into a column of fire that bounces to the side, just avoiding the stampeding feet of Ferrosaur, but not in time to miss its tail whip, which knocks into it and sends it flying across the Arena. Friendly Fire gets back up, to the sound of “Owie”, as Ferrosaur charges again, rusted claws and teeth visible to the crowd as it charges for Friendly Fire. Again, Friendly Fire dodges, just getting out of its way, and again this repeats, but Friendly Fire lets out an “oof” as it dodges for the third time, knocked to the ground, clearly getting tired.
Ferrosaur shrieks and prepares to charge again, but this time Friendly Fire morphs into a funnel shape, and as Ferrosaur charges it belches burning flames at it. The robosaur roars in agony as its metal glows red, then white as Friendly Fire keeps up the attack, and eventually veers off from the attack. Friendly Fire has the advantage, and its childlike glee and giggling returns as it swirls around the Arena in a tornado of flame, and spits fire in all directions, but most targeted toward Ferrosaur. Ferrosaur tries to block the heat, but it seems weak to the attacks, and soon it falls to the floor, unable to sustain function at such a high temperature.
“FRIENDLY FIRE IS VICTORIOUS!” shouts the Commentator, and Friendly Fire continues to giggle happily in the centre of the Arena until Arch comes out to usher it away.
A gate in the Arena walls opens and Maximus emerges. He's wearing something on his head… a chef's hat? And over his dirty tank top is a long white apron with the phrase “I ♡ Calamari” printed onto it. The audience erupts with laughter.
“Back for a grudge match, it's Maximus! Let's see how he fares against Omnisquid this time. Let the fight COMMENCE!”
Omnisquid begins its usual, incomprehensibly complex recursive pattern, but something is… off. Every so often, the expansion of tentacles through reality itself falters, and Omnisquid resets back to its original, rather ordinary-looking form. Each time this happens, its constant dull drone rises to an irritated, frustrated whine, before it begins the cycle again.
Maximus does not seem to care for whatever Omnisquid is going through, and advances confidently towards the creature with his knife held aloft.
Seeing its opponent approaching, Omnisquid defends itself with a fresh attempt to unfold infinitely into more tentacles, but something again goes horribly wrong and it folds into itself, collapsing in a heap of twisted grey flesh. As this happens, Maximus reaches out, grips a tentacle in one hand, and confidently slices through it with the knife clasped in the other.
“MAXIMUS HAS SEVERED A TENTACLE! ONE DOWN, A POSSIBLY INFINITE NUMBER TO GO!”
Maximus continues his attack, the mathematics of Omnisquid flying over his head. Omnisquid struggles and attempts to demonstrate more fractal geometry to the crowd, but again ends up tangled in a heap as Maximus slices through several more tentacles.
“This is… impossible! I can actually follow what's happening! My head isn't spinning!” the Commentator cries.
The audience rises to their feet, cheering Maximus on as he thoroughly deconstructs Omnisquid. By the end of the fight, there is barely anything left, only a tiny, motionless squid at the feet of a victorious calamari chef.
The Monsters are returned to their respective Trainers as Maximus is declared the winner. Trainer Night turns to Gintrap, and with tears in their eyes, they hand her the limp form of Omnisquid.
And then they break away and run from the Arena, with tears of joy streaming down their face and a final, delighted cry of “I'M FREE!”
A colossal figure approaches the city, the rising sun an orange-red disk behind a huge cloud of dust. A rhythmic tremor runs through the ground at each titanic footstep, and the haze rises higher. Even at this distance it is easy to tell that the figure is massive, easily dwarfing the buildings of the city and even the Arena itself.
With red eyes and tired faces the inhabitants of the city finalise their preparations, the figure's warning still clear in their minds: Eradication protocol engaged. Substantial anomalous lifeform presence detected. Demonstration of cultured civilisation required to avert final failsafe measures.
Well - if it's culture that it wants, then it's culture that it'll get.
Preparations are underway for a cultural extravaganza the likes of which haven't been seen in the city in living memory. Circuses, concerts, poetry, fanfic, and of course the Money Pit are all being prepared for a demonstration of Bastion's best effort to the approaching figure.
Meanwhile, attempts are underway to ensure that the cultural displays will have the time they need. An expedition headed by Ultimate Ventures is preparing to head out to observe and interact with the approaching figure, and accompanying the scouts and envoys to the wastelands are a number of experienced monster trainers with monsters and equipment ready to engage if necessary.
The Wastelanders themselves have already received warning from Arch, who arrives back just as the expedition is about to set off. They confirm that those who had not already fled Metrovore's approach are now keeping a solid distance away, as they were able to use their connections to spread word just ahead of its slow but inexorable gait. ==== The Exclusion Zone ====
An exclusion zone is set up around Metrovore's approach by the observation team. Ash Moon immediately takes charge of the organisation and logistics, organising a base camp where amongst other supplies Dr Frost is setting up a medical tent to take care of any wounded, should the worst happen.
Prior to the showdown, a pamphlet is distributed, courtesy of Trend, warning of the potential dangers posed by Metrovore. It mentions the vast range of projectile weaponry it seems to have at its disposal, it's declaration of lethal intent, and a rough estimation of its height (exceptionally large). The publication is particularly strident in its condemnation of Metrovore's alleged Trainer, Mesh. It suggests that enabling Metrovore to conduct its fights within the Arena is the Trainer's responsibility - as will be any damage incurred to life or property as a result of his negligence. It strongly urges Mesh to register Metrovore in the League, upon paying all the requisite fees. Normally, people might find this relatively comical - but for now, they seem to cling onto it as a lifeline to normalcy.
Meanwhile, in the absence of Ultimate Ventures' regular security chief Quake, Saffron has volunteered to take a few combat-ready monsters and trainers forward to set up a small front-line of defense and confront Metrovore if it attempts to push further forward. In addition to Saffron and Pepper, the advance guard consists of Crash and Mechagraviton, and DYNAMITE with Knight-Mare.
Further back at the base camp, Angler, Chaser, Suture, Gintrap, Malbec, and Trend are hanging back making observations while Paradigm is working on a large metal armoured vehicle of some kind.
Metrovore approaches the advance guard, step by inexorable step. It doesn't seem to show any signs of slowing down, and everyone is starting to get nervous. DYNAMITE shouts with Saffron and Crash about sallying forward to engage it immediately before it can get any closer, and before either can hold them back DYNAMITE spurs Knight-Mare forwards. With shouts of warning lost to the wind behind it, Knight-Mare breaks into a gallop and throws up a tiny plume of dust as it races across the wastes towards the towering robotic figure.
There is a brief moment where Saffron and Crash look at each other, wondering whether to follow, when Metrovore's implacable step pauses for a moment.
ANOMALOUS LIFEFORM DETECTED
The words reverberate across the cracked earth, drowning out all other sound. For a moment there is a pause, as if everyone is drawing breath at once - and then an ear-rending SCREECH as a gigantic laser blast bursts from the giant robot's eyes. The beam rakes across the ground towards Knight-Mare which zigs and zags valiantly, but a short moment later the beam hits the armoured centaur which explodes into superheated shards, leaving little other than a charred trail and a crater filled with smouldering wreckage. ==== Show It What We Got ====
A short, terrified silence settles over Bastion.
Then, faintly, from over the edge of one of the city's crumbling market squares, comes the sound of music.
