Sorry, sports fan, but we forgot to tell you about Donner und Blitz, the PTERACUDA BROTHERS.
They're the current reigning champions of the Monster Mash circuit,
having held the position for at least three years now, and they're not
about to let some jumped-up newbie take their hard-earned glory away
from them. Shrieking like banshees who've been tasered in the scrotum,
the triphibian terrors circle the arena airspace, gnashing their
horrible teeth, before diving down towards their prone prey... We now return to your egularly scheduled program...
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...
Pit turned, recognizing the voice. "Hmm?" he responded, his mouth full of roast meat.
He was promptly greeted by the hulking figure of Great Uncle Kain - all seven feet of him. Tawny wings rustled as his distant relative adjusted his position in his seat. Muscles like steel cable rippled as he leaned over inquisitively and gestured with the flagon of ale in one meaty paw.
"Your brother," he rumbled, and his voice was like the Giant's Causeway had learned to speak. "He is not here?"
"Nhmmm, hmm-" Pit checked himself and swallowed. "No, he's back in Manhattan. He's spending Thanksgiving with his girlfriend."
"Ah," came the response, followed by a wry grin. "I think I have heard of her. The one with the nice arse?"
At this, Pit found himself biting back a shudder of horror. "Yes, Uncle. That one."
"Well, you just tell him his Great Uncle Kain wants a rematch!" And with a chuckle, the huge angel went back to his meal. Pit actually did shudder this time, recalling the incident of last year's thanksgiving where an arm-wrestling competition got out of hand. Thank goodness Dirk had sworn off the alcohol until Christmas. Now he needed a distraction to take his mind off of that.
And as luck would have had it, there was one right next to him. To his left, Utsuho was busy chowing down on some roast boar - her third helping that day. This hadn't really come as a surprise, especially not to the angels, for half of the Angelos extended family was renowned for their prowess at the dinner table. Leaning over, Pit gave the Hell Raven a tap on the shoulder to get her attention.
"Enjoying yourself, Okuu?" he asked, cheerily. She looked up from her food at him, smiling back in response.
"Yep! It's been pretty fun so far, and it's been pretty nice to meet your family! Good food, too!" she added, taking another bite of boar's leg.
Pit grinned to see his girlfriend's appetite - it certainly exceeded his own. "Only the best, that's what Auntie Deidre says! Of course, everyone else pitches in as well, but who do you think cooked that boar you're eating?"
"I dunno," shrugged Utsuho. "I haven't met everyone yet! Then again, I'm guessing it's your aunt..." Here, she took a pause in order to take a drink - most of it was alcoholic, of course, because Irish Angels had a bad habit of drinking little else. It was rather gratifying for Pit to know that his fiancee had no problems with it, and he merely watched as the Hell Raven gulped down quite the amount of cider.
"She was pretty nice, at least!" she continued once she'd put her mug down. "Has she always been doing this?"
"Pffft, since she got married, at least. But she always enjoys doing it, and it shows."
Just then, there was a commotion from the head of the table, involving a lot of people shushing other people. This was because a certain somebody had stood up, obviously wanting to give a speech about the event or something, and lots of shushing was the only way to get people to shut up. Especially if that person was Godfather Rafferty, the richest angel in existence, with more businesses and hired goons to his name than Alan Sugar.
The elderly angel surveyed the hallway as the talk and clink of cutlery died down. Then he cleared his throat and, obviously having memorized his speech before, began.
"Friends and family, if you came here expecting my usual spiel, prepare to be disappointed. I am here to congratulate my godson, Pit, on proposing to his new girlfriend, who has the honour of being with us today on this occasion..."
The speech continued in this usual vein - Rafferty was nothing if not gifted with words. Most of it consisted of the sort of praise and cheap jokes one would find in a best man speech, although nobody seemed to mind. In fact, most everyone was in that state of drunkenness where even the dumbest joke is funny, and even Pit had to hold back a chortle when a lame crack about "holding down the B button" was made. It was a good speech, overall, and as was the way with anything Rafferty did it was brisk and to the point.
Especially the ending bit.
"...and I would like to finish by advising my godson - if you don't wear protection on the night, I'll send my boys over to skin you alive. Enjoy tonight!"
The mass of angels around the tables erupted into cheers and applause - and more besides. With a dignified air and a wry smirk, Godfather Rafferty folded away his cue cards and sat back down, magpie-patterned wigs folding casually behind his back. Glasses, flagons and more were raised in toasts, and in a trice the drinking and feasting had resumed as if no speeches had been made at all. That was the beauty of angel celebrations - once a point had been made, there was no unnecessary lingering on it. Things got back to the way they were, with the assumption everyone had taken it on board.
At his own table, sensing a little discomfort from Utsuho, Pit leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder.
"He doesn't mean it, you know," he offered. "Godfather's filthy rich, yeah, but he's not really a mafia boss. At least, I hope not!"
To his relief, Utsuho shrugged, seemingly unaffected. "Heh, I don't think they'd win a tangle with me! Explosive nuclear powers! Although we probably don't need to worry anyway, right?"
"Of course not!" Relaxing, Pit took a quick swig of cider before clarifying: "He doesn't mean anything by it, we all make jokes like that here!"
"Oh, cool! I bet I could think of a joke or two like that then!
"...Maybe later, though," the Hell Raven added, a little awkwardly. "I don't have anything right now actually..."
Pit shrugged at this, smiling genially. "Hey, no problem! If it makes you feel any better, I haven't got a speech prepared at all. It's not like they expect you to give one, anyway."
"Oh, well, that's good to know!" There was a small pause as the couple ate in silence. To Pit's right, Uncle Kain started getting rowdy, bellowing demands for more cider despite efforts from other cousins to shush him.
"...So," Utsuho ventured, "how many more people are speaking, anyway?"
Pit paused to consider this. "Well... Godfather always does one, then I think my mom occasionally does. And then somebody from the older parts of the family... but really," he finished with another shrug, "not many people in my family are good at those, so only like two or three more people."
Utsuho nodded, understanding. "Hmm, alright then! I'm kinda looking forward to seeing what's after all these speeches. And you still need to introduce me to your parents after them, too!" Oh, yeah. That was still a thing.
"No problem. I'm sure they'll love you! Almost as much as I do~" Pit added, smiling hugely.
Utsuho turned very red at that.
"You sure about that? I'd be surprised if anyone can love me quite as much as you! Even Lady Satori doesn't seem that affectionate, ehehehe...
In response, Pit put down his food, leaned over and gave his fiancee a massive hug.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
Smiling, she hugged back.
And later that day, Cousin Monroe pulled out her usual technological wizardry and the dance floor was set up in no time. Traditionally, the head of the family lead the dancing, but the news of Pit getting hitched had spread so thoroughly around the gathering, the young couple were the ones who took the first dance together. Everyone clapped and cheered as they took the lead on that one Dirty Dancing song that always gets played, and not even a drunken Uncle Kain clotheslining Cousin Boris through the nibbles table could dampen the evening.
Image byTheLolliepopWolf, courtesy of Draco
Pit felt so warm inside, he had to try very hard not to burst into flames.
(Major thanks to RubyChao for helping me with this!)
Boys, girls and those of indeterminate gender, welcome back to The Monster Mash 199X!
And... let's be honest, we're not looking forward to this one. We're getting reports of a lot of wanton destruction going on in downtown Beijing, and everyone at GaiaCorp is praying to gods we don't believe in that it's just another Muto, and not what we think it is. But considering our luck, it's more than likely Mothman, and it's also more than likely that our other contender is going to find him and a battle is going to start. And since that's what you guys want, we're obliged to broadcast it live anyway, regardless of the immense loss of life on the horizon.
Ugh, alright. Here it is.
Connor Hardy here, trying not to shit myself as we go live to the action...
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, sports fans and haters, welcome back to The Monster Mash 199X!
