This is Connor Hardy, offical commentator of The Monster Mash, reporting to you live from over the Pacific Ocean as it happens...
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Section K. It's the one part of the Pacific Ocean where sailors fear to sail, where swimmers fear to swim and fishermen fear to - yeah, you get the idea. Like a jelly that's still umming and ahing over the whole settling in the dish thing, the floor of this particular stretch of sea is constantly shifting and breaking apart, splitting open in some places and bulging in others. The net result is a boiling cauldron of superheated water and obsidian corals that occasionaly bears witness to spectacular underwater volcanoes bursting like the acne-filled spots of a nervous teenager preparing for his first date, and the sea floor is littered with the corpses of noble vessels that were caught in the churning, frothing malestrom of such an eruption. It is no place for any sensible sailor.
Yet it is here that the sight of a mighty face-off is occuring, takiing up an area of at least sixteen Olympic stadiums or more. A bubbling mass of storm-beaten ocean is encapsulated in a ring of mighty ships, each of them specialy designed to weather the foul conditions of this dreaded patch of water. On the one side, the sleek white fishing boats of Sakana Co., the Second Japanese Empire's most profitable fishing company to date. On the other, the gunmetal grey hulks that comprise the New United Kingdom's finest naval Dreadnaughts, spewing black smoke from their chimneys. The opposing fleets are as contrasting as the countries they serve - a rutheless, war-hungry monarchy against a stifling utopia of captialism and cutesy catgirl mascots.
But the ships have not gathered here to make Section K a battleground. No, their unusual formation is for a different reason entirely - it's to grant them the best views of the spectavle that is about to unfold here in the name of high ratings and global publicity.
On the deck of the Dako Maru, the fastest of Sakana Co.'s fishing boats, the lanky yet scarred form of Admiral Tetsuo Yamamoto raises a hand to the microphone strapped to the side of his head. At the same time, on the control bridge of HMS Hyperion, the oldest ship in Britain's command, Admiral Arthur Winbledon Ponsby Jr. III brushes his bushy mustache aside and turns to his officers.
"Begin."
The Hyperion's prow cranks open like the gaping maw of some iron Hippo With An Eating Disorder on the rampage, and a roaring black shape plunges into the heaving black water. At the same time, a bow wave surges up behind the Dako Maru, reavling a glimpse of mottled orange flesh before diving down beneath the ship to enter the ring of waiting boats.
Hope you have your popcorn ready, sports fans...
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Beneath the turbulent waves, bulging yellow eyes squint as Daidako the Giant Octopus peers through waters made murky by disturbed silt and columns of black smoke spewed by the earth itself. The mammoth mollusc is all too familiar with this territory - it is one of the few places where the megashoals regularly gather after the spawning season, thus providing a bounty for the fishing boats above it. It's hyper-advanced brain flips through carefully-sorted memories of herding the multicoloured masses of fish like some great sheepdog of the sea, corralling the shoals with it's tentacles for it's human masters to scoop up in their nets. It's a place of work, and also a place of danger for the unprepared and unwary.
But this is not the time for reminiscing. The colossal cephalopod knows why it is here, and it's mutant mind is geared for what it is to come. There is an interloper in these waters, something horrible dredged up from ancient times, trying to lay claim to the position of apex predator in this patch of ocean. A challenge that cannot go unignored. And Giant Octopus knows that before this day is out, either it or this intruder will be sinking to the bottom of the ocean as a bloodied corpse, to be claimed by the raging volcanoes beneath or to join the wreckage of lost ships as food for the hagfish. It will be a long and difficult battle, but Japan's Greatest Mascot thinks he can do it.
It continues to swim forward, tentacles trailing behind it like supersized streamers, eyes scanning the water. But the visibility of the water is abysmal - the clouds of volcanic smoke make it murky as all fuck, and the constant rumble of cracking, shifting earth and the occasional ship breaking apart makes it difficult for Daidako to hear the telltale swish of water that would betray an opponent.
So it doesn't notice the multi-ton missile of scales and flesh until it rams it from below and sends it bowling through the ocean.
Centurion the Dinoshark is, to be blunt, fucking bewildered. This is not the ocean it remembers. The niggling little voice that forms racial memories speaks of clear, sunlight waters teeming with tasty food and possibly attractive mates, of long migrations to far-flung coral reefs and chases after shoals of primitive dolphins. But after the indignity of being shut up in a stifling black box and uncerimoniously thrown out of it again, it's trapped in a near-opaque mass of boiling smoke and cracking, glowing earth with nary a fish or coral in sight. So when it caught the scent of prey in the water, the prehistoric predator latched onto that like a goddamned lifeline attached to a rubber ring and followed it through the murky waters until it caught the flash of orange. And it went for it.