“Roll up!” calls a voice - distant, yes, but amplified, and getting louder. “Roll up! Join us - Morose Progress and Pennythrift Steeple - for the experience of a lifetime!”
For just a second, Metrovore - to the excitement and trepidation of all witnesses - turns its massive, expressionless head towards the source of the sound.
The voice continues, heedless of the attention it has excited. “Don't miss the opportunity to see Rollerpedes and THE TENT perform feats of theatricality and athleticism never seen before! We invite you all - we implore you all - to join us for the greatest performance ever made: Bastion's finest (and only) circus, quelling the savage, metrocidal rage of Metrovore!”
And then, THE TENT explodes into view.
Propelled by the momentum of a thousand curled-up Rollerpedes, it plunges into the sky, huge maw agape to display rows and rows of needle-like teeth. It lands, and is pushed up into the sky once more: somersaulting across the horizon, then tumbling to earth, only to careen upwards again.
The Rollerpedes, meanwhile, each in matching circus outfits, have arranged themselves into letters. HELLO, they spell out, in neat, calligraphic font. Then, after another flurry of activity: LOOK WHAT WE CAN DO.
What follows is a magnificant feat of aesthetics. The Rollerpedes stack themselves into expanding geometric patterns, getting more ambitious and intricate as they go. As THE TENT tumbles and soars, they provide an ever-shifting filigree background, creating weaving patterns of impossible complexity.
Thronged around the performers are mobs of screaming Fans: holding posters; waving fanart and flags. One person is even doing an impromptu public fic-reading. They cheer as THE TENT rises and plunges; they look on in awe as Morose Progress says something inaudible but clearly insulting to Pennythrift, as the latter scowls at the former. The drama is immense.
However, just as THE TENT begins another gravity-defying leap, there is a bursting screech of feedback: the sort of ear-piercing noise that voice-amplifying archeotech occasionally makes.
The crowd turns. There, where a slab of the city's rubble has been arranged into a makeshift stage, stands a young woman with a devilish grin: hair streaming; face fierce; some kind of metallic stringed instrument in hand. Flanking her are a handful of equally tough-looking girls, each also positioned in front of a salvaged musical instrument.
“Your little circus act is cool and all,” declares the woman at the front, voice blaring out over the screech of her archeotech device, “but I think it deserves better musical accompaniment! FANS OF THE ARENA - I am SOUTHPAW, and this is LEDA ATOMICA!”
A sizeable crowd is already forming around the stage, every bit as rowdy as Morose Progress' audience - but significantly rougher round the edges. The majority of them wear deliberately torn clothing, fastened together with gleaming tags of metal that must have been collected from scrap piles around the city. Their hair is choppy and of improbable colours: their lipstick is alarming, and their voices are loud.
Southpaw, as the loudest, scruffiest and most improbable of them all, laughs with delight as the crowd screams her name.
“You wanted a show? You'll get your show! People of Bastion - Fans - Metrovore - observe!”
What follows is a veritable explosion of sound. As the Rollerpedes dance in and around wild, gyrating Fans, Southpaw launches into a vivid rendition of her first song, 'Watch Me Melt'. As she strums at the loud string instrument, a fluid melody is produced, blending effortlessly with the heartfelt rasp of her high notes. Multicoloured jets of light shoot out from the instrument when she plays, bathing the flying TENT in floods of colour.
“Let me hear you, Bastion! This next song is WARFACE DISGRACE, but I'm gonna need a little help… from RIMERA!”
An ice-white Monster is ushered onstage: an elegant, six-legged lion-goat with a decidedly lethal-looking glint in its eye. Southpaw, to the delight of the Fans, leaps nimbly atop Rimera's back as she starts the intro to her next song.
What follows is slightly more chaotic than perhaps expected, as Rimera bucks, Southpaw yells musically, and the other members of Leda Atomica hurry to pull their instruments out of claw range with another vast screech of archeotech. However, the Fans still seem to be loving it; if anything, the pandemonium onstage has only increased their enthusiasm. The circus show continues to the wild ongoing strains of 'Calling All Lobsters', 'Geopoliticus', and 'Nightspider'.
There is another scream of archeotech amplification from atop a nearby dilapidated warehouse.
“Is that all you got?”
Out from in front of the vast, lashing tentacles of Thorn strides Thistle. Elegantly attired in black, her braided purple hair a slash of colour against a background of spikes, she raises a bottle of Dr Petrol towards the sky.
“Your songs have style. But do they have substance?” Determinedly, she looks out towards Metrovore. “I'm going to show you something that's rooted in feeling. I'm going to spin you a love story so weird and ambivalent you'll weep, and in doing so? I'm going to win at marriage.” Taking another swig of Dr Petrol, she yells towards the crowd: “This one's for you, Crabgrass!”
What follows is quite possibly the worst and most enthusiastically declaimed piece of slam poetry in Bastion history.
I love you more than flies love putrid trash,
My dearest, precious, wilting stranglevine,
If love is poison ivy, you’re the rash,
I itch with adoration – so, be mine.
Beloved reeking cankerblossom, stay,
And stink within the ring of my embrace,
I’ll marry you on every single day,
And cherish your absurd, putrescent face.
My darling fungus, I would never try
To purge you from the garden where you lurk.
No herbicide could ever make you die,
Your roots are deep, so even that won’t work.
Thus, Crabgrass, may your weeds forever spawn
Upon my otherwise untainted lawn.
By the final couplet, the surrounding crowd are cheering, screaming and chanting Thistle's name.
Metrovore approaches, but the city will not be cowed. Instead, the streets have come alive. Morose Progress calls out to his audience as THE TENT and Rollerpedes continue to jump and glide in acrobatic display. Southpaw emerges bloody, beaten and elated from a mob of her Fans, still screaming out the last note of 'Spring First, Dawn Last'. Thistle chants about how the colour of oozing fungus always reminds her of her true love's eyes. In the distance, at a nearby bookshop, Trend makes a passionate argument for the Volcanosaurus tragedy being an integral facet of Bastion culture - and elsewhere, whilst announcing the debut of his invisible arm robot, Todo List hosts a Money Pit spectacular. Fans flock the streets: displaying art, reading fic, singing songs - the entire city is ablaze with motion, sound and colour.
—
==== Holding It Off ====
Despite the cultural bombardment ongoing, Metrovore is still approaching Bastion and taking pot-shots at any monsters that get close enough. As Ash Moon and Malbec coordinate a staggered withdrawal, it quickly becomes clear that it's difficult to keep pulling back the base camp, and at this rate Metrovore will be at the edge of the city before everyone's various plans can be properly put into action. It's up to the defensive cordon to occupy Metrovore for long enough for them to finish.
Saffron immediately attempts to take charge. Heedless to anyone else's suggestions, she launches into a complex plan that is very clearly pitched more towards the watching crowd than it is at the Monster trainers - almost like she's attempting to cut a promo. She starts talking about fight pacing, and making sure everyone gets a chance to do their most flashy moves. From the back, Ash Moon calls forwards and suggests that this plan might be more showy than effective, but she continues regardless. With the pressure on, and lacking alternatives, the defenders have no choice but to try to follow any plan, whether or not it's a good one. It'll have to do.