And boy, do we have a real humdinger of a battle this time, folks! In fact, our stock market guys are telling us that people will be recording this one three times over just so they can watch it with their friends every week! Tonight's battle of beasts sees us traveling to the heart of the American Everglades, a once-rich national park now reduced to a barren, blood-soaked battlefield as rival gangs battle it out for priceless blood diamonds and an invasive species makes snacks of every faction. Will Clades, the hero of the Greco-Roman Empire, take the win for his country and masters? Or will Mann Co.'s Ol' Fangs secure the domination of these resource-rich territories? Whatever the outcome, you can't deny that it's going to make great television!
Buckle up, viewers, and bring your mosquito nets, because it's time for...
Connor Hardy, reporting from the safety of his helicopter as it happens!
So, this is it. RP for 2013 is finally over, and we're off into the golden age of next year. And the best way to enter next year, as always, is arse first with eyes drunken gazing back on the events that have passed. Pairings have formed, controversies were had and jokes were laughed at, but as always there are hidden secrets - things that were considered to occur in RP but never panned out, for one reason or another. And depending on the number of characters involved, the amount of unused stuff varies.
And so, in post-RP tradition, and also in celebration of this being my 100th post on this blog, I would like to present the Steel Komodo Season 3 Cutting Room Floor, full of ideas and stuff that never got used for one reason or another. Hey, it's not Monster Mash, but at least it's something!
1) Section Zero refers to a place in Rutledge where the worst mutants are kept. In pain, insane and dangerous to themselves and others, they're hidden away in padded cells until a cure can be found for their condition. Robbie actually came from Section Zero - his psychic powers are actually quite deadly, despite being a shadow of what the Observer could do, and his cell was specially designed to dampen them in case he went as crazy as the others did. How did Daniel and Carol get him out? He's the only one allowed out for a few hours every day, so he can have a walk and stuff. Also, they give him Sparkle, which is a kind of depressant that some residents began making out of the wild mushrooms that grow outside Rutledge. Sometimes they give it to Section Zero inmates to stop them braining themselves against their cell walls.
There was also a sequence planned where, via UTG or sifter or whatever, some guys would have visteted Rutledge, probably because Robbie got kidnapped. You'd have learned a bit about how things worked there, and met the priest guy and stuff. Also, there was going to be a parody of this song when the mutants of Section Zero tell the Kobbers to take Robbie and GTFO.
2) The guy who runs Rutledge is a priestly guy who is partly based on Gill from Street Fighter 3. He's hoping that, somehow, he can find a way to make the mutants he has in his asylum to rebuild society, which is why I mentioned the activities Carol and Daniel did. His power is twofold - with one hand, he can awaken dormant memories or implant knowledge in a person's mind, and with the other he can either delete meories or edit current ones to make people forget. That second power is the most dangerous one, and he knew it, so he always gave people the choice, when it came to it. He didn't want to risk doing something he'd regret, with powers like that.
And yes, that power was themed on the Truth vs. Ideals thing Reshiram and Zekrom had going on.
3) I was gonna showcase Crusoe's "true" form at some point, but the best I could do was make a shitty recolour of Bills from Battle of Gods. So I said "fuck it" and never used it, because with Daniel's appearance being based on fanart of Bardock we already had enough DBZ.
4) Three Fears that never turned up due to the change in setting where the Plague Doctor, an eccentric old spirit of disease and plague who cared more about alien biology than winning the Grand Game, the Grotesque, a living embodiment of nightmares that would have most likely attacked someone in their sleep in the form of a nightmarish carnival, and the Deep, the Father of Fears who is actually either Poseidon or Jormungand. There was going to be an amusing scene with him where he invited visitors for tea and scones.
There was also going to be an appearance by the Quiet, the Fear of Nothing that is fated to wipe out all life on Earth after the War of the Fears occurs. There was going to be an end-game sequence after defeating Slender Man, where the Quiet turns up and thanks the Kobbers for preventing what was basically Armageddon. But I was so tired after doing the final battle I just said "fuck it" and didn't bother.
5) Swain and Mr. Scars were going to have bigger roles, but that didn't pan out due to time constraints.
6) Originally, the Killer Instinct character was going to be Sabrewulf, searching for a cure to his lycanthropy. I had been looking forward to writing scenes with him interacting with Lyall, and he would have eventually acquired the cybernetic arms from KI2 at some point.
7) While not mentioned in the Mega Post, Firebrand and Persolus spent some time recuperating on the ZFS before returning to Earth. They were also waiting for the heat to die down after Gorr'Rylaehotep and Barghest got so soundly trounced - the Fears would have been mighty suspicious after that.
8) I was originally also going to have a go at the Red Cap, but if you looked her up you'll know why I didn't do it. I also felt it would have been trying too hard to recapture the essence Dirk pre-taming - there isn't much that can capture that particular spark.
9) Concerning Dirk's book plot, it was actually going to be longer. Richard Longshore would have sued Dirk for attempted libel, and it would have lead to a courtroom scene that would have properly cemented the centaur author as a dick and a money-hungry egotist - a kind of mirror-universe Dirk mixed with General Cleft. This was also an opportunity for Dirk to call him out (i.e. quote more Nostalgia Critic) and end the plot on a more desicive finale instead of the off-hand newspaper review I had to do.
10) "Barghest" was an extremely last-minute name for Black Dog's entry into the Halloween Brawl. I could have used the names given in those documents, but I wanted to be a bit more creative. Also, those documents on Fears (at least, Black Dog's and Slender Man's) were actually written a long time ago out of boredom - I didn't anticipate CW and Harpy would actively go looking them up.
11) On the subject of those documents, there was a heavily encoded .zip file in there labelled "HABIT". I'm kinda glad you guys didn't open that one.
Basically, it refers to the character of HABIT from EverymanHYRBID. In ZFRP, Habit would have been one of Slender Man's servants, but not a Proxy - he was a guy with serial killer tendancies possessed by a Jigsaw/Hannibal Lecter-ish demon thing. Collectively known as Habit, they were a wild card in the Collective, and what hints I would give in the files lead to the conclusion that they are either dead for some reason or missing. One certain thing was that he was exiled from the Collective for... some reason or other.
12) There was a sequence planned where the Monster Hunters would have faced of against Dire Miralis. Who is basically the Monster Hunter equivalent of Satan. Alatreon was gonna play a bigger role as well, but then Stan got tied too much to the Society and the plot.
13) The plot point about Rock suffering a memory overload from absorbing weapon data from living beings was gonna be bigger, but there were so many plot things on my hands right now that I didn't want to do it. Also, I was totally going to pull a "Babe the Sheep Pig" and have Rock ask Sine if it was okay for him to call her mom. But I didn't do it because... I didn't want to.
14) Jewel Man was the only Robot Master I was sure of sending up on the outset. Guts Man and Plug Man were the result of a lucky Random.org roll. On the subject of Jewel Man, I was going to defy the stereotype and make him just flamboyant but straight, using his girlish mannerisms to mess with people's heads. But then I lost some brain cells to cider and now he's a horrible characature.
15) There was a bit after Chaosplot where Stan idly mentions tasting copper. If you paid attention in school, you'd know that's one of the first symptoms of an impending heart attack. I was gonna put Stan in peril, for once, so Gemma could be the one saving the day, but then I completely forgot all about the plot. No excuses of tiredness or alcohol here, I just completely forgot it was going to be a thing.
16) Also, to clarify, Robbie is a future version of the Observer, rendered powerless and amnesiac by the Cleansing - the event where the Quiet wipes out life to stop the Fears from fucking everything up. By being exposed to Robbie, the Observer became aware of what was going to happen and the change in timeline that was to occur. He had a plan to pull a Starscream and gain Gorr'Rylaehotep's powers for himself, to try and prevent the War of the Fears, but of course that didn't pan out.