But a snarl of frustration escapes the saurian swimmer as it's teeth miss the octopus' juicy flesh by mere millimetres, armoured head merely shoving the mollusc aside like a speeding truck casually knocking a people carrier aside as it speeds down the motorway. With a beat of it's tail, Britain's Triassic contender banks through the boiling water to face it's intended foe, beady eyes locked onto the insidious inverterbrate as it readies itself for another body-breaking charge. What it finds is that, despite the scours in it's jelly-like body from the sharp scales, Daidako has already twisted to face the reptillain intruder, tentacles spread wide in a classic "come at me bro" gesture. Now that the mammoth mollusc has found its enemy, it's not going to become calamari so easily.
Dinoshark and Giant Octopus charge.
The next thing the watchers on the ships know, the water explodes like a birthday cake when it suddenly decides to vomit up the stripper your dorm mates all poured their savings into hiring. But the sight before the two admirals of the opposing countries is anything but alluring - two primeval forces of natures locked together in a bitter struggle, writhing in midair as they try to gain purchase on each other. Then, with the played-out slow-motion glory those fucking Matrix films have instilled into the mainstream media, the oceanic overlords topple back into the ocean, sending up a billow of spray and a mighty wave that rocks fighing ship and dreadnaught alike, causing their commanders to stagger and clutch at the supports to stop themselves going overboard.
Beneath the waves, it's like what one would get if one decides to hold an anti-gravity wrestling match in the middle of a nuclear war. The two monsters roll and revolve in the churning, boiling water, each seeking the leverage they need to get the advantage over the other. The Dinoshark has it's jaws locked around the midsection of the mollusc's body, fangs dangerously close to an eye, but it's razor-sharp teeth can't get a better grip on the spongy flesh. The Giant Octopus, meanwhile, has got the triassic tyrant in a deathgrip with it's tentacles, but it's beak is unable to find a chink in the armoured hide. The two beasts have reached a stalemate, and all around them the ocean itself rages along to the force of their battle.
But Centurion is blinded with anger and bloodlust, his primitive brain shouting kill kill kill over and over like a passive-agressive broken record, and in his throes of rage he has left himself open. Despite the pain from the teeth in his face and the scales cutting into his limbs, Daidako is quick to notice that the British behemoth has had to twist it's neck around in order to get the correct bite angle to hold on, leaving the tender throat exposed. And it's that exposre that the Japanese contender quickly takes advantage of - with the speed of a coked-up cheetah on energy drinks that only a human-octopus hybrid can achieve, a tentacle quickly winds itself around the saurian seagoer's neck and tightens.
The Dinoshark chokes in surprise as it's air supply is cut off, and it releases it's grip on the oversized octopus' body as it writhes to get free. Fatal mistake - the next thing that happens is that Daidako quickly adjusts it's grip, changing position to mount itself on the reptile's back and wind several more tentacles around the frantically snapping jaws. A gargling roar comes as the prehistoric predator find's it's entire mouth being forced even wider open - the mammoth mollusc is trying to pull a King Kong and snap Centurion's jaw in two, ending the conflict as soon as it started.
Viewing the conflict through their shaky, static-filled underwater cameras, the two opposing countries reaction's could not be more different. On the one hand, the Japanese fishermen are whooping with glee and high-fiving, esctatic that their mollusc mascot is literally snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. On the other, the British naval forces watch apprehensively, quietly begging their saurian superweapon to pull through and give that confounded octopus what for. At least a decade of miliraty pride is riding on Centurion's victory - to lose now would be a disgrace to the might of Mother Britannia, and bloody embarrasing as well.
Centurion bucks and struggles, desperate for oxygen. Daidako clings on, tightening it's grip. The volcanic terrain roars and belches fire as if revelling in the sheer primeval anger in their combat. The moment is so tense one could cut it with a knife.
The tension is broken with a sudden wet tearing noise.
If the Giant Octopus could scream with pain, it would. All it can do, however, is widen it's eyes as the Dinoshark reveals that a predator's brain does not mean stupidity, but hidden bestial cunning. With a mighty wrench, the seagoing saurian has snapped it's mouth closed, fanged maw biting through the ensaring limbs that held it's mouth open and ripping them from their sockets like a fat man ripping the crust from his favourite takeaway pizza. Reeling from the pain, the mammoth mollusc reflexively releases it's grip, and the triumphant reptile speeds away into the murky waters, gulping down it's meaty prize and leaving it's foe to trail blood as it hangs in the water from shock.