The meat of Saffron's plan mostly involves trying to perform combo moves with the monsters, in the manner of an Arena fight. To her credit, Saffron actually does seem to have made a comprehensive study of everyone's abilities and has some bright ideas, so Basilica, Pepper, Mechagraviton, MonoChrome, and Maximus are all brought up to help, and even Diamon is sent forward from the field hospital as Dr Frost takes up a position with some kind of long-barrelled archaeotech weapon. Suture, meanwhile, takes charge of medical considerations.
Just as people are starting to ask questions (and object to some of the more potentially-suicidal ideas) there's a shout from the back of the watching crowd. Sprocket rides through the crowd on the back of The Nyoominator, while some sort of large translucent glowing sphere rolls along behind.
Ze skids to a halt next to the waiting Trainers and dismounts, Nyoomie waggling its extra limbs excitedly. The rolling sphere also comes to a halt, and appears to contain Strike. It's clearly some sort of archaeotech forcefield with symbols and lights flashing all around, but Strike is moving it around by pushing on its inside with hands and feet.
“Don't worry everyone! Strike thinks this is what controls the giant robot, or at least it might give us some information!”
Strike looks around himself for a moment and then shifts awkwardly, rolling the sphere backwards until a holographic image of Metrovore is projected on the front of the ball, surrounded by arcane glyphs and strange symbols.
“Can anyone make any sense of this?”
“I know the basics, let's take a look.” Crash starts pushing the ball around to get a better look at parts of it, much to Strike's consternation.
“I think these bits might be weak points, we should focus on those. And these are definitely weapons, keep an eye on them when they activate.” She wrinkles her nose in consternation.
“That'll help us, but this is complicated and we have to act fast. Maybe Paradigm can take a look?” She pauses. “What is he doing, anyway? Didn't someone say he had a tank?”
“He's working on it now,” Chaser calls out from further back in the crowd, “we need to hook up the Thing-Thrower, he's making the final adjustments now.”
Saffron rejigs one or two of her combos to more effectively target the weak points that Crash has pointed out, and everyone pushes forward to begin the fight. ==== Fanfic Cannon: Online ====
Something happens.
For a moment, Thistle stops reciting. Morose Progress falls quiet, and the Rollerpedes slow, as the TENT descends. Southpaw is still singing, but a couple of the other band members have abandoned their instruments and are pointing towards the sky. Even the fighting slows, with MonoChrome taking the opportunity to pull back after being flung into the giant robot's chest at high speed by MechaGraviton, and Pepper scampering out of range of the missile launchers.
A broad shaft of light is beaming from the very centre of the Arena.
Slowly, it revolves, dazzling all spectators with its intensity. It settles on the red visor of Metrovore. The giant Monster gives a terrifying shudder as the light begins to blink on, and then off again, in a quick, arhythmical succession.
As the observers' vision clears, they look up past the glare to see four spotlights pointing towards the middle of the Arena - to see a final, larger spotlight at the centre - and to see the silhouetted figure controlling it.
It is [BAD STAR] - [BAD STAR] haloed against the darkening sky, like some kind of never-seen-before, light-suffused Monster; [BAD STAR] with her hair pushed back by her goggles, holding a thick sheaf of papers in one hand, and gripping the edge of a perilously-balanced ladder in the other.
“People of Bastion!” she calls. She has no artificial amplification. She has no need of it. The entire space around the Arena has fallen silent. “We know why we are here. The creature we call Metrovore has threatened our way of life. Threatened our civilisation. Threatened our Arena. One might as well say it has threatened the very blood in our veins; that which was born before us, and that which will outlast us for generations after Metrovore is dust. Well, I am here to tell our would-be destroyer that the Arena speaks back.” She waves the papers higher. (Thistle waves her can of Dr Petrol in a responding salute). “Because here is its voice! That is to say, here are the combined voices of our people! The fanfic you have written, the stories you have told, and the songs the Wastelanders have sung! All of these - your stories, the Arena's stories - have been translated into code which is being emitted through these lights, and soon enough, Metrovore will hear us.”
The light continues to beam into Metrovore's visor, shutting on and off again - speaking to Bastion's attacker of . Metrovore itself has gone stock still, as if blinded.
“It's all there,” says Sprocket, excitedly, from the ground. “Khaos' Writer of Off the Record/Prime Executive erotic fic. Curlicue's Nyoomie and Giant Block of Wood story. Even that one Block/Tackle canon AU work in progress! We tried to give it the best writing we could. I like to call it the Fanfic Beam!”
As Metrovore stands frozen, there is terrified silence from the surrounding areas.
Then: “YEAAAAAAAAH!” shouts Southpaw, a trickle of blood sliding down her cheek. “Cmon, Leda Atomica! One, two, three, four!”
As the raucous strains of 'Knows No Glass' fill the air, the surrounding area comes to life once more. The Rollerpedes do a victory lap around the stage. Thistle starts drunkenly yelling out love-metaphors. Sprocket begins to dance with excitement, as Fans begin to scream and cheer.
For a seemingly infinite amount of time, the gigantic fanfic beam continues to glare and pause. Metrovore remains stunned. The party continues - loudly, madly triumphant.
As the last light shuts off, Metrovore raises its head. Gradually, the sounds die out once more, as everyone waits, breathless, for its reaction.
CULTURE SUFFICIENTLY DEMONSTRATED. ERADICATION PROCEDURES DISENGAGED.
==== Bring It To Its Knees ====
Relief washes over people's faces. Metrovore has been stopped? At least, it's not intending on destroying Bastion anymore. From back at the support tents a few voices break out in cheering.
Angler pushes Basilica further forward, hoping to get a closer look at the robotic figure and maybe find a way to get inside. But with a few more steps forward, Metrovore's torso twists violently and the missile launchers deploy once more. Before Angler can pull Basilica back, a swarm of missiles carves through the air and detonate against a wall, leaving pitted craters and causing Basilica to stumble slightly backwards under the impact.
“It's still attacking Monsters!” he calls back, and immediately the Trainers start to pull back and away, putting as much distance between the robot and their Monsters as possible.
Angler quickly ushers Basilica back to Dr Frost and Suture's medical tent, the join a couple of other injured Monsters. The damage seems to be superficial, and Basilica is docile enough to stand a bit of sanding and brickwork replacement, but locating the damage within its labyrinthine convolutions proves challenging. Dr Frost sends Suture in with some rope tied around her waist, and with a bit of coordinate teamwork, they are able to heal.
Meanwhile, Metrovore rises, its body moving in improbable ways as it gets back to its feet.
“Ah, to hell with this! I'm making the call - we need to bring it down!” Malbec shouts.
“Paradigm, is that thing ready yet?” Gintrap looks nervously back and forth between Paradigm's field workshop and Metrovore.
“Yes, I think so! I'll fire as soon as we're in range,” he responds.
The armoured vehicle, now fitted with the force-field generator that had been attached to the jeep and Chaser's Thing-Launcher strapped to the top, rolls forwards and begins to pick up speed.
Chaser calls out from within the vehicle. “I need everyone to distract it while I get us closer!”
Looks are exchanged between the various Trainers, until Saffron takes the initiative. “Let's go!”
The vehicle hurtles towards Metrovore, with Chaser swerving around various obstacles to maintain cover as various Monsters dart in at the sides to distract it. Mechagraviton narrowly avoids a laser beam, while missles burst leaving craters behind Pepper which darts backwards and forwards, too fast to hit.