And so there you go. Stuff that didn't make it into ZFRP, or was pushed aside for something else. Hope you enjoyed reading this, and if not then you can simply chase the memories away with a stiff drink. Kind of like what I'm doing right now :U
Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Fans and Haters, THE MONSTER MASH 199X IS BACK!
And this time, we've got something special planned for you all! Instead of waiting for every blood-soaked brawl to come to it's conclusion before setting up the next round of votes, our crack-team of market researches has suggested a SEMI-FINAL SPECIAL to get the crowds hyped! For a limited time only, viewers can now vote on all three of these epic fights coming to your screens very soon, decreasing the downtime between setting up battles! And if you vote right now, you'll get a discount on all GaiaCorp brand products and services, wherever online or at our lisenced merchandising booths! So what are you waiting for - grab your voting slips, size up our surviving competitors and give us your money!
Fight 1: Giant Octopus vs. Mega Python - The Tussle in the Tethys
Daidako hasn't been seen on duty since his battle with Centurion several months ago. His place in the fishing fleets appears to have been taken by a horde of smaller octopi - cheaper to produce but nowhere near the skill level shown by Sakana Co.'s finest creation. Then a business trip revealed something quite nasty; not satisfied with the our original blueprint, the Japanese government went ahead and performed their own gene-splicing, adding DNA samples from what they believe is a frozen sample of the legendary Kraken into the already-confused chemical soup of their mascot's genetics. They've promised the resulting combination, given time to grow and mature, will bring greater brainpower and tactical genius into the field. We merely retreated to our bunkers with bottles of water and baked beans.
Raja's been living even more like a king since his victory over Tiburon in his debut battle. Actually, he's been elveated to the title of God-Emperor ever since the previous one passed away of a sudden and completely coincidental heart attack, we swear. And while one would think a giant snake would not make a very good political figure, Mega Python has been astounding us with his sudden powers of psychic insight and skills at debating. He's already tackled issues on healthcare, crime and homelessness with startling finess, and political enemies are a non-issue - someone has to be sacrificed whenever he cuts a ribbon, after all. The holy order that tends to his every whims claims he has absolutely no worries about the upcoming competition, but considering we haven't actually seen him training, we're taking that with some salt.
Fight 3: Sharktopus vs. Gatoroid - The Encounter in the Everglades
Since his victory in Malibu, Clades has been promoted to the rank of Praefectus Castrorum,which basically translates to "cushy barracks and fancy food". As a precaution against the ever-increasing strength of enemy military forces and as a means to get an edge over the conbatants, the Greco-Roman Senate has ordered that Sharktopus be equipped and trained in the latest military weaponry. The orders to prepare for Round 2 came at a crucial stage in the training, and it's feared their champion may not have come to grips with his weaponry in time - all he's carrying right now is the standard infantry weaponry of a laser sabre, an explosive javellin, a dagger and a shield with a concealed machine gun. But there's a whole country's worth of swamp diamonds on the line, so of course they're staying in the competition despite the risks.
Gatoroid, meanwhile, has been undergoing a strict exercise regime on orders from the higher-ups at Mann Co. Every morning he gets up to have a wrestle with his owner Saxton Hale, adding yet another bruise or scar to his proud collection of wounds. Every afternoon is spent undergoing a tough regimen of push-ups, track running and pulling loaded freight barges with naught but his front teeth. And every night, he is treated to an entire warehouse's worth of raw, bloody meat mixed with performance-enhancing drugs and mild hallucinogens to increase his agression. Mr. Hale himself has made the bet that if his pet loses the semi-finals he will give everyone who voted for the shark a free hat. And we love free hats, right?
Fight 4: Mothman vs. Mansquito - The Brawl in Beijing
Samuel Escardo, formerly known as Mansquito, has been sighted in various territories since his destruction of Dinocroc. While reports are sketchy at best, it would seem that he has been heading in an easterly direction over the course of several months, heading towards the Communist China territories via wing, foot and train. Trajectory calculations made by our geographists and communications officers made a wild stab at his intended destination - the mountain ranges of Tibet, now host only to the various religious orders that have fled to escape persecution from the cruel hand of the new dictator to step into the throne. Someone suggested perhaps he's looking for enlightenment to his purpose by paying a vist to the monks and spending some time meditating, and then we punched him in the throat for being a twat. But we can't help but wonder...
Mothman? Don't fucking ask us. The less we see of that thing, the better. We've been getting scattered reports of it turning up at various conflicts - the War of Independance in Vietnam, the Red Sqaure Riots in Russia after the victory of Private Spinneret, the Boston Birthday Bash... but fuck that. It's all rumours and speculation and internet conspiracy theorists whining about aliens and shit. As far as we care, it's gone, vanished, crawled back into the slimy pit that was it's-
Welcome, Sports Fans, to the final battle in The Monster Mash 199X's Round 1!
And what a slobberknocker this fight is going to be, folks! To celebrate 50 years of GaiaCorp bringing questionable science to the globe, we're staging the battle of the ages on our home turf of sand, sea and sun - an ironic framing device for the carnage and political raspberry-blowing about to take place! Tell us, dear fans - did you ever lie in bed at night, wondering who would win in a battle between a shark with octopus tentacles and a piranha with a snake's body? If not, then please turn off the T.V. and thing very long and hard about what you've been doing with your life, you sad sap. To everyone else, you're more than welcome to witness the tussle between Clades of the Greco-Roman Alliance and Carrasco of the Amazonian Territories!
Come one, come all, because our Marketing divison has proudly dubbed this 50th Anniversary event...
We now go live to Hawaii, where the final battle of Round 1 is about to take place...
-------
Carl Fischer, CEO of toy and game manufacturer MagicHat Inc., was
not in a good mood.
He was the sort of spoilt, bratty person who liked to get his own way, and
right now things were not going his own way at all. First of all, his car had
been clamped - he was late for work and brushing toast crumbs from his lapels,
how was he supposed to know he was on a double yellow? Then a lawsuit had
come in from their main rival Cliffside Ltd. over apparent copyright
infringement on their children's card game, Battle Beasts, which is exactly the
sort of thing the company needed on the brink of releasing their
children's dice game, Dungeon Dice. Then upon returning home, a message on his
voicemail revealed his wife Deborah had found his private stash of money and
was using it to run away with that greasy-haired, jobless biker from down
the road. And finally, his steak had been served cold.
So no, he reflected as he did his best to finish his meal and ignore the
obnoxious steel drum band in the centre of the restaurant. He was not in a good
mood at all. There were loads of people in this straw-roofed, sun-kissed
beachside diner that were in far better moods than he was right now, and why
shouldn't they be? After all, they were either happy holidaymakers making a
pit-stop on their way to the next big attraction, couples looking for a
romantic dinner or bored surf jocks seeking a quick snack before they hit the
waves once more. They didn't have to put up with lawsuits or unfaithful wives,
and thus were on sugar highs compared to Carl’s current simmering rage and
depression.
In fact, the businessman was so busy reflecting on what a bad mood
he was in, he failed to notice something that was very soon about to put him in
an even worse mood. Which is a shame, because it would have also probably been
the most interesting thing he'd seen all day, if also the last thing he'd ever
see.
Carrasco has arrived to the battlefield a little early, deployed
surreptitiously in the jungles by his corporate masters, and is naturally
starving. So the first thing he does upon finding the restaurant is throw
himself at it like a starving badger lunging for a nest of baby rabbits,
smashing through the flimsy wood before any of the clientele can shriek for
help. His coils overturn furniture in an avalanche of tables and half-eaten
food, and with every clack of his massive mouth his razor teeth cut through yet
another helpless bystander, sending showers of blood and intestines everywhere.
Eyes rolling in his head, his nose full of the stench of food, the
Brazillian barbarian goes a little bit mental with glee, and for a few
glorious minutes his world is full of tasty snacks and screaming.
