The time has come, as a wise sea mammal once said. Okay, so that guy ended up eating a whole bunch of baby oysters because he was a prick, but you get the gist of it! The seats of the ThunderDome is packed to the brim with shrieking spectators, the popcorn and hot dogs are being traded around and everything is in place. Our energy shields are on full voltage to ensure that you're completely protected from the carnage about to take place here, and our contestants are champing at the bit to get ready for the big fracas of a finale that is...
It's me, Connor Hardy, up in the commentator's booth, and I'm as ready as you are...
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...
Boys and girls, ladies and other- Okay, fine we'll get to the point. It's The Monster Mash 199X, everybody.
So we procrastinated. Sue us. But really, it was the Japanese's fault. They said they'd have Daidako ready by the week, but then a whole two months passed by and fuck all happened. So yeah, blame those procrastinating fucks. Can't trust them to do anything. Also, blame those superstitious Indians for not letting their god-emperor out of his holy temple on time - they had to wait for all these wierd mystical signs and have the planets be all perfectly aligned before they even thought of sending out their massive snake to do remotely anything. Wackos.
So yeah, here it is. The one you've all been waiting for. The one we've had to bribe and threaten and even *gulp* coerce people into staging on the shores of Ibiza, by the newly created Vishnu power plant, for the sake of your entertainment. The one we call...
Connor Hardy here, and right now I'm circling above the New Tethys Ocean, hoping to get a glimpse of- JESUS CHRIST, THAT WAS A TENTACLE!
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Yeah, we kind of arrived in the middle of something, didn't we? Barely have the cameras been trained onto the potential battlefield than the water explodes in a churning, frothing mass of pain and rage - it seems either the contenders have been released slightly early from their confinement or we arrived slightly late. In any case, Raja and Daidako have wasted no time in lunging at each other the moment they entered the ring, and the spectator boats forming a circle around the water are being tossed this way and that by the furious wakes both contendors create in their struggle to kill each other. The spectators don't seem to care that much, however, hopped up on tequila and coconut milk and whooping with every lurch their conveyances take.
As of now, it seems Daidako has the advantage over his ophidavian opponent. Despite being part anaconda, Raja is still mostly a land animal, and these strange, salty waters without any ground to keep anchored on have proven detrimental to his swimming ability. The much swifter, evolved Kraken has taken advantage of this, ambushing him from the side and winding several tentacles about his upper section and trying to pull him in closer to bite through to his spine and cripple him. But as anyone who's tried to hold a bar of soap in the bathtub will know, it's not an easy task - his suckers can't grip easily on the smooth scales, and the python is thrashing around like a devish, trying to throw his oppressor off of him. It's a battle of attrition - who will tire of this struggle first?
As it turns out, neither. The sacred serpent, his lungs burning from lack of air, knows full well what will happen if he keeps up this pointless struggle, and he's also realised the multi-tentacled menace has forgotten about the rest of his tail. With a muffled growl of effort, spraying bubbles from his mouth, Mega Python manages to twist the good remainded of his tail around in the water, winding several loops of his 69-foot-long body around the Kraken's cranium and tail and squeezing down. Startled, Japan's mascot monster boggles his eyes at the crushing grip, and several of his tentacles inadvertently release their captive in a spasmodic reflex.
Feeling his adversary release his hold on him, Raja whips his head around in the deadly return-stroke, but not to bite. Not just yet, anyway - he first takes the opportunity to clear the surface of the water, gasping in fresh oxygen as the startled squid flails in his grasp, failing to bring it's advanced mental faculties into play to regain control. Only once it's lungs are full of air does the serpent dive again, this time sinking his teeth into the puply flesh of his Japanese enemy. He doesn't even know where the windpipe of his captive is, let alone if it has one, but he's not about to relinquish any sort of hold that he has on his foe.
Daidako's eyes roll madly in their sockets as pain racks through it's body. The hybrid horror's brain is frantically racking itself for a solution to this conundrum - an opponent that's pretty much everywhere at once, causing pain from every direction. His tentacles alone won't be able to reach it, the grip is too strong to be dislodged by ramming into corals and capsising the ships around him is not an option. The Kraken's arms flail about like ribbons in the wind, slapping at the sea floor in a desperate attempt to find something to get the tenacious Mega Python off of him.
Then a tentacle grips something that isn't corals. It's covered in slimy weed, but it's made of wood, and juts out of the seabed at an awkward angle. A memory flashes through the cephalopod's genetically-bolstered braincells - accounts of old longships, passing through the straits of Gibraltr, capsising due to unknown and presumably extraordinary circumstances. In desperation, Japan's finest fisherman tightens his grip on the mystery object and yanks as hard as he can.