Eventually it slews to a halt, and Paradigm sticks his head from a hatch in the top, holding a small globe in his hand.
“Are you ready?” he says, seemingly to the Thing-Launcher, before reaching forward and pulling the trigger. There is a WHUMF sound, and something thin and aerodynamic is launched in a high arc towards Metrovore's head. As the robot turns its laser gaze through the air to try to counteract this new threat, the object slams into it, hard.
Metrovore staggers backwards, disoriented by the force of the impact, and all over its surface various lights start blinking on and off at random. Its joints freeze solid and it stops moving, and Crash takes the opportunity to push MechaGraviton forward, shouting “GRAVITY SLAM!”. The force from MechaGraviton's move directed at a single leg is just enough that it slowly teeters and topples backwards. As it strikes the ground, the earth shakes and people are thrown from their feet. Dust is thrown into a huge cloud obscuring everyone's vision.
As the dust settles, Metrovore lies on the ground, still apparently active but for the moment motionless. Paradigm and Chaser open the hatch and wave to the other trainers to move in.
Gintrap shouts, spurring everyone onwards, and everyone dashes in to attempt to restrain the robot while it is still on the ground. It takes some time to sort everything out, but with Metrovore apparently unable or unwilling to move it's simply a matter of time before some spare cabling from Little Thread, chains, and various other supplies are pressed into service as makeshift tethers, anchoring the robot to the ground.
The great robot threat is on hold, with Metrovore subdued for now. Perhaps even… captured?
The crowd chants as ToDo List strides confidently out into the Arena, with Cart whispering urgently to him but quickly straightening up to smile, wave, and match his stride as they step up to the podium.
“just a recipe for a trash fire OH HELLO FOLKS AND WELCOME TO A VERY SPECIAL MONEY PIT: ROMANCE EDITION! Oh do we have a surprise for you tonight, we don't even know what's going to happen!”
Todo List takes over the narration. “That's right! Today we have two darlings of the arena, who have already won each others' hearts, and now want to win some shiny tech as well!.”
Cart has clearly reached whatever plane of “just go with it” ToDo List exists on, and picks the flow right back up. “But not for themselves, oh no, they're going to be choosing gifts for each other.”
“And without further ado, it's time to introduce our lovely couple!”
The Khaos and Tatters walk out hand-in-hand, and take their places at the entrance to the pit. The maze for this show splits off into two sections, the paths intertwining with each other in a way that seems like a wonderful visual metaphor until you actually think about it.
Khaos is in a … unique … fashion ensemble, with a leotard, a feathery shrug jacket, and a smart tie. Tatters is just dressed in her usual style.
“While they take their positions, let's introduce tonight's merch. Now, firstly, we know that roses are a symbol of love, but this is the Arena, so we don't want the pretty part of the flower, we want the violent part - so our first piece of merch for tonight is the Thorns!”
The merch sellers obediently hold up some models of the monster, Thorn, as the crowd mutters at the pun.
“And what could be a better token of affection than a pretty gem, especially a… green… and… glowy… one? Give your sweetheart a healthy glow with these luscious glowing rocks!”
The items held up are indeed green and glowy, but more from the slime that covers them than the rocks themselves, and frankly, they look more like scales than rocks.
Tatters leans over and mutters to Cart, just loud enough for the front row to catch the words. “Wait, so the thing I get goes to Khaos and the thing she gets goes to me?”
“Yup.”
“Those of you who want to give Khaos more time, pick the gems, because they are as radiant as she is. If you want to give Tatters more time, pick the thorns, because, erm… they're spikey?” Tatters gives ToDo List a quizzical look, but shrugs and prepares to enter the maze. “Each of you is going in there to find something for your partner, so bear in mind what they like! And now, the moment you've all been waiting for….”
The crowd, Cart, ToDo List and the two contestants chant together.
“GET IN THE PIT”“
Tatters shrugs, and saunters into the maze as Khaos takes a moment to find the right dashing pose to start off her dash into the pit. Khaos scrambles through the obstacle course, at times ending up tangled or upside-down and not making great progress - but still more than Tatters who just finds the first thing with flashy lights and wanders out to wait for her date. The merchandise dropping down the pipes starts at not much more than a trickle, and pretty soon Tatters' pipes are still and silent as the audience realises quite how done with this she is. Khaos still gets a reasonable flow of merchandise, giving her more time, but it seems to be more out of morbid curiosity than anything else as the audience watch her scramble and struggle through a gauntlet clearly intended for someone more athletic.
Still, as the clock ticks down and the crowd chant off the last few seconds, Khaos snatches something shiny looking as her prize.
Cart brings them both out of the pit, and up onto the podium. “Alright, time to swap your gifts and show each other how much you care.” There is a touch of frustration and threat in Cart's voice, clearly wanting more of a show than she's getting. Tatters just rolls her eyes and hands over a small box with some flashing lights.
“Here. I got you a shiny thing because you're shiny.”
Khaos, ever the showwoman, accepts it graciously, turning it over in her hands but unable to figure out how to activate it, or even what it does, and then hands over her gift - a box with several draws and slots, filled with little coloured rollers. When Tatters takes it and presses a button, it whirs, and an ornately printed slip of paper rolls out. The markings on it make it clear that this slip of paper was intended to be used as money, and there is a flash of gold in Tatters' eyes even though whatever currency this is has not been used in living memory.
Tatters shrugs, if there is any gratitude there it's not being shown in front of the crowd. “Cool, great, next bit of the date?”
“Well there you have it folks, we'll let our two lovebirds get on to whatever else they have planned tonight! Be sure to join us next round when we'll have an ALL STAR CELEBRITY CAST”
Pepper, meanwhile, runs just as determinedly at MonoChrome, leaping and rolling into a spiky ball that thunders across the arena like a cannonball. MonoChrome flinches first, turning out of the charge to avoid hitting the spikes face-first, and instead aiming a kick at Pepper.
It connects, sending the ball spinning wildly across the Arena, just as Saffron, hands cupped around her mouth, yells “Immolate!” Pepper bursts into flames, as she rolls back towards MonoChrome. The ball slams into the sheep, spikes catching in his wool, and flames licking out to char the fleece. Pepper uncurls, dancing away from MonoChrome, spines melting into tough scales as the sheep charges. This time the blow connects, sending Pepper flying across the Arena, but though she hits a wall with a solid smack; she immediately shakes off the impact and launches back into the fray.
Meanwhile, MonoChrome's fleece is still smouldering, burnt away in patches, and he bleats in pain and panic. Pepper takes advantage of his distraction to attack again, weaving around his legs, trying to trip him up. Then, her scales suddenly spike up, slashing at his ankles. He stumbles, and she attacks again, spikes to the body this time.
Pepper disengages, and goes to leap at MonoChrome again, when the charred fleece melts away, along with the rest of his body, and she passes directly through the cloud of gas that MonoChrome has become. The sheep skull floating in the cloud of gas turns to face Pepper, grinning toothily as the third eye in the centre of its forehead narrows. Then, while she's dazed and confused, it charges; tossing her across the Arena again.