Sadly, this pleasant little reverie is short-lived.
No more than a few metres away, on the now deserted beaches, an iron-gray
bulk rises from the foaming breakers, accompanied by a swirling mass of orangey
cables as Clades hauls himself ashore. Rome's greatest war hero emits a gurgling
breath as he slops up the sand, the sun hot on his back and the ivory sand
soothing his war-weary tentacles as they drag their owner forwards. Piggy black
eyes lock onto the faraway scene of destruction, nostrils dilate to suck in the
scent of broken wood, blood and swamp water, and neurones fire up inside the
ancient brain in preparation for battle. With some effort, the chimeric carcharodon
begins to move at a faster pace, dripping water as he lugs his considerable
weight towards the panicked restaurant.
Unaware of the arrival of his foe, Piranhaconda has managed to corner a
scrawny teen with a dumb backwards cap who had been giving him the slip quite a
bit. The human had done his best to outwit the persistent predator, ducking and
diving away from every lunge Brazil's monstrous security guard has made, but in
his panic he has allowed the beast to lure him against a wooden partition where
he can't dodge either left or right and to jump would mean broken legs. With a
terrified scream, the teenager presses himself against the fence as Carrasco
rears up to striking height, ropes of saliva and blood dribbling from his mouth
in anticipation of his next snack.
And is punched in the jaw by a battering ram of pure muscle.
As the reptile goes twisting and crashing into the splintery wreckage of
tables and chairs, Clades pulls himself over the balcony and into the
restaurant, snarling throatily at his foe. The Greco-Roman gladiator's nose is overwhelmed with the stink of his enemy, of unfamiliar waters and death, and his teeth snap at the air in an attempt to intimidate his monstrous rival. Never before has he encountered an opponent like this, in all his long years of fighting for his country, but he's not prepared to let down his guard like some rookie just because he's fighting an unfamiliar enemy. He ignores the tiny human fainting dead away in the corner, and instead concentrates on anchoring himself to whatever supports he can find, tentacles winding around beams and railings as the enraged Piranhaconda shakes off the debris with a maniacal hissing.
The two beasts face off.
Art by The Deleter
And it's, unsurprisingly, the Brazillian beast that attacks first, dashing forward with mouth agape. Sharktopus is quicker on the draw, however, and swings his massive form aside so that the razor teeth clack down upon nothing before darting forward with a bite of his own. But then the wicked head of the Piranhaconda twists round in the return-stroke that has caught so many unaware pirates by surprise, and the startled shark is forced to leap over his enemy's sinuous body as the teeth miss his shoulder by a fraction. His coils grating on the wooden planking, Carrasco keeps pace with his enemy, roaring as he twists back into the striking position to face his foe before striking out again, this time aiming for the pointed nose out of sheer spite.
A second blow to his face, however, is enough to dissuade him - the cunning Clades has lashed out with a splintered plank from the remains of the furniture, smashing it over the piscene head and sending him sliding back, jaws agape in threat. But mere act of flinching has shown vulnerablility to the chimeric carcharodon, and with a gutteral bellow Sharktopus drops his impromptu bludgeon and whips two free tentacles out towards his enemy, coiling one of them around Piranhaconda's throat whilst the other drives it's spiked point into his side. The piscene predator screeches as his blood is spilled, his garling breaths cut off by the crushing vice around his windpipe, and Clades growls as he drags his foe closer, sensing victory is already at hand.
CHOMP
Sometimes, being horrendously short-sighted isn't the handicap you think it is. Through the blurry haze of his vision, Carrasco was able to make out what the horrid cold blobs were, and with a sharp twist was able to get his jaws fastened around the fleshy cable around his neck. Sharktopus bellows with pain and surprise as his tentacle is severed, inky blood pouring as he pulls away from his opponent and scrambles backwards over the rubble, trying to put some distance from his opponent. Sensing the window of advantage fading quickly, Piranhaconda darts forward with speed born of bloodlust and anger, and before the Greco-Roman gladiator can collect his wits his sinuos foe has thrown two loops of his scaled body around his midsection, out of reach of the grasping limbs.
The cruel chimera gasps in surprise as the coils tighten, crushing his skeleton and restricting the air flow to his primitive lung. But then, something odd happens - the Brazillian entrant suddenly emits an ear-piercing shriek and lets go, sliding away from his once-vulnerable opponent. As the dazed Sharktopus rights himself, the spines jutting awkwardly from his gill slits are glistening with fresh blood - what the bio-engineers considered an impediment to the beast's breathing now reveals itself to be a viable defensive tactic after all, preventing their owner from being crushed to death.
Thank you, Italy.
Thitaly.
Bleeding from the multiple perforations in his flesh, Piranhaconda tries to collect his wits, now unsure exactly of how to approach a foe that has eluded the constriction that claimed the lives of so many river pirates on the Amazon. But he isn't given the chance - another tentacle winds itself about the piscene head, and before he knows it Clades has slammed his face once, twice, three times into the bar counter, sending splinters of wood into the air and in his skin. Shrieking and spitting blood from his nostrils, the fish-headed freak rears back, and Sharktopus presses his advantage, ripping out one of the overhead neon signs from the roof and cracking it right across his jaw, sending Carrasco flying against the wall with a bang and an explosion of shrapnel.
Clades isn't finished yet, however. Roaring with bloodlust and triumph, the tentacled terror turns away from his stricken foe and reaches out towards the shattered remains of the bartop. Grasping it as hard as he can, suckers fastening onto the wooden surface like industrial strength glue, the war hero heaves sideways with every bit of muscle he has to bear, tentacles taut with exertion. With a noise akin to someone's best pair of trousers ripping asunder, the entire counter is uprooted from the rest of the floor, and with a second bellow the savage shark twists on the spot, ready to slam it's whole mass into the dazed Piranhaconda and put him out of the building for good.
A Piranhaconda who was already gone the moment he turned away.
It's Sharktopus' turn to go flying as he is struck in the midsection by several tonnes of muscle, the countertop flying from his tentacles as he sails backwards and smashes through the balcony railings. Only by a miracle does he act quick enough - the tentacles grab onto support pillars and fasten themselves to the floor of the balcony, stopping him from going completely over the side. Muscle strain with the effort of keeping his bulk in the air, the grey body precariously hanging above the ocean waters like a pendulumn in a grandfather clock. Wood creaks ominously in the stifling air.
Rolling his mad black eyes up, Clades spots the narrow head of Carrasco appearing over the side of the balcony, scales sliding on the floor as he looms over the stricken shark. Saliva drips copiously from the wide jaws, splattering onto the wood, and the heavy, growling breath of the beast echoes in the ruins of the restaurant like someone revving a chainsaw in a warehouse. Piggy eyes glare down at their vulnerable target, and Sharktopus knows that there's no way he can defend himself here. Not only does the Brazillain behemoth have a height advantage, but his copius length means reaching down to finish the job won't be a problem. A single razor bite to the jugular will be all it takes.
Sharktopus shuts his eyes and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
...and opens his eyes again, confused.
Piranhaconda is still there. Still breathing, still looming. He hasn't attacked, hasn't made any move to descend downwards and kill the conflict-weary carcharodon. Yet he's stilll there, looking down in his direction, panting and drooling everywhere as the stench of blood and meat drives his hunger. Clades, needless to say, is somewhat unnerved by this, and wonders what on earth the capitalist creation is up to. Is he gloating, in some perverse manner, before he finishes off the fight? Or does he simply intend to wait for him to dry out or drop, making his job easier? Skin beginning to crisp in the hot sun, the Grecian general flips through his mental book of war tactics to try and figure out the strategy being employed here.
Then he notices the way Carrasco's head shifts left and right, and the way the eyes dart back and forth.
He can't see him.