His hearing muffled by the water, Raja doesn't even register the rotted hulk of a sunken Viking warship arcing towards him until it's too late. There is an almighty thump as at least a tonne of rotten wood and overgrown corals impacts with the back of his skull. Dust and debris go flying, clouding his already-starry vision with a smokescreen, and as the ship splinters apart the jagged edges piece and rip at his skin, opening fresh cuts. Jarred by the vicious blow, the provoked python reflexively releases his grip on Daidako, floating in the water with jaw hanging open.
Silently, but clearly relieved that his gambit has worked, Daidako carefully eases himself out of the looping coils and jettisons himself a little distance away from India's god-emperor to appraise the situation. The stunned Mega Python is suspened in the briny waters of the Mediterranean, completely limp and immobile - obviously unconcious and completely unaware of his situation. In this state, it would be completely trivial to finish him off, which is why the mighty mollusc isn't going to be taking any chances on this. Brandishing the remains of the ship like a drunk brandishes a broken bottle, the Kraken moves in for the kill.
And that's when Raja strikes. There is a blur of golden scales, and then pain racks Daidako's mind once again as teeth clamp into his armed appendage with vice-like force. Then a twist, a jerk and a ripping of flesh, and now the arm is singing to the bottom of the ocean, trailing blood as it spasmodically twitches and jerks, still clinging onto the broken boat. A flash of cold, cunning eye in the water tells all - the sacred serpent was only shamming, and now is ready to take advantage of the squid's shock and dish out an even bigger counterattack. With lightning speed barely hampered by the water, the hallowed horror twists and flexes in the water, his entire body lashing out like a whip and slamming the still-reeling Kraken through the water.
Only by a supreme effort does Japan's Finest stall himself in the water, preventing himself from smashing into the sharp corals below, but now he has to contend with a massive snake zooming towards him like a battering ram. With one arm missing and bleeding profusely, Daidako realise he's in no condition to take a head-on assault anymore, and needs to change up his tactics. With that thought in mind, the demon of the deep opens his beak wide, belching out a thick cloud of oily ink as he simultaneously jettisons away from his pursuer. The ruse works - Raja screeches to a halt, blinded by the ink and thrashing about to try and clear his murky vision.
By the time the ink has dissapated, Kraken is a very long way away, and the God of India just manages to catch a glimpse of his tentacles vanishing down a long tunnel, just in the distance. With a muffled hiss of anger, the Mega Python gives chase, sinuous body weaving through the brine of the Mediterranean as he pursues his adversary. Eager to retalliate further for the mollusc's blasphemous desecration of his holy form, he slides down the tunnel after his opponent, vanishing from the view of the underwater cameras placed by Gaiacorp around the arena for this purpose.
What neither Daidako knows nor Raja cares is that the tunnel is not a natural construct. It is the waste outlet pipe for a massive hydroelectric power plant, dedicated to providing energy to the entire west coast of Italy as the war takes it's toll on imports of oil from the British-owned North Sea Territories. On the side, it also gives life to the production of the terrible war machines that rampage across all of Eastern Europe. Raja himself was present at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, although right now he could care less about that detail. And as the crowd on their ships turn to their television sets, the security cameras within the facility flicker on, beaming their signals to every vessel on the waters.
The fight is going indoors.
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It isn't long before Daidako realises he's lost.
Going into the tunnel seemed like a smart idea at the time. After all, it's an octopus' natual reaction to slip through small spaces when pursued by a predator. But the cave that the tunnel has opened up into... feels wrong. It's too big, and there are so many twisting, featureless channels that taper this way and that, it's near-impossible to tell if he's somewhere new or just going in circles. He can hear the hum and clank of machinery above him, vaguely aware that each metallic report is the work of something man-made, and the confusing mass of noise is upsetting his sense of direction even further. Now he's trapped in a big, circular pool overhung with walkways - part of the water-based cooling system used to keep the production machines running optimally.
The mammoth mollusc, in desperation, tries running his tentacles along the walls, looking to memorize bumps and imperfections in the smooth metal. But the scouring action of the water and the chemicals within it have eroded the walls into near-perfect flatness, and the Kraken soon realises that no potential landmarks exist with which to map his way around the facility. With all the identical channels stretching away into the distance, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that this is a perfect place for an ambush, and Daidako shudders imperceptibly as he turns, looking to head off to somewhere that isn't here.