Pepper stumbles to her feet, casting around wildly in all directions. She fires a scorching spike into the air - nowhere near MonoChrome - and backs away as if from something invisible, squealing. The sheep skull swings around behind her, swooping in for another charge, and bleating. At the noise, Pepper looks around, and seems to spot MonoChrome as if for the first time. She hurls a spike at it, backing away as she does so. MonoChrome keeps coming; Pepper keeps fleeing flinging spikes, sometimes at MonoChrome's face, sometimes at thin air. Finally, the sheep seems to have her cornered, she's almost out of spikes, and she leaps, desperately, full in MonoChrome's face, clawing at his eye.
MonoChrome lets out an unearthly scream as Pepper's claws stab him in the eye, though he has no way of dodging as she clings to his face, biting and scratching at his eyesocket until he collapses in pain to the floor.
“Well, that was an excellent match!” comes the summing-up announcement. “Truly thrilling spectacle; and the points should reflect that - yes, the win goes to Pepper, but there's two style points in it for MonoChrome, too! Those all add up, after all!”
The fight starts slowly, with Slime Kitty slinking toward Murk, and Murk keeping its eyes (just about visible under a long hairy fringe) on Slime Kitty, chewing on something. Slime Kitty looks adorable, but Murk doesn't seem to care, but when it gets too close, Murk attempts to trample on it with its hooves, an attack which Slime Kitty dodges, splitting into a slime for a moment before reforming as a cat.
This seems to aggravate Murk, who goes for a few more stomps, all evaded, and the fight picks up pace. Slime Kitty is an expert dodger but Murk is persistent, and under shouts from Noggin, Murk starts doing tricks as it stamps, bucking around and showing off. The audience love it, and love it even more when Murk attempts to headbutt Slime Kitty, before Slime Kitty suddenly melts down into a goo and slurps up Murk's nostril.
The audience laugh, and Noggin makes a remark audible on commentary about “technically exiting the Arena”, as Murk looks confused, then pained, and then emits an almighty ATCHOO!!!! and sneezes Slime Kitty across the Arena where she splats on the wall. She reforms, a little wobbly, and Murk charges, trampling again, and this time Slime Kitty does not get up.
The audience cheer and laugh as Murk is pronounced victorious, as well as gaining a reputation as “The Sneezing Monster”, which is a story heard being shared in bars days later.
Mechagraviton SLAMS down while Nyoominator is up on one wheel, and the pink monster wobbles and topples to its side. Before it can rise, Mechagraviton has launched a wing slamming into its underside. The bike flips across the arena, dark liquid leaking from a jagged crack in the fuel talk at its underbelly, and lies still, leaving Mechagraviton victorious.
Victory Viper does indeed look beautiful, the swimsuit cape standing out against its green and gold scales. From behind it, Trainer Zephyr swells with pride.
Omega stands opposite Victory Viper, dressed in what appears to be a suit of armour. Parts of her normal gladiatorial outfit are still visible, however, particularly the Monster House branding. In one hand, she wields a spear.
“I look forward to what will no doubt be a spectacular performance! Let the battle begin!”
Omega and Victory Viper dance around each other, Victory Viper sweeping in graceful circles around Omega as it attempts to trap her. Omega activates her harness and springs out of the way each time it attempts to coil around her, keeping pace with the faster Monster as best she can.
Omega darts behind Victory Viper and unleashes a burst of flame from her armour. The crowd gasps in shock and Zephyr screams “NO!” from their position in the Arena… but when the smoke clears, Victory Viper seems unhurt. It spins and knocks Omega flying with its tail, and the ruined, burned remains of its swimsuit fall from it as it moves.
There's a long moment of silence as Victory Viper stares at the tattered cape, and then it shrieks and reveals its rows of polished fangs. The crowd goes wild, calling for the Monster to defeat the enemy that so cruelly robbed it of its fashion.
Victory Viper launches itself towards Omega in a wild, uncharacteristically uncoordinated manner. It opens its jaws wide to sink its fangs into her… but with a burst of energy around Omega, the attack bounces off her. It falls back, disoriented, and Omega takes the opportunity to strike with her spear. One hit is enough, and Victory Viper shrieks again before falling still. Zephyr races towards it in panic but upon seeing that their Monster is still alive and not too badly wounded, they calm down.
“Three! Two! One! Aaaaand…BATTLE!”
Basilica slowly lumbers forward. Meanwhile, Pork Scratchings is…nowhere to be seen?
Instead, Pork Scratching's trainer runs out into the Arena. The pig itself, those with the right vantage points can see, is lying perfectly still in its holding pen, just outside the Arena floor proper.
The crowd are certainly paying attention now, a confused, attentive hush falling over the stands.
“Now, this certainly is an interesting turn of events. Square Peg's never been the most…conventional…of trainers, and she did need a new strategy, but…” the commentator burbles.
Basilica lumbers onwards. Square Peg stops, looks the towering creature dead-on, and says, in a loud, clear, voice that rings across the Arena and silences the commentary: “SIT.”
Basilica sits. Her legs fold underneath her, and with a creaking crash, she settles sharply to the floor.
“Good girl,” Square Peg says, gently, to the monster, then turns to look up at the Umpire's box.
There is scattered laughter from the crowd, then cheers begin building.
Ten seconds pass. The match is over.
The umpire confers hurriedly with two Network officials; a runner is sent to the commentator's box.
Minutes pass. The crowd starts to grow restless.
“Right, folks, we have the final results for you! In the Heavyweight match, Pork Scratchings vs. Basilica, the winner is…BASILICA!”
There is confused murmuring from the crowd, and a startled shout from Square Peg, who glances between the commentator and umpire, hands on her hips, then gestures angrily at the inert Basilica.
”…as Pork Scratching's trainer forfeits the match due to failure to field a monster. IIIIN the last minute, unannounced, special SURPRISE GLADIATORIAL MATCH between Square Peg and Basilica, the winner is…SQUARE PEG! A big hand for Bastion's newest Gladiator on her maiden appearance, fight fans!“
The crowd roars.
Before the countdown has even finished, Serpenticon lunges forward into the fray. There's a yell of “False start that snake - that's a punishable mistake!” from Yarn on the sidelines.
“Ah, quick entry from the rules lawyers this time round,” comes wryly from the commentator's box, as a squabble begins among the rules lawyers, Asterisk jumping in to Socket's defence. Meanwhile, Hard As Nails dashes in, moving faster than the Arena has ever seen it, dodging out of the way of Serpenticon's attempt to wrap its gleaming, articulated coils around the sock.
There's cheering from the stands, for both sides, as Hard As Nails grapples with Serpenticon. Blanket looks up at the stands, catches the eye of a gaggle of fans in handmade, button-eyed blue sock-hats, and begins a chant of “Fought not Bought!”, which the Nails fans take up gleefully.
Socket glowers, red with anger, and tries to catch Asterisk's eye to get him to intervene somehow, especially as by now Hard As Nails clearly seems to have the upper hand. Both monsters are grasping each other, trying to crush, but between quick reflexes and a flexible sock body, Hard As Nails is keeping ahead, and out of the clutches, of the more solidly armoured Serpenticon.
Snatches of Yarn and Asterisk's ongoing back-and-forth can be heard by the nearer members of the audience, Yarn speaking entirely in (slightly stilted and apparently improvised) rhyme for some reason; Asterisk growing increasingly frustrated.
The commentator gives up quickly on trying to keep the crowd's attention and, seeing where the audience's tastes lie today, turns the mic towards the squabbling duo, and they carry on - an endless, virtuoso display of rapid-fire legal trivia.