The Amazonian abomination's poor eyesight has him confused - he knows he saw the other monster go over the balcony, but can't see any trace of him, despite being able to smell him. It's a glaringly-wide opportunity, and Clades takes it - with a roar, he hauls himself upward like a fat kid on a rope swing and sinks his teeth into the back of Piranhaconda's neck before the serpent can react. An ear-splitting scream cuts the air as the bewildered snake-fish writes in his grasp, and the Conquerer of the Swiss Coast bites again, slicing a chunk of flesh from his opponent and gulping it down in one motion. Another bite like that, and he'll snap the thing's spine in two.
But now he can smell his attacker, Carrasco is quick to respond. Sharktopus has made a grievous injury indeed, but he's bitten too far down the neck, and this gives the pugnacious piscene the room he needs to lash out with the return-stroke, biting above his aggressor's right fin and tearing it almost completely off. Clades' eyes widen in shock and pain, not anticipating a counterattack of any kind, and in his surprise he lets go of his hold on the balcony, dragging the spitting serpent with him as he falls. The two hit the ocean with an almighty splash and a plume of foam, vanishing from sight underneath the waves snd leaving only the ruined restaurant in their wake.
But the battle is far from over - the field has merely changed.
-------
The peace of the coral reef is disturbed by the sounds of battle.
Piranhaconda has proven himself a fast learner, if nothing else. Having wound his coils lower down, where the quills can't hurt him, the Brazillian behemoth has set about crushing the life out of his opponent, confident of suffocating his foe while the tentacles can't reach him. However, the bite to the back of his neck is leaking blood into the water something fierce, his muscles cramping with the pain, and already Sharktopus is digging his teeth into his side, causing even more pain to the protector of the plantations. On top of that, his gills aren;t designed for the sea - the salt water is making them burn something fierce.
This is going to be a battle of attrition - if either competitor wants to win this, they'll have to endure the torment being inflicted on them for as long as they can. But one of the monsters has other ideas.
Clades may be in white-hot agony from the crushing force on his ribs and the lack of breath, but he's not about to give up easily. As the amphibious abominations twist and tumble through the water, he espies the bright, gaudy colours of the coral reef from the corner of his eye, and the jagged formations give him an idea of how to escape his predicament. Releasing his grip on the serpent's side, the Maurader of the Mediterranian lives up to his reputation for on-the-fly cunning as he lurches sideways towards the shore, slamming bodily into the corals. Pieces of polyps fly in all directions, clouding the monsters in an explosion of underwater dust.
Carrasco shrieks in pain as the sharp corals puncture his scales, but in his panic he merely tightens his hold, refusing to let go. Again and again, his nemesis drives into the reef, sending up clouds of debris and scattering fish and crabs everywhere, and each time the polyps slice the persitant predator's skin in different places. Piranhaconda clings bravely on, enduring the pain of this battering, but when a particularly sharp coral bites into the flesh beneath his eye it becomes too much for him to bear, and to the immense relief of Clades he relinquishes his hold and speeds to the surface, desperate for air and relief.
His monstrous head breaks the surface, and his jaws gape open as he gulps in vital oxygen to relieve the burning in both his snake lungs and fish gills. The sun beating down upon his face helsp to relieve the panic of his battering against the coral, but it also impedes his already-poor vision, and he doesn't notice Sharktopus crusing slowly into position underneath him. Now free from the constricting coils, the cruel chimera can breathe freely and think clearly about his strategy, and he can see that once again his opponent has rashly left himself exposed to an attack he'll never see coming.
Ancient instincts kick in as Clades the Sharktopus surges up from the deep.
The water explodes again as the shark launches from the water, carrying the squiriming, shrieking Piranhaconda in his jaws. As he reaches the peak of his jump, the Italian war hero shales his head from side to side, teeth cutting out another chunk of flesh from his opponent, before both animals crash down into the ocean. The water turns pink with blood, and admist the spray Clades rips away, trailing crimson clouds as he bolts down his mouthful of meat, leaving Carraco writhing in the water. He turns, but does not attack again - he's employing the classic hit-and-run tactics of his ancestors, waiting to see how badly his attack has crippled his foe.
As it turns out, pretty badly. Piranhaconda is not only bleeding out, bitten through almost to the spinal cord, but terrified and exhausted beyond all measure. This foreign waters stings in his wounds, he can't see his enemy no matter where he twists and turns and his nose is so full of blood he can't pinpoint the foe via smell either. His strength is leaving him rapidly, his pained writhings to stay afloat becoming weaker and weaker by the second, and already smaller sharks are gathering to see what's going on. The bane of the banana pirates is wishing madly for his shoal to be around, or for a nice raw cow to munch on instead of all this pain, but he's on his own and dinner isn't being served in a harness lowered into the water. He's out of his element and scared to death.
Out of the corner of his eye, through the mist, he sees a shadow, moving about close to the sea floor in a vague, meandering pattern. He can't tell if it's Sharktopus through all the blood and churning water, but at this point he's desperate to take any opportunity to fnish this fight quickly, and a horrid determination siezes the monstrous mash-up's mind to go all-out against his opponent. Not even roaring this time, Carrasco dives down towards the misty shape, snapping his jaws furiously in one last attempt ot uphold the honour of his masters and the glory of the Amazon Territories. It's a long-shot, betting entirely on sheer luck that he does any damage whatsoever to an enemy that might not even there.
And it misses.
Having taken the window of opportunity to scanvenge on the sea floor, Sharktopus puts the unfortunate creature out of his misery by braining him with an iron pipe. The crack of breaking bone echoes around the sea floor, and blood and brain matter billow into the water as the battered Brazillian crashes into a heap on the sea floor, dead. The yellow eyes roll in their sockets, staring up at the sun filtering down through the water, but seeing nothing. A thousand dollars of genetic splicing, selective breeding and careful training, gone to waste.
Clades growls with satisfaction, dropping the pipe to the floor. Then, noticing the approach of smaller sharks drawn by the scent of blood, he grabs his fallen foe in his tentacles and drags the corpse upwards towards the shore. He intends to feast well tonight, in honour of yet another victory for the Allied Military Forces.
SHARKTOPUS WINS!
Wow! What a fight that was, huh? Only fitting for the conclusion of Round 1! Don;t forget to collect your bets and Greco-Roman War Bonds - even the smallest dollar counts towards the war effort!
Oh, but don't go away just yet! The Monster Mash 199X is far from over - we still have Round 2 coming up in a month or so! Also, your favourite freak may have lost horribly, but he may still have a chance to crawl back from the brink! Our sister company, Greentech, is hosting the Monster Mash's very own Loser's League on Channel G, giving you the chance to help a loser become a winner! Just like in the regular fights, all you have to do is head for your nearest voting booth and place your bets, and hopefully buy our overpriced merchandise as well! And if you ever miss out on our live broadcast, you can catch up by going to our website and checking out the Loser's League Fite Blog!(WARNING: Must be 18 or over to view the website.)
(So yeah, taking a bit of a break from writing Monster Mash. Also, Gooper Blooper has very kindly offered to host the Loser's League fights on his blog, which will help take the workload off. Thanks, man :3)
We're back, sports fans! And this time we don't need to be shoving product placement everywhere - all that debt is paid off! WHOO!