And meets Raja coming the other way.
The Mega Python knows the facility like the back of his tail, having examined the blueprints thoroughly before attending the ribbon-cutting ceremony. In the end, tracking and cornering the giant squid through the water treatment canals was a piece of cake, and the ophidavian ogilarch's patience is rewarded with another ripped off limb. Blood pours into the water from the stump once again, and Daidako writhes in agony as he is divested of yet another major limb, cursing mentally at being caught off-guard a second time. Another smack of the tail sends him jettisoning out of the water and into a lare support column, shattering it in an explosion of ceramic and steel. A jagged edge tears a gill flap as the stunned octopus flops back into the water with a mighty splash, dazed and bewildered.
But Raja is not yet finished with his attack - he is quick to capitalise on his foe's shock again. Rather than simply trying to constrict his enemy, the supersized snake wheels around in the water, dropping the severed tentacle from his mouth as he goes, and latches onto the octopoid's side. His fangs manage to close over one of the Kraken's gill apetures, puncturing the delicate flesh and shutting off the vital breathing tube from the water that the transgenic terror needs to breathe. At the same time, a loop of coil sweeps through the water and slings itself around Daidako's head, squeezing down upon-
aaaaaaagh
With his brain being compressed like air in a deoderant can and unable to breathe, Daidako goes a little bit mental. Instantly, his siphon is jettisoning water like a frat boy jettisons his stomach contents after a weekend bender, causing him to rocket around the water treatment pool and bounce off the walls like a fleshy pinball in a very creepy arcade. Steel bends and buckles from the assault, and delicate systems hidden behind the panels are flattened and wrecked by the squid's weight, setting off alarms across the facility. But the tenacious python doesn't let go, continuing to dig his fangs in deeper instead.
Eyes rolling, tentacles flailing, rapidly running out of breath because brething just through one nostril is a bad idea, the Kraken knows that things are pretty grim for him. If he can't shake off Raja soon, then he's going to suffocate or bleed out into the water, and the Indians will be sailing towards the Monster Mash championship. His vision, blurring with pain and fear, is briefly filled with visions of dissapointed men in white coats, with chefs eagerly sharpening their knives, of children sobbing into their shirts as their mascot fails to uphold their dreams and expectations. Panic sets in briefly as the mammoth mascot desperately tries to think of what to do.
Then his lower tentacles brush against something cold and smooth.
Neurons and synapes planted deep within his brain, a brain that pulses with cold and rutheless intelligence, fire into action.
The next thing Raja knows, he's smacking head-first into a wall, splintering the metal, before being dragged upwards by a powerful, iron-clad grip. His form breaks the surface, but it's barely any relief to his lungs, because now the world is spinning around him as if he's stuck in an oversized tumble-dryer, cold air whistling past his ear canals. Daidako may have lost his two major limbs, but his genius mind has reminded him that he has at least eight more, and it's two of these that have clutched hold of the Mega Python's tail, swinging him around the room like a hammer at the Scottish Olympics (before they disbanded several years ago) and crashing him into walls, smashing him through catwalks...
...and into the broken pillar from earlier.
For the first time since we've seen him, Daidako makes a noise - a horrific screech of triumph, wheezing out of his torn and bitten gill apetures, that echoes around the empty facility. Dropping the brusied carcass of the once-mighty Raja into the sea, the Kraken turns and begins the long swim back to his native Osaka waters, unaware and uncaring of the reactions his victory has caused. As the Japanese bay with glee for their champion's success and the Indians mourn the death of their once glorious god, the headless corpse of the Mega Python slowly sinks to the bottom of the flooded factory, trailing blood as it does so.
No sooner has it touched the metallic floor of the water treatment than the first hagfish, lurking in the recesses of the water filtration system, slither from the gloom.
THE KRAKEN WINS!
And there you have it, folks! The Japanese are heading straight into the Semi-Finals of the Monster Mash, and with a victory they've rightly earned! But the fun and excitement isn't over yet, sports fans, for next up comes a battle that's sure to match this one in proportion and ferocity! With an entire country's worth of smuggled diamonds on the line, it all comes down to a battle between military might and steroid-enhanced strength in THE ENCOUNTER IN THE EVERGLADES! Coming soon to The Monster Mash 199X!
Oh, and don't forget to collect your winnings from your local betting booths! You'll need them for your Black Friday rush!
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And now for something completely different.
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The navigator was very nervous indeed.
