Monster Mash: Round 3 - Fatal Four-Way Votes

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys, Girls and those of unspecified gender... welcome to The Monster Mash 199X Fatal Four-Way!

Yes, it's that time of the year again! That glorious moment where we take the four greatest monsters that have battled their way to the top and put them all together for a near-final showdown! Wherever it's the great contenders you know and love, or the rejects who clawed their way back by sheer luck, the Fatal Four-Way is the biggest spectacle of every Monster Mash tournament! Veteran viewers may still remember the climactic tussle of 196X, which - for reasons we're still trying to figure out - somehow resulted in the birth of an entirely new galaxy! Oh, will those wacky Alien Tornadoes ever leave the public imagination...?

...Yes, they will, because they were dumb. And also because that was in the past! Look to the present, sports fans, because the line-up for this year is something to gawp at! All of them were birthed here at GaiaCorp, all of them fought for your amusement, and now they've managed to make their way to the precipice of glory! But who will jump first? Who will chicken out? And who's gonna get turned into giblets by all the others? Only one way to find out, folks, so let's Meet the Monsters!

Clades the Sharktopus
Never let it be said that a loss of limbs could ever keep a champion down! Instead, the Italians commissioned us to replace all of his weak, fleshy tentacles with metallic prosthetic ones. The longest of these two bear extendable laser-blades of the kind he once wielded, whilst the others all contain explosive dart launchers designed to pierce the skin of his enemies. On top of that, he's now been fitted with light-weight nano-carbon armor that should solve the stick problem of him getting cut up a lot during his fights. There's also been whispers of him getting another promotion since his last battle, but we'll have to wait and see about that, won't we?

Daidako the Giant Octopus/Kraken
Okay, Japan, we need to talk. We get that you're happy with Daidako's success. We understand that you want him to represent the country and your company in the best way you see fit. But if you keep dragging him back into your labs so you can keep tinkering with his DNA, then we're going to have to send the SWAT teams to break your kneecaps, because it's just getting silly. And what makes it worse is that we're getting rumors that your planning to increase the amount of human cells in his system - what the hell are you weirdos up to? We swear, if that thing comes back to us knowing how to assemble nuclear reactors, then we'll be charging you for the damages!

Samuel Escardo the Mansquito
So it seems that Samuel has finally found inner peace, able to balance his human rationality and intelligence with his carnivorous insect urges. He's been spending even more time with those monks from Tibet, harnessing an unusual new form of inner energy that our scientists were just on the verge of cracking, and don't you hate it when that happens? But the general gist of it is that, thanks to whatever happened that helped him kill the Mothman, he can now throw fireballs. You know, like in Street Fighter. Also he's a dab hand at martial arts, so don't let him see you carrying any RAID or he'll snap your arm off, quick as a whip.

And introducing...

Tiburon the Mecha Shark
Let's be honest, folks - whilst the idea of entering a shark's head on a tractor would have been hilarious, we at GaiaCorp feel like we need to keep a veneer of professionalism. So we took Tiburon's head and rigged it onto a cyborg body powered by a prototype fusion reactor. We then plated the whole thing in reinforced titanium, added teeth of intermediate alloy steel and loaded the thing up with torpedoes, tracking launchers, electrified dermal armor and a few other sneaky weapons besides. He may be a bit bewildered by what's happened, but the American contender is just happy to be swimming again. Ladies and gentlemen, Mega Shark is dead - long live Mecha Shark!

THE ARENA
That's right, sports fans - we're taking this one to the big leagues! Rather than throwing these four hideous hybrids and savage cyborgs into some random, unsuspecting country and refusing to foot the damage bill, we're hosting this in our very own GaiaCorp ThunderDome! Three times the size of the famous London Olympic stadium, the ThunderDome houses over 180'000 guests and more besides as they cram to see the grand finale to the Monster Mash live and up-close! Sporting a gigantic lagoon for the swimmers, a towering Gladiators-style series of platforms for the flyers and an electrified force-field for the protection of our audience, this is the one place you want to be to view the action!

Oh, and two quick reminders, folks! Voting is now in a tiered style! You simply list the monsters you think have a chance at winning this, in order of your favorite and descending. Think the Big Bar Brawl those Kobbers have, except... better, because this is The Monster Mash. So get cracking, folks!

Second: whoever of these four monsters manages to defeat their opponents has a chance to become the new King of the Monsters! All they have to do is take down the current reigning champions...

Donner und Blitz, the PTERACUDA BROTHERS!