On the Dako Maru, Tetsuo groans with frustration as his fishermen curse with rage, calling Centurion the worst epiphets their native tongue can conjure. On the HMS Hyperion, Arthur breaths a sigh of relief as his officers cheer for their prehistoric pugilist, with equal amounts of racist insults thrown at Daidako.
Under the water, Daidako quickly recovers from the shock of the attack. Blood trickes into the water from the ripped tentacles as the collosal cephalopod twists this way and that in the water, bulging eyes seeking out the British Behemoth and pay it back for disarming it in such a backhanded manner. But again, what with all the choking columns of smoke and flashes of volcanic activity, it's like trying to find a flatmate in the middle of a dry-ice rave and your phone just ran out of battery. The Japanese contendor knows Centurion could be anywhere, hidden within the smoky water, and it twists in every concievable direction in search of it's foe, eyes rolling madly as it tries to find the reptile.
The blow comes from below.
The next thing that happens is pain. Pain beyond the genetically-enhanced mollusc's whildest nightmares as the Dinoshark's tooth-studded maw locks around the bulging head. Blood spurts into the water as the teeth punch through the soft flesh almost to the brain, and then the world blurs as the seagoing saurian shakes it's captive back and forth like a dog worrying an old ball that was last year's big Christmas present. Of all the things the Giant Octopus would have been ready for, actuvely using the smoke vents to camoflague yourself was something he, strangely enough, didn't prepare for. Maybe we didn't use enough human stem cells...
Then a lurch, and the mammoth mollusc is launched from Centurion's mouth, careening through the bloing water until it hits something with a brain-shaking crunch. The Japanese contender has been thrown into the side of a wrecked whaling ship - one of the many unfortunate victims of Section K's rampant volcanic activity - and the impact has just bent the thing almost in half, cradling the stunned sea monster like a giagantic iron taco. Which is just as well, for the entire thing is balanced precariously on a ridge, and a cursory glance down reveals a massive fissure, growing wider by the second and spewing lava and fire as though the planet's had one vindaloo special too many from the local takeaway.
Roaring in triumph, Centurion beats his tail and streaks towards his downed foe, jaws agape. His nostrils are full of blood and his tongue tastes victory, which tastes a lot like deep-fried calamari. The Giant Octopus's eyes widen in horror as the prehistoric predator speeds out of the gloom, and his eyes dar this way and that in search of some way to turn the tide of the battle. But between his own aching body and the flaming chasm below him, it seems impossible to escape from the inevitable crunching.
Both armardas watch as Britain's Greatest Weapon speeds towards Japan's Greatest Mascot...
With lightning reflexes that would make an Olympic athelete rend his shirt in weeping jealousy, Daidako rips a harpoon cannon from the deck of the whaler and pulls on the firing mechanism. By a complete fluke, the cannon still functions - and the razor-sharp projectile hurls itself through the water and punches through Centurion's skull as if it were paper, punching a neat hole right through the reptile's brain.
Open mouthed, an expression of shock in it's clouding eyes, the corpse of the Dinoshark stalls in the water, blood puring from it's parted jaws. And as the British scream with rage on their boats and pull their moustaches off, their recently-deceased champion slowly sinks into the gaping maw of Section K, engulfed utterly by the firey eruption that surges forth to consume not only the reptile, but the wrecked whaler as well.
In severe pain, all three hearts beating on overdrive from adrenaline but nontheless relieved, Daidako speeds away from the conflagration to join it's masters, who at this very moment nare throwing a party in honour of their finest fisherman this side of the Pacific.
WINNER: GIANT OCTOPUS!
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Woah, what a fight that was, Sports Fans! Rest assured that more astounding brawls will be forthcoming as Round 1 continues, with more exciting entries from all over the world! Those who were brave enough to bet, go collect your winnings from your local betting booth, and don't forget to check out our licensed Daidako merchandise from your local retailers, in honour of our first victor!
Tune in next time for THE MEGA MELEE IN MALIBU, where a whole lot of tourists get chomped and a whole lot of slum villages get flattened, only on THE MONSTER MASH!
WHOOOO! Gosh, it feels like old times, except my guy won! Monster Mash is going places. That's my prediction.
ReplyDeleteWhat the- Stag Beetle, quit trying to bite the monitor, you little git. I'm sorry you mispredicted this one, but them's the breaks.
Told you he'd win! I'm always right, except for every time I'm not.
ReplyDelete