This was something of a problem, for two reasons. Firstly, he was supposed to be guiding the spaceship on it's present course, and in this profession being nervous was likely to result in catastrophe. Secondly, he was a Vulturite, a native of Nibiru and species famed for brutality, depravity and various other unpleasant traits. They weren't supposed to be nervous, or even afraid of anything that the universe could throw at them - not even such wonderful threats as the Daleks or the Martians would make them bat an eyelid. Anything a race could do, a Vulturite would do better and then brag about it to his next door neighbour.
And yet this one was trembling in his seat, bile in his throat as his eyes darted back and forth across the screen, trying to focus on the information readouts and so on. His fingers twitched as he tapped away at on-screen buttons and dials, and a fine layer of sweat stood out on his feathered forehead. A sense of ominous dread was sitting in his chest like a block of ice, one that kep growing with every passing minute - most likely to do with the nature of the mission that he was undertaking, as well as the current destination he was guiding the ship towards. Whilst he was not a person to speak his mind, a quality that was probably instrumental in getting the job in the first place, he was more than ready to admit by now that he was ready to soil himself, had he not already done so twice.
For what seemed like the thousandth time that trip, he glanced over his wiry shoulder to observe the arrangement behind him. Most of the ship's command bridge was in shadow, as it's occupant was quite particular about light levels, so he could barely make out the outline of the throne and the person sitting in it. What little he could see, however, made him shudder - a large, heaped mass of something that lay about the footwell of the seat, catching what little light there was in periodic glints and sparkles and occasionally shifted with a dry rustling noise. Swallowing audibly, the Vulturite turned back to the screen, trying hard to look as though he hadn't lost track of his work and was just minding his own business.
Unfortunately, he tried too hard.
"What a beatifiul planet," came a silken purr, and the navigator's down feathers stood on end. "So much more colourful than home."
Too late did the Vulturite hear the scraping of scale on metal, and then something cold, dry and strong looped twice around his body and yanked him from his seat too fast for him to even cry out. Flailing madly for a moment in his panic, the navigator found himself drawn into the shadows towards the throne, then swung around to face the great window that made up an entire wall of the room and yawned outwards into space. His thin, dry eyes blinked once as he took in the view presented before him - a great orb of blue and green, frosted with swirls of white clouds and slowly growing larger within the window frame, filling the room with a dull glow.
Then he tensed as a claw, thin as a razor, drew itself along the side of his face. There was breath in his ear, and he winced at the icy chill of it.
"Tell me, navigator," came the voice. "What do they call this planet? Ee-yarth?" The syllables of the last word came thickly, as if they were too big for the mouth forming them, but that tiny detail did noting to reassure the navigator, who was now aware that everyone else in the room was watching him. Most likely they were as frightened as he was. Some colleagues.
The Vulturite gulped. "I... I believe it's pronounced 'Earth', your grace," he croaked, well aware of how dry the inside of his beak was.
A frustrated huff blew bast his ear. "Really? But it has an 'A' in it. Oh, well," hissed the speaker, shifting in her seat a little, "I shall just keep on calling it Ee-yarth anyway. Shan't I?"
"Y-y-yes, your grace." The navigator realised he was nodding furiously out of reflex, and managed to stop himself.
"And how much longer until we breach the atmosphere?" The claw had stopped at his neck. Not good...
"In ab-b-bout eleven Rels, your grace."
"Perfect."
And then there was a twist and a jerk, and the world span crazily for a brief moment before the unfortunate hand-for-hire impacted beak-first with his own console screen, squawking in pain as his body crumpled and slumped to the ground. Through vision blurred by his latest concussion, he espied a blue glint sliding back into the shadows, and reflexively scrabbled out of the prone position, head swimming with terror and possible brain damage as he returned to his station. Hunching over his screen, he heard a giggle from the corner of his ear, and grimaced.
"My dear," came the voice, low and dangerous. "Your unfortunate death shall soon be avenged. This Ee-yarth is soon about to have a new name..."
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-
Greetings, sports fans from around the globe! You've tuned in just in time, for tonight is the world premiere of The Monster Mash 199X, and the first match is just about to begin! The skys are sufficiently dark and clouded over, the sea is choppy and full of unstable volcanoes and two Oceanic Overlords about to duke it out in an underwater brawl for the honour of their country and your entertainment! That's right - it's time for...
This is Connor Hardy, offical commentator of The Monster Mash, reporting to you live from over the Pacific Ocean as it happens...