So since we're in such a good mood, let's talk hybrids! And I don't mean stuff like Mega Python or Mansquito were - horrid piles of DNA soup mixed together and injected into an unwilling test subject. We mean Chimeric Hybrids, the sort of thing that have the head of a rooster, the tail of a cow, the legs of a lion and stuff like that. For the longest time, the dream of creating such wonderful mix-and-match abominations was beyond the reach of even our brightest minds at GaiaCorp - merging the DNA of different species without outright mixing the strands seemed virtually impossible. Mother Nature was pulling down her trousers and mooning us from afar. But then our sister corporation Greentech made a massive breakthrough with Project Clearwater, quite literally inventing a brand new type of MicroStrand protein glue, and now we're churning out cockatrices and mermaids by the dozen! Take that, Mother Nature, and while you're at it bend over so we can spank you, you little-
...ahem. Anyway, our latest fight is not just the final fight of Round 1 before we move on to Round 2 and the Loser's League. It's also a showcase of how far GaiaCorp has come since our humble beginnings of raising demons from hell way back in WWI. Tonight's competitors are born from the fruits of hard graft, years of research and occasionally swiping ideas from our friends in the name of keeping our reputation as lazy bastards. And it's happening right on our doorstep, as we here are happy to act as neutral ground for massive political squabbles! Brace yourselves, loyal customers, because it's time for us to put on THE HYBRID HOEDOWN IN HAWAII! IN THE BLUE CORNER...
The Great Greco-Roman Alliance expands day by day. It's relentless war machine marches ever eastwards, taking down such territories as northern Africa, the once independent parts of former Communist Spain and the territories of Albania and their relatives. As titanic mega-subs rise from the sea to bombard the shorelines with volleys of artillery, hordes of amphibious mutants slither onto the sand to devour and crush the enemies of their glorious emperor. And among their ranks, with more medals to his name than we care to count, is the beast we call Clades the SHARKTOPUS!
That name just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Say it with us - Sharktopus. We're really quite proud of this one - the blueprint for Clades once belonged to the obscure Blue Water Company, a biotech firm working in the public safety zones for the Empire of America. The idea was to create a remote-controlled creature that could respond to electric signals and be used to deter sharks and warships from the holiday resorts that dot the sides of their proud nation. Wherupon we slapped their CEO in the face, told him not to be such a pussy and then bought the plans off of him. The basic combination of shark and octopus genes was bolstered by the same lungfish DNA we used on Tiburon the Mega Shark previously, and the results were then sold off to Grecaly, or whatever the kids call it nowadays.
Sharktopus is a bit smaller than his cousin Tiburon, at around 13 meters (43 feet) due to his lack of a tail, but his tentacles make up most of that length, so he can't really complain. His 30cm (12 inch) teeth serve as his primary weapon, slicing through flesh and bone alike, but his tentacles also serve to constrict, bludgeon and stab foes around at close range. They also serve as his legs, allowing him to get around quite quickly on both water and land, and an octopus's brain grants him problem-solving skills and some quick on-the-fly thinking ability as well. His only weaknesses are lack of protective scales or armour and a tendency to dry out in hot weather, but as long as he stays near water that shouldn't really be a problem.
IN THE RED CORNER...
Determined to avoid the economic slump their northern cousins were experiencing, Brazil and many other of the South American states banded together to form the Amazon Territories. Guided by their mutual need to rake in the big bucks, they began to monopolize their exports - bananas, coffee, sugar and so on - to ludicrous levels, to the point where they now have a massive stranglehold on the world's supplies. This, naturally, bred pirates looking for an easy profit, and thus Brazil sought to protect their livelihood with a violent, iron fist. And thus was born a beast of terrifying proportions - Carrasco the PIRANHACONDA!
Just like Russia before them, the Amazon Territories wanted something that would inspire fear in those who would dare plunder their precious harvest. So we put our thinking helmets on - what are people cruising up the Amazon river scared of the most? Piranhas and anacondas, of course... Bing! Terrible creature + terrible creature = horrifying demon from the recesses of mankind's nightmares! A month or so of stirring culture vats, applying protein glue and incubating eggs in our swampy biome later, and Carrasco and his brood were soon ready to swim through the murky waters, devouring light-fingers looters from their boats.
Piranhaconda is just shy of 16 metres (53 feet), and has a least 60 razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, designed to slice chunks of meat off prey. His massive serpentine body allows him to constrict foes in a crushing grip, as well as slide effortlessly along most terrain. He is also a powerful swimmer, just at home underwater as he is on land, and can transition from land to water with little trouble. However, he has two majorly crippling deficiencies that dull his killing edge somewhat - horrendous eyesight that forces him to rely on his much more powerful sense of smell and an aversion to cold temperatures. But even with those in mind, you have to admit this freaky fish is not just going to lie down and let you pour vinegar on it.
THE ARENA
Hawaii. It's where everyone goes to catch a sun-filled break way from all the civil war and political unrest. It's where grass-skirted nymphs rub coconut oil into your back as you catch some rays. And it's also where we are! Yes, folks, in celebration of GaiaCorp's 80th Anniversary and also to keep Brazil and Rome from kicking each other's teeth out, we're hosting this fight on our very own turf, just as we hosted the epic first ever live Monster Mash way back in 191X! We'd say we're selling tickets to this one-of-a kind event, but really there's no need - these beasts might just flatten your porch in the middle of the fight! Consider it a gift from us to you!
So, sports fans, who is destined to make it to Round 2? The tentacled terror from a militaristic union of ancient beliefs? Or the pirate-devouring predator riding on the capitalistic dreams of money-hungry Brazilians? Make haste to your local voting booths now, ladies and gentlemen, because this is the kind of event that won't repeat itself in a hurry! And don't forget to stock up on limited edition plushies and t-shirts to support your favourite competitor whilst your at it!
...Um, so with that out of the way, back to the show!
Tonight on The Monster Mash 199X, we've got the ultimate tussle of transgenic terrors lined up for you, taking place in the war-ravaged savannahs of once-proud Africa! Not only do our competitors have to worry about defeating each other in this battle of beasts, they'll have to keep an eye out for rowdy wildlife and the soaring temperatures that could bake a potato in the foil! The stakes are high in this one, as victory means advancing to Round 2 of the Monster Mash, whilst defeat means a sorry demotion to the Loser's League for a slim chance at the title! Will the United States of Africa triumph with Jeuri, the law-enforcing Dinocroc, or will Communist Spain take the win with Zancudo, the hideous hybrid Mansquito? Set up your tents, take our your binoculars and get ready to hide from marauding sabre-tooth-lions, because tonight's the night for...
Connor Hardy here, going live to the Serengeti Plains...
-------
The harsh, overgrown scrubland of the war-torn Serengeti is awoken from it's drowsy afternoon siesta by a cacophony of furious bellowing.
Jeuri had arrived to the intended battlefield first, accompanied by a convoy of military soldiers, and was let loose from his private truck to wreak the vengeance of the African People's Congress upon the invaders. The instant he was released into the fenced off area of the former national park, the prehistoric monstrosity stormed straight for the deepest parts of the untamed wilderness, seeking his prey like a bloodhound on the prowl. However, it's not the insectoid challenger that the resurrected reptile has stumbled upon here, but one of the locals - an adult bull Supergator, 40 feet long and in no mood to share his patch with an intruder of any size or age. The two beasts circle each other in the dusty clearing, hissing and snapping, unwilling to give any ground.
Then the Supergator makes a costly error. Pushing himself up onto his back legs, he tries to rise up and bite at Dinocroc's throat, which is higher off the ground than he could reach otherwise. The supersized saurian's patience pays off as his enemy's underbelly is exposed, and the bigger animal ducks underneath the snapping jaws and delivers a savage bite to the soft skin, ripping horrific gouges and spilling blood onto the dust and grass below. With a howl of pain the gigantic gator yanks away, skin tearing in the process, and drops back to his feet before turning and bolting for the nearby river. He knows this is one fight he's not going to win, not when his opponent is capable of exploiting weaknesses like that.
The cruel crocodilian roars in triumph, pursuing his fleeing adversary across the plain until he sees him dive into the waters in a flurry of spray. At the bank of the river, he pauses, snarling threateningly but making no move to pursue - he has other prey to worry about, and there's no point in wasting energy on chasing a beaten enemy when his masters have given him more important orders. Still, Jeuri is nothing if not prone to gloating about his victories, and he continues to growl and stomp in the muddy bank until the cowed Supergator has hauled himself out on the opposite side and vanished into the trees. Only then does he allow himself to calm down, breathing heavily through his nostrils and blinking his yellow eyes.
