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...
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!
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!