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Section K. It's the one part of the Pacific Ocean where sailors fear to sail, where swimmers fear to swim and fishermen fear to - yeah, you get the idea. Like a jelly that's still umming and ahing over the whole settling in the dish thing, the floor of this particular stretch of sea is constantly shifting and breaking apart, splitting open in some places and bulging in others. The net result is a boiling cauldron of superheated water and obsidian corals that occasionaly bears witness to spectacular underwater volcanoes bursting like the acne-filled spots of a nervous teenager preparing for his first date, and the sea floor is littered with the corpses of noble vessels that were caught in the churning, frothing malestrom of such an eruption. It is no place for any sensible sailor.
Yet it is here that the sight of a mighty face-off is occuring, takiing up an area of at least sixteen Olympic stadiums or more. A bubbling mass of storm-beaten ocean is encapsulated in a ring of mighty ships, each of them specialy designed to weather the foul conditions of this dreaded patch of water. On the one side, the sleek white fishing boats of Sakana Co., the Second Japanese Empire's most profitable fishing company to date. On the other, the gunmetal grey hulks that comprise the New United Kingdom's finest naval Dreadnaughts, spewing black smoke from their chimneys. The opposing fleets are as contrasting as the countries they serve - a rutheless, war-hungry monarchy against a stifling utopia of captialism and cutesy catgirl mascots.
But the ships have not gathered here to make Section K a battleground. No, their unusual formation is for a different reason entirely - it's to grant them the best views of the spectavle that is about to unfold here in the name of high ratings and global publicity.
On the deck of the Dako Maru, the fastest of Sakana Co.'s fishing boats, the lanky yet scarred form of Admiral Tetsuo Yamamoto raises a hand to the microphone strapped to the side of his head. At the same time, on the control bridge of HMS Hyperion, the oldest ship in Britain's command, Admiral Arthur Winbledon Ponsby Jr. III brushes his bushy mustache aside and turns to his officers.
"Begin."
The Hyperion's prow cranks open like the gaping maw of some iron Hippo With An Eating Disorder on the rampage, and a roaring black shape plunges into the heaving black water. At the same time, a bow wave surges up behind the Dako Maru, reavling a glimpse of mottled orange flesh before diving down beneath the ship to enter the ring of waiting boats.
Hope you have your popcorn ready, sports fans...
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Beneath the turbulent waves, bulging yellow eyes squint as Daidako the Giant Octopus peers through waters made murky by disturbed silt and columns of black smoke spewed by the earth itself. The mammoth mollusc is all too familiar with this territory - it is one of the few places where the megashoals regularly gather after the spawning season, thus providing a bounty for the fishing boats above it. It's hyper-advanced brain flips through carefully-sorted memories of herding the multicoloured masses of fish like some great sheepdog of the sea, corralling the shoals with it's tentacles for it's human masters to scoop up in their nets. It's a place of work, and also a place of danger for the unprepared and unwary.
But this is not the time for reminiscing. The colossal cephalopod knows why it is here, and it's mutant mind is geared for what it is to come. There is an interloper in these waters, something horrible dredged up from ancient times, trying to lay claim to the position of apex predator in this patch of ocean. A challenge that cannot go unignored. And Giant Octopus knows that before this day is out, either it or this intruder will be sinking to the bottom of the ocean as a bloodied corpse, to be claimed by the raging volcanoes beneath or to join the wreckage of lost ships as food for the hagfish. It will be a long and difficult battle, but Japan's Greatest Mascot thinks he can do it.
It continues to swim forward, tentacles trailing behind it like supersized streamers, eyes scanning the water. But the visibility of the water is abysmal - the clouds of volcanic smoke make it murky as all fuck, and the constant rumble of cracking, shifting earth and the occasional ship breaking apart makes it difficult for Daidako to hear the telltale swish of water that would betray an opponent.
So it doesn't notice the multi-ton missile of scales and flesh until it rams it from below and sends it bowling through the ocean.
Centurion the Dinoshark is, to be blunt, fucking bewildered. This is not the ocean it remembers. The niggling little voice that forms racial memories speaks of clear, sunlight waters teeming with tasty food and possibly attractive mates, of long migrations to far-flung coral reefs and chases after shoals of primitive dolphins. But after the indignity of being shut up in a stifling black box and uncerimoniously thrown out of it again, it's trapped in a near-opaque mass of boiling smoke and cracking, glowing earth with nary a fish or coral in sight. So when it caught the scent of prey in the water, the prehistoric predator latched onto that like a goddamned lifeline attached to a rubber ring and followed it through the murky waters until it caught the flash of orange. And it went for it.