Then Yarn settles into their rhyme scheme and starts really showing off, working a pun into every other couplet. Asterisk sputters indignantly, and begins fraying around the edges, clearly losing his train of thought. He mis-cites an amendment, Yarn leaps unhesitatingly on the slip…
In the arena below, Hard As Nails has seized Serpenticon by the scruff of the neck and is beating its head against the floor of the Arena.
The snake falls still.
Victory goes to Hard As Nails. Yarn confers quickly with the commentator as the Umpire announces the results and Blanket rushes in to herd his monster away.
“Well, that was short and sweet! A dazzling display on all fronts - Metrovore, if you're watching, that was some real Bastion rhetorical 'culture' from Yarn and Asterisk today!”
And it's worth it - the spectacle begins even before the match does, with Pennythrift, in full circus-ringmaster mode, working up the crowd
He fits with the aesthetic perfectly, too - even before THE TENT makes its way centre stage, the Arena is fully prepared for the big top. Everything is set up for carnival; bright lights and colours, the smell of candyfloss coming from all around, not just the food booths in the stands. The light scatters from arrangements of funhouse mirrors set at odd intervals, distorting the arena, distracting the combatants, and reflecting the final environmental hazard - jack-in-the-box clown heads, popping up at random intervals with shrieks of mechanical laughter.
The TENT ambles in to cheers from the crowd, and Slaymatron charges. The two clash, Slaymatron's chainsaw whirring. It dodges the TENT's first attempt to engulf it, but is caught by a jolt of electricity that sends it haywire. The chainsaw sputters and temporarily dies, and the monster, confused, blunders into a mirror and bounces off as it attempts to escape.
The TENT seizes its chance, descending on its hapless opponent. The remainder of the struggle, no-one can clearly see. The sounds of Slaymatron's chainsaw, recovering speed, can be heard now and then, and occasional flashes of steel as the blade carves through layers of the TENT's canvas body. Lights flash, colours swirl as the TENT rolls around, trying to pin its bladed opponent. Gradually, it succeeds - whether Slaymatron is finally suffocated or jammed up, or whether repeated shocks have simply incapacitated it, eventually the whirring and tearing stops, and Slaymatron is an unmoving lump beneath the folds of the TENT.
The crowd roars, baying for violence.
“On the one side, we have TEAM SLIME, Blue Lagoon and Green Genie, and on the other side, TEAM HORIZON, Tyraxacor and Hurricane.”
Tyraxacor stalks one side of the arena, it's dandelion head swaying in the breeze, as Hurricane hovers beside. On the other side, Green Genie poses for the crowd, it's large red bulk contrasting wonderfully with the amorphous azure of Blue Lagoon beside it.
As the fight begins, Green Genie immediately engages with Tyraxacor as Blue Lagoon fights Hurricane.
Green Genie an Tyraxacor butt heads, the Genie's horns sending some of the fluff from Tyraxacor blowing across the arena, slightly scorched by the flames on each horn.
Hurricane shoots a bold of lightning at Blue Lagoon, and the audience gasps as a fern-like glow jags through the translucent blob. Blue Lagoon is clearly pained by the experience (as much as a blue blob can be clearly anything), but keeps fighting.
Team Slime are definitely a little worse for wear here, until Green Genie is finally pushed enough to unleash the flames. At the first spark, Blue Lagoon flattens itself against the arena floor, letting the flames wash over it. Tyraxacor roars, head aflame, and stampedes towards the stands, despite Crabgrass' attempts to regain control. Hurricane steams lightly, still rolling in like a storm, but more hesitant now, as Team Slime circle it.
Another bolt of lightning from Hurricane, this time aimed at Green Genie, is answered by another gout of flame - which downs Tyraxacor and leaves Hurricane weakened and unable to defend itself effectively against Blue Lagoon, which quickly smothers the cloud, subduing it.
TEAM SLIME WIN!
“The Network is sorry to announce that in the upcoming DOUBLE TEAM match - Team Legit vs Shards Falling - that KRYSTALKORPION will not be participating in the fight.”
There's a cry of discontent from the crowd, and the Commentator, Jitter, tries to salvage the situation, “Well let's not let that get us down too much, Arena Fans,” they say, over the noise, “We've still got three beasts of the Arena for you tonight, and perhaps 2 v 1 is the sort of challenge Thorn will rise to? Anyway, without further ado- oh come now, this isn't my fault, stop booing and get EXCITED: someone open the NORTH GATE for THORN would they?”
The crowd's disappointment starts to dissipate to make way for excitement as the enormous ball of thorny branches lumbers out of the gate, scraping the edges of the tunnel as it does making a sound like nails on a chalkboard. The crowd turns to cheering, “THORN! THORN! THORN! THORN!” and the commentator seems at ease.
“That's more like it. Thistle's Thorn is ready for action, so let's give her something to smash: open the SOUTH GATE for TEAM LEGIT!!”
The crowd cheers again as out of the South Gate saunter Longbow and Shrapnel. Shrapnel dressed in the swimsuit and with an ENORMOUS bow atop its head. The crowd cheers, “SEEMS LEGIT! SEEMS LEGIT!” and the buzzing atmosphere of the Arena fight is reestablished.
“There we go! See I said it would be fine, didn't I? Anyway, before you can get on my case again - yes, I do mean that - let's get this show underway. The Umpire's cleared to begin so let BATTLE COMMENCE in THREE. TWO. ONE. FIGHT!!!”
Immediately, Longbow ducks down underneath Shrapnel and gives the smaller Monster a lift as Thorn charges at a slow but determined pace toward its opponents. Throwing all of its enormous weight behind it, it smashes into empty ground as Longbow just about dodges out of the way of its flailing thorny branches. Shrapnel attempts to bring its eyes into focus on Thorn but finding eyes of its own to lock onto proves challenging while riding Longbow.
Thorn swings its enormous branches around, its enormous size compensating for its slower speed, and its branches nearly hurtle into Longbow, but High Noon's Monster jumps over the branches just in time, causing a cheer from the crowd at the display of acrobatics. Shrapnel just about holds on, but with Longbow focussed on recovering from the landing, neither spots the second wave of branches hurtling through the air. Longbow attempts to dodge again, but is slower than the attack, and the Monster takes the brunt of the force that punts it toward the Arena wall. Shrapnel falls off, but Thorn doesn't capitalise on the adorable robot being prone on the ground, it lumbers toward Longbow as it rights itself.
More thorny branches come smashing down on Longbow before it can, ripping into metal and servos alike, with the thorns scraping and hooking into the robotic structure. Longbow emits a mechanical screaming noise, its own claws ineffectual against the armoured surface of Thorn, but just about scrambles out of the way before Thorn can bring in a finishing blow. Longbow limps away across the Arena as Thorn slowly turns, but when it turns fully it locks eyes with Shrapnel, whose adorable chibi eyes stun Thorn with cuteness. Thorn, dazed, lets its branches dance around idly, before it snaps out of it and immediately lunges toward Shrapnel, but Sharpnel is smaller and faster and darts out of the way, and with Thorn's branches extended pulls off a tiny slap against the exposed core, before blaring Thorn with another stunning glance.