VOTE NOW!

Hail To The King (Part 2)

Fire is the test of gold; adversity, of strong men.
- Seneca the Younger, De Providentia, 5, 9.

Sam had wondered why on earth a place would be called 'Megan's Woe'. 'Woe' wasn't exactly a word he associated with historical place-names, especially concerning military leaders or great battles. 'Triumph' was a good, solid name that could be depended on, conjuring images of conquest and celebration in his mind. 'Folly' was also good, and spoke of madness and stubbornness in the face of impossible odds and crippling setbacks. As adjectives go, 'woe' was kind of overtly poetic, and lacked the powerful dramatic impact the former two did.

Arriving there, though, he could easily see how the name would apply.

"Fucking hell..." the blond swordsman muttered under his breath as he took in the scenery. It wasn't exactly picturesque - certainly not in the traditional sense. Mostly consisting of volcanic rock, the landscape was occasionally punctuated with spurts of superheated water from geysers dotted about the place, topped with wispy plumes of gas leaking from cracks in the earth. The crowning centerpiece of it all, impaled on a massive rocky spire and surrounded by plumes of erupting lava, was what might have been a luxury yacht of some kind but was now a burnt, blackened shell of its former glory. All-in-all, not the ideal vacation spot.

At least it's better than Blackpool, said the inner Nicodemus, but Sam was too busy trying to breathe to laugh at that one. The Grandius had screamed it's head off about the level of poisonous gases in the area before he'd gotten within earshot of the place, and thus he'd had to take out and clean the MantraTech Personal Air Filter he carried with him. He barely used it since the one time he'd had to delve into a poison-filled mine to rescue some workers, but it somehow still worked as well as ever despite the neglect, filtering out all the awful toxins and replacing them with soothing, clean air. At least he wouldn't choke to death here.

But then there were the other, more obvious dangers to deal with. The heat, for instance, was something awful - you couldn't just fry an egg on these rocks, you could cook a three-course dinner! Then the water spurting out of the ground was also an obvious problem, as it would be full of nasty bacteria and viruses as well as being hot enough to remove the skin. And to say nothing of the constant volcanic eruptions going on...

Which is why we left Walter behind, Sam's brain reminded him. This place, apparently the site of a major magical battle in this world's history, wasn't really between them and the next village they had to go to, but he'd been about it being close to their route and had advised them to steer clear of it. Sam would have liked to mention that it was pretty hard to do that when he didn't know where the place was, and his suspicions proved to be right when the grass abruptly died beneath his feet. So he'd left Walter behind with the others whilst he went out and scoured the area for trouble.

It was a decision he was regretting already. In fact, as he leaped away from another blast of superheated gas, he was considering just ditching the exploration and-

"YOU!"

Hail To The King (Part 1)

Sam had wondered what the point of getting out of bed today was.

It had started whilst he was having his breakfast. It had been a quiet, stress-free week so far, full of absolutely nothing to bother him and all day to not be bothered in. Walter was dozing by his lap, still struggling with trying to be a morning dog, and although he'd grown as large as a lion by now the landlord had been strangely reluctant to complain. Things seemed to have finally quietened down, at last as far as the former Destined Hero was concerned, and no longer was life handing him any bum hands for the sake of it's own sick pleasures.

And then the Grandius had started beeping and babbling nonsense about dimensional breaches. Sam's first mistake had been to try and figure out what was going on, despite not understanding hadn't a lick of it - in fact, he hadn't been aware that the Grandius could sense things in other dimensions. Oh, sure, he'd experimented with its safety teleportation feature - Priority Three, to be exact - but he'd never really tested the full capability of it at all. And hey, the disturbance was only a few miles down the road...

Sam's second mistake was initiating Priority Three.

VROP.

And that was how he ended up in the wreckage of a village in a place he didn't recognize, with an equally-confused Walter by his side.

Things got even more confusing when, upon wandering out of the town, Sam located what he assumed were the people of the village, madly evacuating their former homes in a frenzy of panic. All his questioning could get out of them was that something had arrived from seemingly nowhere and trashed the village without breaking a sweat, and it was in the opposite direction he had come from. So Sam made his third mistake of simply flying back the way he'd come, using his newfound powers instead of walking.

It was, admittedly, a lot faster, so he arrived at the massive iron-gray, factory-esque building in a few minutes or so, wondering what on earth it was doing there. And then he ran away from the massive, rapid-firing gun turrets in almost half that amount of time, swearing like a sailor with a stubbed toe. But he'd lingered long enough to notice the familiar symbol plastered on the side - the double-headed, spread-winged crow of the Magpies, the criminal organization who he'd run into on more than one occasion and specialized in... well, being a criminal organization.