But a snarl of frustration escapes the saurian swimmer as it's teeth miss the octopus' juicy flesh by mere millimetres, armoured head merely shoving the mollusc aside like a speeding truck casually knocking a people carrier aside as it speeds down the motorway. With a beat of it's tail, Britain's Triassic contender banks through the boiling water to face it's intended foe, beady eyes locked onto the insidious inverterbrate as it readies itself for another body-breaking charge. What it finds is that, despite the scours in it's jelly-like body from the sharp scales, Daidako has already twisted to face the reptillain intruder, tentacles spread wide in a classic "come at me bro" gesture. Now that the mammoth mollusc has found its enemy, it's not going to become calamari so easily.
Dinoshark and Giant Octopus charge.
The next thing the watchers on the ships know, the water explodes like a birthday cake when it suddenly decides to vomit up the stripper your dorm mates all poured their savings into hiring. But the sight before the two admirals of the opposing countries is anything but alluring - two primeval forces of natures locked together in a bitter struggle, writhing in midair as they try to gain purchase on each other. Then, with the played-out slow-motion glory those fucking Matrix films have instilled into the mainstream media, the oceanic overlords topple back into the ocean, sending up a billow of spray and a mighty wave that rocks fighing ship and dreadnaught alike, causing their commanders to stagger and clutch at the supports to stop themselves going overboard.
Beneath the waves, it's like what one would get if one decides to hold an anti-gravity wrestling match in the middle of a nuclear war. The two monsters roll and revolve in the churning, boiling water, each seeking the leverage they need to get the advantage over the other. The Dinoshark has it's jaws locked around the midsection of the mollusc's body, fangs dangerously close to an eye, but it's razor-sharp teeth can't get a better grip on the spongy flesh. The Giant Octopus, meanwhile, has got the triassic tyrant in a deathgrip with it's tentacles, but it's beak is unable to find a chink in the armoured hide. The two beasts have reached a stalemate, and all around them the ocean itself rages along to the force of their battle.
But Centurion is blinded with anger and bloodlust, his primitive brain shouting kill kill kill over and over like a passive-agressive broken record, and in his throes of rage he has left himself open. Despite the pain from the teeth in his face and the scales cutting into his limbs, Daidako is quick to notice that the British behemoth has had to twist it's neck around in order to get the correct bite angle to hold on, leaving the tender throat exposed. And it's that exposre that the Japanese contender quickly takes advantage of - with the speed of a coked-up cheetah on energy drinks that only a human-octopus hybrid can achieve, a tentacle quickly winds itself around the saurian seagoer's neck and tightens.
The Dinoshark chokes in surprise as it's air supply is cut off, and it releases it's grip on the oversized octopus' body as it writhes to get free. Fatal mistake - the next thing that happens is that Daidako quickly adjusts it's grip, changing position to mount itself on the reptile's back and wind several more tentacles around the frantically snapping jaws. A gargling roar comes as the prehistoric predator find's it's entire mouth being forced even wider open - the mammoth mollusc is trying to pull a King Kong and snap Centurion's jaw in two, ending the conflict as soon as it started.
Viewing the conflict through their shaky, static-filled underwater cameras, the two opposing countries reaction's could not be more different. On the one hand, the Japanese fishermen are whooping with glee and high-fiving, esctatic that their mollusc mascot is literally snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. On the other, the British naval forces watch apprehensively, quietly begging their saurian superweapon to pull through and give that confounded octopus what for. At least a decade of miliraty pride is riding on Centurion's victory - to lose now would be a disgrace to the might of Mother Britannia, and bloody embarrasing as well.
Centurion bucks and struggles, desperate for oxygen. Daidako clings on, tightening it's grip. The volcanic terrain roars and belches fire as if revelling in the sheer primeval anger in their combat. The moment is so tense one could cut it with a knife.
The tension is broken with a sudden wet tearing noise.
If the Giant Octopus could scream with pain, it would. All it can do, however, is widen it's eyes as the Dinoshark reveals that a predator's brain does not mean stupidity, but hidden bestial cunning. With a mighty wrench, the seagoing saurian has snapped it's mouth closed, fanged maw biting through the ensaring limbs that held it's mouth open and ripping them from their sockets like a fat man ripping the crust from his favourite takeaway pizza. Reeling from the pain, the mammoth mollusc reflexively releases it's grip, and the triumphant reptile speeds away into the murky waters, gulping down it's meaty prize and leaving it's foe to trail blood as it hangs in the water from shock.