Longbow capitalises on the situation and hobbles in as fast as it can, some of its limbs clearly damaged, but not the ones with the vicious claws which it plunges into the tree's core. Thorn convulses in pain, but Longbow's sharp claws tear into its soft underbelly and rip a few of its vicious branches loose, the great bark-y masses falling to the floor.
The fans wince at the damage, but with its arms extended and no chance to recover from Shrapnel's glare, and no teammate to back it up, Thorn is bested. The great beast collapses to the ground and the fight is Team Legit's!
“A spectacular fight!” Jitter shouts over the noise of the Arena, “and the judges are awarding a STYLE POINT to Shrapnel for excellent riding skills, and a STYLE POINT to Thorn for holding its own in a 2 v 1 fight!”
“Eight… nine… ten! That's it, folks, GIANT BLOCK OF WOOD is DEFEATED and back on the TRUE FORM we all know and love. Annihilatron wins, and Giant Block of Wood can begin again its famous losing streak!”
Wild cheers of affirmation.
The Arena does indeed look rather… verdant. It is a mass of winding, waving dandelions. Craggy rocks, broken chunks of concrete and crumbling brick walls make up the bulk of the landscape: a kind of dilapidated homage to the city of Bastion itself. This, however, is not immediately evident, as everything from wall to wall is more or less completely coated in weeds. Clusters of soft, white heads bob merrily in the faint afternoon breeze. The ten-foot mural of Cinder grinning happily over an open can of Brikquid has gained a fluffy dandelion beard that lends an enigmatic twinkle to her eyes, and all Monster House advertisements have been more or less completely obscured.
“IN THE RIGHT CORNER, FOLKS, WE HAVE THE ENORMOUS, NAP-LOVING, REPTILIAN BUNDLE OF FUN… DOZER! GOTTA SAY, FOLKS, ODDS ARE NARROWING ON THE 'WILL DOZER CONK OUT MIDDLE BATTLE' FRONT; IT'S BEEN WEEKS, AND THIS BITE-HAPPY BEHEMOTH IS STILL WIDE AWAKE!”
As if in demonstration, Dozer opens its jaws to give a belligerent roar.
The Commentator continues to rev up the crowd for a few more seconds. In the meantime, a figure behind them touches their arm, and they appear to confer briefly. Then, the Commentator steps up to the amplifier once more. “AAAAND, THIS IS MY CUE TO LEAVE!”
Noises of mild confusion from the crowd.
“FOLKS OF THE ARENA - BEFORE OUR SECOND CONTENDER IS INTRODUCED, I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE! THE REST OF TODAY'S MATCH WILL BE BROUGHT TO YOU BY A SPECIAL GUEST. FANS, GIVE A WARM WELCOME TO NONE OTHER THAN… DOUBLE TEAM CELEBRITY, PARTNER OF THE EVER-SWOON-INDUCING TORNADO, AND ALL-ROUND NICE GUY - CRABGRAAAASS!”
Sure indeed, out of the shadows steps Crabgrass, to thunderous applause, his signature pink sunglasses sparkling in the light. He takes the Commentator's place by the amplifier.
“Fans of the Arena! Many of you will know me as famous Arena Trainer Crabgrass, one half of the epically attractive and endlessly talented Team Horizon. Tornado - give the crowd a wave!”
The newly orange-haired Tornado, who is standing by his Double Team partner's side, greets the crowd happily, to thunderous applause.
“However, I'm not here as a Trainer today. I'm not even here as a rival contender for the Championship. No.” Crabgrass takes a breath. “Today, I am here… as a loving husband.”
Gasps from the crowd.
“That's right, folks - not only have Thistle and I resolved our longstanding, will-they-won't-they, tension-fuelled rivalry by admitting we are madly in love… we have officially sealed the nuptial deal! Haven't we, my darling cherished beautiful beloved wife…?”
The cheer this elicits from the crowd can hardly be described as a cheer. Rather, it is a deafening, exuberant wall of sound, so loud it is almost palpable. Fans of every stripe go absolutely ballistic at the news, waving handmade Thorn-themed banners with renewed gusto. One man is even crying.
“I always knew it!” rejoices a woman in a Monster-hide hat.
“Best. Day. EVERRRR!” screams a Fan with long, indigo hair.
“Crabgristle is canon! Oh. My. STARS! All this time!”
“Isn't that a conflict of interest as commentator?” asks someone else, who is abruptly hushed.
When Crabgrass says the last part, everybody turns, as one, towards Thistle - who, curiously, appears to be hanging onto a pillar for balance. Her expression could be feasibly interpreted as rapturous, though arguably it is predominantly dazed.
After a second, though, she seems to recover herself.
“Crabgrass!” she calls back, clasping her hands to her chest. “My darling festering weed - so glad you could make it! I wilt like a day-old bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots without you!”
There is a slight, but noticeable slur to her voice.
“Same to you, petal,” says Crabgrass, blowing a kiss. “And so, without further ado… in the left hand corner, we have THOOOOORN! Now, many have suggested that my darling wonderful celestial cherryblossom Thistle may not have been quite prepared for the ramifications of training such a volatile Monster. Caring for this baby clearly takes skill - and doesn't it look a little peaky to you, folks?”
Thorn does indeed look a tad sluggish in its movements. Nonetheless, it is still a hypermassive, lethal thicket of spikes, and it towers over Dozer like a nightmare turned real. Dozer growls. Thorn gives a defiant SCREEEEEEEE.
Thistle mutters something under her breath that sounds like - but couldn't possibly be - 'I'll show you peaky, you pontificating, parasitic growth', and then turns to look up at Crabgrass. As she does so, the half-empty flask of Dr Petrol in her hand becomes discernible. “Beloved! My cherished clump of mouldering compost! Is this fight going to start? Like, at any point in the near future?”
“Right! How forgetful of me! I must have been too busy getting lost in your eyes, sweatpea!”
“Yeah, well, your eyes are so soft and soulful that I just want to rip them out and keep them - sugarplum!”
“Without further ado, folks - Thorn versus Dozer! Let's do this!”
“Don't you just love romance?” coos Tornado, from the crowd.
Dozer plods slowly towards Thorn, trampling weeds underfoot as it goes. Thorn, for its part, sends out a lashing tentacle - but the movement is a little more tentative than usual, and Dozer weathers the blow with ease.
“Looks like it's a slow start for Thorn, folks - but then, this Monster's never been the quickest on the uptake! I wonder if it's ever going to - huh?” Crabgrass breaks off, mid-commentary.
A breeze has begun to stir in the Arena. Dandelion seeds begin to break off and go flying, briefly obscuring everyone's view with puffs of delicate, airborne pieces of fuzz. As the breeze stills and the seeds clear, Crabgrass gives an audible gasp.
“Is that…?”
“Crabgrass!” calls out Thistle, swaying from the stands. She lifts her can of Dr Petrol up to her husband: an impromptu toast. “I had them plant crabgrass for you, my beautiful, hideous, toxic foxglove! I figured my love was just too all-consuming and vast to express with words, so I went for symbolism instead.”
Sure enough, the dandelion seeds have cleared to reveal clumps of literal crabgrass… planted in the shape of hearts.
“What a beautiful gesture, my one and only love!” says Crabgrass, as Dozer begins to swipe experimentally at Thorn. “Symbolism! Your, um. Your Monster's crushing them under its tentacles.”