So what was it doing here, building factories and raiding towns?

Unfortunately, he never got enough time to figure that out by himself, because then he came face-to-face with a very large army. It was lead by some guy named Caleb, who happened to be the king of that particular piece of country, and had gone up in order to check out reports of super-powered people trampling his villages and ransacking his people. And, of course, when a dude lands in front of you in a pillar of flame, you're not exactly going to ask any questions. Especially when you've already been told about it by the evacuees of that village.

Sam did the sensible thing and surrendered.

He didn't know how long he'd spent in that prison. Not that it was uncomfortable or anything - the food was decent, the cell was comfy, but the chains clearly needed greasing because they chafed like crazy. But the former Destined Hero had no idea what day or the week it was when Walter suddenly prised his door open, took his sleeve in his jaws and lead him out of that camp and across a field or two to a hotel in some other village. On the morning when Walter trotted into his room with the Grandius in his mouth, wagging his tail happily, did he realize that his own dog seemed to know this strange new world better than he did.

So he had no complaints when Walter lead him out of the hotel and through a dozen more miles of countryside. It was here that Sam noticed something very odd indeed about this world - it was like looking at a patchwork quilt up close. One minute, he'd be walking past some farmland, then ten miles later it'd be all steampunk and copper, then farmland again, then early 20th century tech... The blond warrior had a bit of trouble wrapping his head around the whole thing, and wondered just what had happened to get things into such a state.

Eventually, he came to a very large market town, which seemed to be in the middle of a trading convention with a strange civilization of... well, the Grandius translated their name as "Skinweavers", so that was what he was gonna call them. Walter had indicated, by barking, that he ought to have a word with some of these people, and by this time he'd long given up on whatever reasoning the dog had on doing any of this. Also, he was tired, hungry and more than a little fed up with this shit. If the dog wanted him to speak to the scary face-painted tribesmen, then that's what he'd do.

Their first question, when he filled then in on the situation and what he needed, was wherever the local law enforcement could handle the issue. When he told them, in no uncertain terms, that this was extremely unlikely, they decided to take him to their leader instead.

Sam was really starting to regret getting out of bed.

Party Crasher (Belated Valentines Special)

The day had started so well, too.

Stanley didn't know much about Valentines Day, or how it was meant to work, having heard only second-hand reports from the others. But he'd decided that if there was any day that he could take a break from his work to show how much he appreciated Gemma, then that was the day. And if he was going to do that, he was going to do it the best way he possibly could, and in the best way he knew how. Hey, if there was anything he didn't get right, then it'd be the thought that counted, right?

The spot he picked for the picnic was perfect, too - overlooking a lake, the sun in the right position, peace and quiet far away from human habitation. Of course, some of the other hunters had raised eyebrows at his choice, and asked him if he really wanted to go there, but Stan couldn't see why. The place was almost uninhabited! There was no way anything could go wrong with this idea, he was sure of it - and if it did, he'd be more than ready for it.

Well, the day held out when the actual foray began. They reached the place in good time, and Gemma seemed to genuinely marvel at the natural beauty of the place. Stan had laid out the blanket and procured the basket, and the whole thing had proceeded very pleasantly, in the young hunter's opinion. The wine was accepted heartily, the food was complemented and everything seemed set to go absolutely perfectly. There were times where the boy had almost fancied his heart would burst out of his ribs from excitement.

That was when the Brachydios decided to crash the party.

Valentines (with thanks to RubyChao)

"Okay, well... good luck, bro."

That's all the advice Pit ccould give before Dirk, still smirking like a hyaena, strolled out of the house with his package under one arm. With a sigh and a shake of the head, Pit pushed the door shut until the latched clicked, signifying that, for whatever reason, his brother would not be back for a while.

Then he turned and strolled back into the living room, where Utsuho was lounging on the couch.

"Anything on telly?" he asks.

Utsuho shrugs. "Not yet... I think there's a good movie coming up, but it's not on for a while... What was Dirk doing, anyway?" she asks as she looks up at her boyfriend.

"Oh, he's off to deliver his Valentines present to Josephine," is the explanation. "And if I know my bro, which I do, I don't think he's gonna be back for some time..." Pit visibly shudders at this, as if knowing anything that could come from this would not be his definition of "good" at all.