On the Dako Maru, Tetsuo groans with frustration as his fishermen curse with rage, calling Centurion the worst epiphets their native tongue can conjure. On the HMS Hyperion, Arthur breaths a sigh of relief as his officers cheer for their prehistoric pugilist, with equal amounts of racist insults thrown at Daidako.
Under the water, Daidako quickly recovers from the shock of the attack. Blood trickes into the water from the ripped tentacles as the collosal cephalopod twists this way and that in the water, bulging eyes seeking out the British Behemoth and pay it back for disarming it in such a backhanded manner. But again, what with all the choking columns of smoke and flashes of volcanic activity, it's like trying to find a flatmate in the middle of a dry-ice rave and your phone just ran out of battery. The Japanese contendor knows Centurion could be anywhere, hidden within the smoky water, and it twists in every concievable direction in search of it's foe, eyes rolling madly as it tries to find the reptile.
The blow comes from below.
The next thing that happens is pain. Pain beyond the genetically-enhanced mollusc's whildest nightmares as the Dinoshark's tooth-studded maw locks around the bulging head. Blood spurts into the water as the teeth punch through the soft flesh almost to the brain, and then the world blurs as the seagoing saurian shakes it's captive back and forth like a dog worrying an old ball that was last year's big Christmas present. Of all the things the Giant Octopus would have been ready for, actuvely using the smoke vents to camoflague yourself was something he, strangely enough, didn't prepare for. Maybe we didn't use enough human stem cells...
Then a lurch, and the mammoth mollusc is launched from Centurion's mouth, careening through the bloing water until it hits something with a brain-shaking crunch. The Japanese contender has been thrown into the side of a wrecked whaling ship - one of the many unfortunate victims of Section K's rampant volcanic activity - and the impact has just bent the thing almost in half, cradling the stunned sea monster like a giagantic iron taco. Which is just as well, for the entire thing is balanced precariously on a ridge, and a cursory glance down reveals a massive fissure, growing wider by the second and spewing lava and fire as though the planet's had one vindaloo special too many from the local takeaway.
Roaring in triumph, Centurion beats his tail and streaks towards his downed foe, jaws agape. His nostrils are full of blood and his tongue tastes victory, which tastes a lot like deep-fried calamari. The Giant Octopus's eyes widen in horror as the prehistoric predator speeds out of the gloom, and his eyes dar this way and that in search of some way to turn the tide of the battle. But between his own aching body and the flaming chasm below him, it seems impossible to escape from the inevitable crunching.
Both armardas watch as Britain's Greatest Weapon speeds towards Japan's Greatest Mascot...
BOOM HEADSHOT
With lightning reflexes that would make an Olympic athelete rend his shirt in weeping jealousy, Daidako rips a harpoon cannon from the deck of the whaler and pulls on the firing mechanism. By a complete fluke, the cannon still functions - and the razor-sharp projectile hurls itself through the water and punches through Centurion's skull as if it were paper, punching a neat hole right through the reptile's brain.
Open mouthed, an expression of shock in it's clouding eyes, the corpse of the Dinoshark stalls in the water, blood puring from it's parted jaws. And as the British scream with rage on their boats and pull their moustaches off, their recently-deceased champion slowly sinks into the gaping maw of Section K, engulfed utterly by the firey eruption that surges forth to consume not only the reptile, but the wrecked whaler as well.
In severe pain, all three hearts beating on overdrive from adrenaline but nontheless relieved, Daidako speeds away from the conflagration to join it's masters, who at this very moment nare throwing a party in honour of their finest fisherman this side of the Pacific.
WINNER: GIANT OCTOPUS!
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Woah, what a fight that was, Sports Fans! Rest assured that more astounding brawls will be forthcoming as Round 1 continues, with more exciting entries from all over the world! Those who were brave enough to bet, go collect your winnings from your local betting booth, and don't forget to check out our licensed Daidako merchandise from your local retailers, in honour of our first victor!
Tune in next time for THE MEGA MELEE IN MALIBU, where a whole lot of tourists get chomped and a whole lot of slum villages get flattened, only on THE MONSTER MASH!
Sports fans one and all from around the globe, you can not be ready for the first fight of The Monster Mash 199X!
Here at GaiaCorp, we understand the importance of animal-based tusseling in mainstream television and the daily lives of our viewers. But recent customer surveys have shown that there has been a dramaic rise in interest for nautical battles. You, the public, crave the awe-inspiring sight of two mighty monsters of the deep struggling for supremacy! The swoosh of water, the flash of a fin or flipper, billowing blood clouds and the melancholy sight of a once-proud beast drifting to the bottom of the ocean as a limp, lifeless corpse! And who are we to argue with our public? A bunch of morally-questionable PhD-wavers, that's who! And so, because you fine folks demanded it, here come the contestants of our first match: THE PUNCH-UP IN THE PACIFIC! IN THE BLUE CORNER...