Then he picks it up again - the scent of his enemy.
Those who thinks insects have no smell haven't tried being a crocodile yet. Those things can smell blood from hundreds of kilometres away, on land as well as underwater, and their senses are keen enough for them to distinguish between wildebeest, zebras and all the hundreds of other creatures that cling to life in the savannah. So it's not too surprising that Dinocroc manages to catch a tang of that familiar odour his masters had ordered him to track - a mixture of stale blood and flesh, punctuated with the same horrid chemical smell that the Triassic terror has grown up with in the walls of his pen. It's a fair distance away from the river, so the enemy is nowhere close to his location, and that means Jeuri is going to have to hunt his target down before flushing it out from wherever it's hiding.
Fortunately, Dinocroc was born to hunt.
A low rumble in it's throat, the massive saurian turns and stalks away from the river, following his nose.
-------
He could barely remember how he got here.
His mind was a whirring chaos of disjointed pictures and fragmented
sensations. One moment he was strapped in some kind of chair with a metal thing
hooked to his head, the next he was tied down with straps while
white-coated shades put something into him that burned horribly, and then
after that he was shut up in something cramped and cold and the world was
shaking like there was an earthquake...
And now he was here. Hiding in a scratchy tree that did
nothing to shade him from the scorching sun up above.
He twitched his wings and shifted slightly, trying to think. He
knew that he had been placed here by something else - he had no recollection of
coming to such an unpleasant place under his own power - but he couldn’t think
of who would want to do that, or why. He knew there were probably reasons, but
he simply couldn't figure out what those reasons were - there was just so many
bit and pieces of memories and voices rattling around in his head that he
couldn't pin any one of them down and get a solid idea forming. Too much had
happened since... since... actually, scratch that, he couldn't remember what that
was, either.
And, on top of that, there's something else. Something out of place,
something-
Zancudo is startled out of his contemplative state by the crashing of wood, and only his own superhuman reflexes save him from an early chomping. The teeth of Dinocroc close on nothing more than the flimsy acacia branches that his prey was on a second ago, and the mutant menace buzzes high into the air as he watches his tree hideout collapse under the transgenic tyrant's bulk with a noise like thunder. Mansquito has literally no idea what his oppressor is or how it managed to find him up in the tree, but he knows at once that it's spoiling for a fight - no peaceful creature would attempt an ambush from behind like that.
Well, if it's a fight it wants...
With a snarl of frustration, Jeuri staggers back to his feet, spitting acacia needles. His nose had indeed told it where the prey was going to be hiding - not even the musky stench of dead wood could mask such a foul odor - but it didn't give the cruel crocodilian any forewarning of inexplicable reflexes and speed. He had come so close to capturing his intended prey, and now he had completely botched it in a manner that would have put America's Funniest Home Videos look like a drama series by comparison. As the Dinocroc shakes himself down, his keen ears kick up the angry buzzing of his insectoid enemy, and mad yellow eyes swivel around to focus on the shape hovering just above his head.
Jeuri opens his cavernous mouth and bellows his challenge.
Zancudo brandishes his sabre claws and chitters a response.
The battle is on.
Immediately the murderous mosquito dives down towards his reptilian aggressor, moving with a speed Usain Bolt would sell his own body to buy from our top scientists. Snarling, the transgenic tyrant moves to intercept, massive jaws swinging like a pair of toothy rakes towards the incoming bug-thing with every intention of divesting him of his limbs. But the teeth clamp shut on nothing once again - Mansquito rolls out of the way just in time, and as he does so he flicks out one of his wicked forearm talons and slashes at the reptile's side, ripping the flesh open as it passes by. Africa's Enforcer roars in anger as a line of red is scoured from the shoulder all the way down to the hip, and responds by twisting on the spot, tail whistling through the air.
Again the hybrid horror's evasive reflexes kick in, and changing direction in a manner that would snap the bones of any normal human he evades the tail swipe before it even hits. This time looping over Dinocroc's back, Zancudo pirouettes underneath his enemy's belly and lashes out again, carving another deep gouge that immediately starts to seep red, followed by a swipe at the shins that rips skin away and sends blood flying. Another bellow of pain comes from the bewildered reptile as he tries to figure out what's going on, and now satisfied that his opponent is already confused and bewildered by his seemingly random attack patterns, the hybrid horror buzzes out from underneath the thrashing theropod and darts towards the fleshy neck, his sharpened proboscis extending in anticipation of the feast to come.
SLAM Once again, Zancudo has underestimated his adversaries' keen senses - the savage saurian's hearing has clued him in to where the belligerent bug is coming from, and he has swung his massive head like a hammer in response. With a sick thud that announces the possibility of a crumpled exoskeleton, ruptured organs or both, the top of Jeuri's skull impacts with the mutant menace head on, throwing the startled bug through the air and into the side of another acacia tree in an explosion of bark. Dazed and winded, Mansquito slumps to the dusty ground at the foot of the tree, and through blurry eyes he makes out the dusty brownish-green shape of his foe as it turns to confront him. Now fully aware of where is prey is, and now with a clear shot at it, the cruel crocodilian lunges forward once more, jaws agape.
And once again he barrels face-first into the tree.
The acacia, long since dead and unable to support the ants it relied on in life, topples like a high-class courtesan fainting at some particularly strong language, hitting the ground in a burst of dry branches and spines. Confused and angry beyond belief, Dinocroc hauls himself onto his feet, dust and shards of bark pouring from his hide, and looks around for his target - who has once again escaped his jaws. This entire hunt is going from bad to worse for him - he's used to fighting big lumbering creatures prone to exposing weak spots in their hubris, not small buzzy things that don't stay still long enough to make tasty snacks. Frustration is beginning to seep into the Triassic terror's normally razor-sharp mind, and he bellows and stomps the ground as he scans the area for his foe.
Then he hears the buzzing, and looks up again.
Zancudo is now just above his head, glaring down with his compound eyes. The hybrid horror has finally cottoned on to the fact that he's facing something big and touch, not something he can simply pin down and drain of fluids like all of his previous victims. That last blow cracked something important - the pain is still shooting through him even as we speak - and he knows that another attack like that is going to put him down for good if he allows it. He's going to need to be more clever for this one, and this open area isn't going to give him the advantage he needs to do that.
A flash of green catches the malignant mosquito's mind...
And off he buzzes, just in time to avoid another snap from the enraged Dinocroc. With lightning speed, he darts towards the patch of green, which quickly blooms into the sole natural jungle that exists in this hellhole, and vanishes into the bushes. With a bellow, Jeuri gives chase, crashing through the branches and undergrowth in pursuit, not willing to give up his prey so easily.
-------
The birds and beasts of the jungle, chattering away to each other in the treetops, have some unexpected company.
Moving quickly, Zancudo flies through the trees like a purple missile, expertly ducking and dodging his way through the trees, branches and vines that bar his path like the bars of a prison. He is all too aware of the horrible snarling and crashing behind him, announcing Jeuri's presence as the resurrected reptile smashes through the branches with absolutely no grace whatsoever. The leaves of the canopy form a thick shade from the sweltering heat of the sun, granting the mutant menace a respite in that regard, but now the humidity is leaving him feeling sticky instead, slowing him somewhat. But, as they say, he's had to pick the lesser of two evils, and being damp is preferable to being scratchy.