Thistle looks at Thorn, who has begun to trample the intricately-positioned plantwork. “It's because I have such a crush on you, Crabgrass! I just can't express how much I love and cherish you. So much. Just, the most. It is outrageous how much I adore you. So much that it practically loops back around and becomes a hatred so intense it can never be assuaged.”
“My love for you,” intones Crabgrass, “is so deep it would need major surgery to extract.”
“My passion is more violent than Maximus on a berserker rampage,” replies Thistle.
“So strong that it's virtually corrosive. Also, your Monster's getting beaten up.”
“You are as wise as you are beautiful, my love.”
Crabgrass is exaggerating - Thorn is holding its ground perfectly well - but it is nonetheless not experiencing much success. Dozer has piled on top of several tentacles, pinning it down, and is biting every inch that it can reach. Meanwhile, Thorn has wound its limbs around Dozer's middle, but the strong plate armour is too thick for the spikes to penetrate. The two have each other in a heavy, virtually unmoving deadlock.
Eventually, Dozer manages to push forwards out of its grip. Thorn attempts to fling it out of range but, clearly weakened by whatever is ailing it, it cannot quite manage before Dozer begins to bite at the weak spots underneath its tentacles. Thorn, whose Trainer appears to be too busy making loving strangling gestures at her husband, seems to relent, and slumps down exhaustedly - unharmed, but out of energy.
“Well, I think all in all we can agree that this was a spectacularly poor showing from Thistle, light of my life! It's a good thing I didn't marry you for your fame,” says Crabgrass. “Dozer wins!”
“Oh, buttercup!” replies Thistle, who has spilled Dr Petrol down her front. “I never worried about that - you've already latched onto Tornado like sticky weed, after all!”
“You are as perceptive as you are unsuccessful in this match, beloved.”
“I love you so much I think I might scream!”
“I love you so much I want to marry you all over again!”
“I love you so much that I'd marry you fifty times over!”
“I guess we're doing that, then!”
“I guess we are!”
“Save the date, cause it'll be next week!”
“I'll save every weekend from here to next season!”
“Good!”
“Great!”
“Well done, Thistle!” calls Tornado from the stands. “It was a good try!”
There is some whispering in the commentary box.
“Sorry folks, similar names - That should be Tick, trained by Fatesmith, and Titch, trained by Ash Moon.”
Despite the similarity in names, the monsters are very different - Tick is a small, dog-sized clockwork creation of blades and teeth, whereas Titch is a much smaller furry insectoid creature which glides between the arena props on raised wings.
Creative have put a bit of effort into making this fight look good, to try and attract a crowd into the smaller leagues. There are poles dotted around the arena to give Titch something to glide from, and add to the spectacle, and the floor has been coated in dust which Tick's movements scrape away to leave coloured scores in the arena floor.
As the fight starts, Titch glides from pole to pole, losing height each time, but scrambling to the top of the pole to get another log glide in and close the distance. Tick darts across the arena, making a beeline for the floating bug.
As Tick's jaws begin to whirl, she launches herself upwards to try and snag her opponent - but Titch just barely dodges out of the way at the last second, causing Tick to overbalance and her jaws to scour the arena floor, sending up shreds of metal and stone.
Realising she can't win in the air, Tick begins to systematically shred the poles Titch is using to keep skybound, steadily herding Titch into a smaller and smaller area. Just as it seems that Tick has Titch cornered, Titch glides over, making for a larger patch of poles.
Tick launches herself upwards, and would have made contact and shredded Titch, but the furred glider pulls its wings in at the last second and drops like a stone onto the ground, where it dashes for the next forest of poles. Tick again embeds herself into the arena floor, and by the time she recovers Titch is most of the way to the safety of the poles. However, Titch has not accounted for the speed of the clockwork beetle, whose ticking is so fast that it is a near constant buzz, and the crowd gasps as she shoots lightning fast across the arena floor, and tackles Titch to the ground, jaws whirling at its throat. Titch knows it's beaten, and goes limp.
“TICK WINS!”
Toxtor sits patiently by its gate, eyeing up its opponent.
“And on the other side, the stone sauropod, the limestone lizard, ROCKASAURUS REX!”
The rocky raptor rolls its shoulders, the rumble of an earthquake shaking through the arena as it's neck crack and stretches. Rockasaurus Rex stands easily twice the height of a person, and looks as if it was constructed out of whatever rocks someone could find at the time - a mix of greys, whites, blacks, and rusty reds, all shot through with glowing veins of crystal. At each step the ground underneath it shakes - moreso than would be expected from even it's significant bulk.
As soon as the umpire gives the signal, Rockasaurus Rex charges, each step sending shockwaves across the arena, shattering the various props and set pieces that Creative branch had used to make the arena for this fight. Toxtor just sits there, shifting just enough to avoid being counted out, hunkering down into its shell as Rockasaurus rex closes the distance.
When Rockasaurus Rec lunges to strike, Toxtor's venom-coated jaws dart out and clamp around its legs. The crowd sighs, expecting this fight to be over quickly as the venom does its work… but Rockasaurus Rex is unphased, and it's own jaws crash down.
Unfortunately, it seems that the stone dinosaur has rocks for brains, as it tries to eat the thickest, most armoured portion of Toxtor's shell. While Toxtor's bite was ineffective, Rockasaurus' bite is devastating - shattering its own jaw and sending crystal teeth scattering across the arena. Toxtor gives a slow shrug, then bodychecks the screeching stone predator, knocking it to the floor.
“TOXTOR WINS”
The crowd cheer as out on the Arena flaw, the Howling Terror and Wreckatar pose and show off in the lights, “Yes, Pennythrift Steeple versus Corsair, how do we think they'll fare? I don't know about you but I'm READY FOR THIS - are you??”
The crowd roars its appreciation, and the battle begins. Immediately, Howling Terror charges for Wreckatar, but the giant pangolin curls into a ball and its shiny carapace protects it from the initial onslaught. Sparks fly, however, as the talons on the Howling Terror gouge deep scratches into the armour. The crowd cheer as the razor sharp weapons meet their match and Wreckatar is unharmed, but the experience clearly shakes the beast as it starts moving on the defensive: trying to dodge another attack like that, and keeping its vulnerable eyes clear of the Howling Terror's beak.
A few times Wreckatar takes advantage of a drop in the Howling Terror's own defenses to let through a strike or two to soften Howling Terror up, but Wreckatar is far more defensive and Howling Terror has the aggression. It keeps up its assault, until there's a loud wrenching ripping sound with the Howling Terror's talon making its way through the armour and ripping one of the plates off.
“OUCH! That's a nasty one for Wreckatar! Will Pennythrift's training pay off?”
Wreckatar looks shaken for a moment, but Steeple shouts from the audience “LET'S KEEP THIS VICTORY BALL ROLLING!” and the Monster is filled with determination - it starts punching Howling Terror, winning back some aggression having bided its time, and then as Howling Terror starts scratching, it dodges out of the way and curls into its signature WRECKING BALL move and hurls itself out of trouble. Howling Terror keeps pace, but Wreckatar's training is paying off as it smashes itself sideways INTO Howling Terror, knocking the birdbrain off balance.
Wreckatar seizes the opportunity and lays into the Howling Terror with a series of devastating strikes, until the beast is knocked out cold and Wreckatar is declared “VICTORIOUS!!!”