The New United Kingdom is under constant siege by sea.
It's rapid expansion to devour frozen Denmark, the entirety of Old Ireland and
the nuclear-war-demolished France have earned it a grand list of enemies, most
notably the newly-formed Communist Spain. And when push comes to shove, when
mighty steam-powered Dreadnaughts just can't cut it, the British send in their
most terrible weapon to date. A loathsome leviathan of teeth, scale and muscle,
surging up from the time of the dinosaurs to sink entire battleships with one bite. He is Centurion the DINOSHARK!
Dinoshark’s origins are kinda complicated. We found the
original specimen frozen in Siberia at least a decade ago while Manhattan was
screaming about giant robots and shadow monsters, and tucked away some samples
of flesh and blood for later use. We didn’t think we’d actually need it until
the British called us up saying they had a slight Communist Spain problem, and
could we maybe send a little something over? It didn’t take us long to wip out
the culture dishes and get the splicers rolling, and we awaited the hatching
with the same glee Richard Attenborough showed on Jurassic Park. A decade
later, Dinoshark’s job was done, and now he’s fighting for his life and your
entertainment.
So, Dinoshark is about 13 metres (43 feet) long, and his teeth
alone reach up to lengths of 30 centimetres (12 in). He’s pretty much
everything you’d expect from an underwater predator of his calibre – he’s fast,
got terrifying turns of speed and likes to strike his opponents from below,
where they won’t be able to fight back. On top of that, his armoured body means
he’s impenetrable to most ballistic firearms, with only his throat and eyes
being his weakpoints. That said, he doesn’t do very well in cold waters,
turning sluggish if he says anywhere below tropical temperatures for too long,
and his prehistoric brain has trouble making quick decisions on the fly. But
who needs a big brain when you have teeth like those?
IN THE RED CORNER...
The Second Japanese Empire prides itself on self-sufficiency. It's success in cornering the fishing industry stems from jealously-guarded patches of water off the northern coast, where the warm tropical waters give birth to thousands of megashoals of the tastiest sea-life. So not only did they want a creature that could keep poachers, unlisenced fishing companies and America from nicking their bounty, they also wanted something that could be used as a cutesy mascot for their propaganda films and posters. Ladies and gentlemen, Daidako the GIANT OCTOPUS!
Trust the Japanese to commission something like this. Don’t
their comic books have enough of this kind of shit going on? Regardless, we at
GaiaCorp are never ones to judge, and what those fish-hoarding bureaucrats do
in their spare time is none of our concern. Scaling up your average octopus was
the easy bit – the hard part was mixing in the human stem cells in a way that
ensured the higher brain functions necessary to guard the megashoals from Japan’s
rivals, rather than a blobby mass of neurotic flesh like in that one anime I
watched once. Ugh, that was sick and twisted. What is up with those guys- oh,
yeah, this octopus has a human brain. Did I mention that?
Daidako is around 15 metres (49 feet) long, and most of
that consists of his tentacles. These things are his primary weapons – with these
he strangles, slaps and bludgeons anything that comes to close to his charges
or masters. Couple that with the amazing problem-solving skills of his enhanced
brain, and you have a creature that is not above using impromptu weapons or
improvising. However, being a mollusc means his body doesn’t have the hard
shell of most of our competitors, and he moves sluggishly in cold waters,
explaining why the Japanese use dry ice to keep him in suspended animation when
the shoals migrate. Hopefully, his smarts will make up for his weaknesses.
THE ARENA
The Pacific Ocean has long been considered neutral territory, despite what alliances and hostilities exist between countries. The stage of our battle takes place slap-bang in the middle of Section K, a designated no-go zone for most ships due to it's rather bad habit of barfing up giant volcanoes and the occasional fire-breathing monster. But it's here where the mighty megashoals congregate every summer, meaning the Japanese fishing fleets and Daidako run a great risk every time they venture out to collect more food for the growing empire. Such is the price of power.
So, adoring public, who will win this collosal clash of supersized sea-goers? Will it be Centurion, the Triassic Terror with dagger-like teeth and armoured hide? Or will it be Daidako, the Mammoth Mollusc with his enhanced, totally-legal-we-swear-to-god brain? Only your votes can decide the winner!