The mosquito's plan is simple. The plains were too wide open for the sort of ambush tactics he wanted to pull off - no matter where he went, the enemy would always be able to see him, and there was literally nowhere to set an ambush. By taking the fight into the jungle, the hybrid horror could turn the tables to his advantage - with plenty of foliage to hide behind and block the reptile's vision, it would be the perfect place to perform the guerrilla warfare it needed to use in order to win. A combination of lighting fast attacks and crippling strikes from cover would weaken and frustrate the Dinocroc over time, eventually bringing it to the point where the killing blow could be achieved. No sense in a straight-up fight against a bigger opponent, right?
Mansquito quickly looks back to check if the seething saurian is behind him.
And blunders into a whole mass of long, green things.
At first, he's inclined to think it's just some vines hanging from the canopy. But no sooner has he gotten himself mixed up with them then they move with horrific speed, speed almost matching his own. Their triangular tips, coated with thousands of tiny hooks, latch onto his limbs like the tentacles of an angry octopus, and the cords themselves tighten as they attempt to pull him up into the air and out of the clearing. The bug's chitters in a panic as he writhes in midair, struggling to free himself from the binding tendrils as several more begin to latch onto him, and his flailing claws strike the purple blossoms that grow intermittently from the length of each one, sending a rain of petals to the forest floor.
Zancudo cannot know it, but he is caught in the clutches of the Purple Terror, a vicious and bloodthirsty plant first described by Fred M. White in the Strand Magazine. Little did anyone realize that the vampiric vine was, in fact, a horrendous reality, and as the Unification War tore the Serengeti apart like so much wrapping paper, the tree-bound parasites have had time to gorge themselves on those unfortunate animals that have blundered into this section of the jungle. The abundance of food has allowed the orchid to spread from tree to tree in search of more food, until now they dominate at least half of the jungle in a purple mass, devouring all who come near. And Mansquito has blundered right into them.
But the hybrid horror's problems aren't over yet.
Because even as he struggles to free himself, the bushes part and a panting, sweat-soaked Jeuri enters the clearing. He doesn't seem as healthy as he did starting out - not only is he puffed out from pursuing the irritating insect and reeling from heat exhaustion, but his limbs are shaking a little as they keep his body upright, and his yellow eyes are clouded over. In fact, he's starting to show symptoms of infection from the Gilligan virus, most likely as a side-effect of being scratched by Mansquito's claws, and lack of resistance from his prehistoric immune system means the disease has taken hold quite quickly.
But he's still aware enough to see his enemy in front of him, and also to know he's trapped.
Mansquito's eyes widen as he sees the dreaded dinosaur approach, and increases his desperate struggles to try and free himself from the vines. He makes some headway in this - the cords seem to be thinking that this though, wriggly thing isn't worth the bother - and manages to free one arm and a leg from the trap as rhe vines slink away into the shadows of the canopy. But it's too little too late - with a roar, Dinocroc lunges forward and finally grasps his opponent's free leg in his jaws before wrenching his head sideways. There is a noise like someone ripping a packet of crisps open, and the leg is pulled away from the rest of Zancudo, black ichor spilling onto the jungle undergrowth.
White-hot pain flares through the monstrous mosquito's mind as he is divested of his limb.
And with that pain comes a memory...
-------
"Pass the salt would you, hijo?" "Yes, papá!" "Aw, isn't this grand, Damien? Our son is growing up with such good manners!" "Yes, Conchita, and soon he shall inherit the family business! And I know he'll make a good job of it, won't you, Simon?" "I shall try my best, papá!" "Heh heh heh! That's my boy!" ------- "No, please! My family-!" "GET THE FUCK ON THE FLOOR, YOU DOUBLE-CROSSING CRIMINAL SCUM!" "No... no, please!" "Run, Conchita! I'll hold them of for as-" BANG "FATHER!" ------- "Project Gilligan, Sample 1. Time of test, 5:00pm. Begin injection... now." "AAAAAAAAAA-" ------- "Where we taking this thing?" "Eh, some piece of shit wasteland in the middle of the Serengeti. He's schedule for a fight with that giant lizard Africa's got." "Dinocroc? Heh, poor bastard's got no chance!" "You think? Killed at least five of my personnel before we could tie him down. I think he's got a decent chance!" "Still, you gotta admit he's not exactly there in the head. That's not gonna be of much help." "Dead parents don't translate into battle skills, Dick. Unless your Batman." "...so are you saying-?" "No." ------- "Samuel, my son... I believe in you, Samuel... Good luck..." -------
The shriek that comes from Zancudo silences the forest and shakes the branches overhead. As if startled by the sudden noise, the coils of the Purple Terror release the mutant menace and retract some distance up into the canopy, and only the madly-buzzing wings keep the injured creature aloft. Jeuri jumps back several feet, dropping the leg from his mouth in shock, and stares as the hybrid horror lifts himself into the air, compound eyes blazing with a fury far greater than even a thousand burning suns could achieve. Ichor drips from the wound, but the bug pays no heed to his own injury, so great is his own anger and bitterness towards those who have created him and what they have taken from him.
He is Mansquito no longer.
He is Samuel Escardo once again.
And he is pissed.
Everything seems to happen in slow-motion. Realizing the opportunity to win is being taken away from him, Dinocroc lunges forward, looking to rip off the other leg. But his teeth barely get anywhere before a sudden pain in his neck brings him to a screeching halt - the rapier-like proboscis is buried deep in his jugular vein, and the belligerent bug is not just drinking, he's gulping down the blood that poors from the insicion. Roaring with the searing agony, the chimeric carnivore staggers mid-charge, trying to get his opponent off of him and crunch him between his jaws for good - this fight needs to end right now, before the insect can get another foothold.
But then the first vines start to clutch at him.
The Purple Terror has sensed better feeding opportunities, and reacted accordingly, clutching at Jeuri's hide in an attempt to lever him into the air. The dreaded dinosaur resists, roaring and yanking and biting at the tendrils that come down like ravenous snakes to grab him, snapping many in two and gnawing others into complete uselessness. But this is not a struggle he can sustain - panic, heatstroke and sickness are beginning to addle his once-brilliant, patient mind, and more and more tendrils keep coming from the canopy above. If Dinocroc wants even the slightest chance of success, he needs to get out of the clearing, hopefully smashing Mansquito into a tree on the way.
It's a chance he never gets.
With speed bolstered by blind anger over what he has lost and can never have again, the mosquito-man monster darts behind the surprised saurian and drives his needle proboscis deep into the reptilian brain.
Almost immediately, the yellow eyes dim as the jaws flop open in a comical mockery of surprise, as shock and exhaustion finally take it's toll on the transgenic tyrant. Paralyzed from nose to tail by the enraged stabbing, Dinocroc falls limp to the ground as more and more tendrils from the Purple Terror clutch and engulf him, lifting him into the air like some macabre marionette cobbled together for a Punch and Judy show at the last minute. A single rattling gurgle is all that comes from the lizard's throat, a trickle of blood leaking from between the knife-like teeth as he is slowly drained of every drop of his precious fluids, second by agonizing second
Breathless but alive, still wrestling with the guilt and rage inside him, Samuel Escardo yanks his mouthparts free of the saurian's skull, lifts into the air and slowly buzzes away from the scene.
MANSQUITO WINS!
And there you have it, sports fans! The conclusion to one of the greatest fights in the Monster Mash so far! Well, we say "one of" because nothing can top Swamp Devil's impressive victory in the great finale of The Monster Mash 198X Seriously, you should have been there, it was awesome and a little bit scary.
But next time, we promise we shall try and top that. Without giving too much away, let's just say that it's a showdown that we, as morally-questionable scientists with an extremely loose understanding of how playing God with genetic material works, are looking forward to. In fact, you might say we're quite proud of the last two entrants to this competition, as they represent not only the brightest and best talent we've got here at GaiaCorp, but also represent mankind collectively sticking his middle finger up at natural selection. So brace yourselves, monster maniacs, because the final battle in Round 1 of The Monster Mash 199X is heading your way, and it's gonna be bigger, badder and radder than you think!