"Oh, Valentine's day!" The Hell Raven perks up at this,eyes shining with interest. "Lady Satori told me about that once, but I don't really know much about it... it's about gifts and stuff, right?"

There is a pause as Pit tries to find the right words.

"Well... it's a bit more than that," he says, at last. "It's about showing that special person how much you care for them. How much they mean to you. And presents are a big part of it, yes, but it's kinda like Christmas in that regard. It's not about the receiving, it's the giving. It's about love." Sappy, yes, but exactly what you'd expect from Peter Angelos at this point, right?

Realization crosses Utsuho's face. "Oh... oh, I get it!" she cries. And then even further realization hits her, causing her to slump rather despondently into the couch. "But... I don't have anything for you, Pit... I didn't think I'd need to get anything so maybe I can go out now and find it if it's not too late?"

The angel gives a reassuring smile. "Sure, it's not too late. Don't worry. And I need to get something too, so... how about we both go, together?"

"Eheheh, thanks! Alright, let's go then!"

And thus, off the two went to get each other that special something.

-------

"Double Flying Cross Slash! NOW!"

The gigantic shere-like robot had already taken plenty of punishment, so when Heaven and Hel''s signature team attack came along it didn't stand a chance. In one fell swoop, the combined strike of Pit's Tiger Claws and Utsuho's boot carved a clean chunk right out of the midsection, obliterating precious wiring and circuitry. With a last, tortured groan, the mechanoid known as Helios toppled backwards, shedding components as it fell, to dash itself to pieces at last as it hit the ground with heavy clang.

Swooping around in a circle, the couple landed side-by-side to admire the wreckage of the latest Bonus Boss to fall victim to their team synergy.

"Whoo! That was pretty fun!" Pit grinned as he punched the air in triumph. "Nice moves, Okuu!"

"Hahaha, thanks!" was Utsuho's response. "You were pretty good yourself, it's nice that we haven't gotten rusty or anything!" With a nod of agreement, Pit led the way out of the room, and were soon exiting the Bonus Boss Pavilion with two free copies of Metroid Prime 3 under their arms - yet another game to add to Pit's ever growing backlog of the things. What had started out as a shopping trip, as one might have guessed whenever Kobbers get involved, had gone a bit off-track.

"...I bet this is a really rare kind of Valentine's thing," added Utsuho, after a moment's silence. "Pretty sure most people wouldn't go fight a dangerous robot to celebrate!"

"That's the Kobbers for you," Pit retorted as he turned to face his fiance, smiling. "We're not 'most people'. And I'm kinda glad we aren't~" he added as he took the opportunity and leaned in for a hug, which Utsuho gladly accepted.

There was a small pause as the two simply enjoyed the moment. And then the raven, remembering something, pulled away.

"So, um..." she tried. "This might sound awkward after we just had our date thing but... Can we still get some chocolate?"

 "Of course, Okuu."

-------

Meanwhile...

 

As the saying goes, that's our Dirky!

Hangover

The first sign that I'm awake is the volume of the television in my room.

"-has been found in an alleyway close to the Triden National Park. Forensic experts have been unable to identify the cause of death, but say that some sort of animal was definitely involved. Clark Wayne reports live from-"

It's enough to make me snap my eyes open, fright coursing through my body. Then I have to shut them again because the light from the screen is too bright, and the pounding headache is the second sign that I'm awake. Really you'd think it'd be the first one, since it is a planet-sized hangover and everything, but I suppose it was waiting to introduce itself after I heard the T.V. come on. Hangovers can suck like that. Makes you wonder why people bother with alcohol at all.

With a groan, I sit up in bed, but that only makes the pounding worse. There's a lot of questions in my head right now, all buzzing for attention, but the one that manages to barge it's way in front is "how much did I drink last night?" See, I have literally no tolerance for alcohol whatsoever - one shot of rum and vodka is enough to get me reeling - and I remember one of my flatmates managed to coax me into going out partying last night. But that's all I can remember clearly - the rest is a complete blur, so I know I must have gotten drunk at some point. Part of me wonders how much of it went up on Facebook or whatever.

I reach up to nurse my forehead, and two things make me freeze in horror. The first is the dried blood flaking off my fingers in shards and fluttering to the bedsheets. If I were anyone else, maybe I would have assumed I had some kind of accident, but instead I drop my hand to my mouth and yep, there's more around my lips and on my chin. Some of it even migrated up to my cheeks, and I have to boggle at how it got there.

The second, as I turn my head, flashes up on the television.