The Ring
"SHUN DI!" (VF3)
Chin Gentsai, from the elimination seating, jeered at Shun as he entered the RumbleDome. "C'mon... you panshy. I bet you drink... Zima. Yeah. I bet you drink that schtuff. Don't'cha." He chortled. "Zima."
Shun staggered down to the ring, either ignoring Chin's taunts or too drunk to recognize the language. Whatever his mental state, though, he was able to accidentally bump into a beer vendor on his way down. The vendor didn't realize that he had been robbed dry until twenty minutes later.
"NECRO!" (SF3:2I)
Some of the angriest music known to man burst out over the speakers as Necro stretched his way towards the ring. As he passed, audience members who got too close were rewarded by having all their hair stand on end, caught in a burst of static electricity.
o/~ Feeling like a freak on a leash/ You wanna see the light/ Feeling like I have no release/So do I/ How many times have I felt diseased/You wanna see the light/Nothing in my life is free... is free... o/~
As he reached the side of the ring, Necro paused for a moment, intently studying Captain America as he fought against the Juggernaut, as if he was listening for something.
"What the hell is he waiting for--" Wanderer began.
Suddenly, the speakers howled:
o/~ GO! o/~
Necro went.
"RYO SAKAZAKI!" (KOF96)
"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... well, some of you, anyway..."
Ryo slowly entered the arena, looking slightly out of breath and holding his side. As he did, the arena suddenly lit up, the screen overhead showing a montage of scenes from his fight with Demitri Maximov, jump-cut and edited all to hell. The scenes of Demitri pummeling the crap out of him were discreetly left out.
As he slowly approached the ring, Yuri waving at him and giving him a thumbs-up, the audience reacted slowly. There was the usual die-hard contingent of fans waving "KEN MASTERS #1" signs by mistake, and others yelling for him to give Ken his head and gi back, but for once, they were overpowered by the cheering.
Ryo was a hero, and he entered the ring like one.
He had thirty seconds of glory before it all went to hell.
"KEN MASTERS!" (SF3:2I)
"You evil slime," Wanderer said.
Birdman smiled beatifically. "I do what I can."
"SAKAZAKI!" Ken yelled over the crowd, running down towards the ring. He completely ignored the legions of fans screaming his name. Ken vaulted the "ropes", landed on his feet, and poked Ryo in the chest. "We've got to have words, pal."
"Is there a problem?" Ryo said mildly.
"Yeah, there's a problem, scrub. You kinda stole my look, my moves, my gi," he paused to brush his bangs out of his face, "my hair... in other words, pal," he pushed Ryo back, "there's already a Ken Masters, and that's me. The position's taken."
"Don't be stupid. I didn't even know who you were until the second Dream Tournament. I'm not trying to rip you off."
Ken snorted. "Then why haven't you changed your look, scrub? I'm obviously better than you."
Ryo took a step forward. "What did you say?"
"I said, scrub, that I'm gonna kick your ass. Your style's a cheap copy, and you're a cheap joke." Ken fell into his stance. "C'mere so I can prove it."
"I don't have to prove a thing to you, Masters." Ryo raised his hands. "But if it'll make you happy..."
As Ken dashed in to attack, he didn't notice Yuri, slowly creeping around behind him.
Sub-Basements, RumbleDome Hotel
"YoU wErE sLoW tO aRrIvE, dEiMoS," Asmodeus said.
"Rashid was forced to leave. He enters the tournament shortly. Without him, these dungeons are doubly treacherous," Deimos replied smugly. Ordinarily, it would have taken an effort to bite back a scathing reply, but Asmodeus looked like it had been placed in a bag and dragged over sharp rocks. Its scales were cracked and leaking a thick fluid that hissed as it struck the floor. Deimos enjoyed seeing Asmodeus suffer.
"ExCuSeS dO nOt MaTtEr," Asmodeus hissed. "OnLy ReSuLtS. yOu HaVe SoMeThInG tO dO fOr Me."
"Do I, now?"
"SiLeNcE, wOrM." Asmodeus paused to place a claw over a segment of scales that had nearly come free. When it removed its claw, the scales were attached firmly yet again. "tHeRe Is A sOrCeReR nAmEd QuAn ChI wHo MuSt Be BrOuGhT tO mE. hE hAs BeTrAyEd Me, By AcCiDeNt Or DeSiGn. FiNd HiM."
"Certainly, O Great and Dread Lord of Europe."
"Do NoT mOcK mE, fOoL. i Am StIlL yOuR mAsTeR." Asmodeus set a burning gaze on Deimos, who found it within himself to not flinch. Behind him, Dregan slowly turned away, clearing what was left of his throat, and the Executioner took a step backward.
"Of course." Deimos could see that Asmodeus was, for whatever reason, at a low ebb. He'd seen the beast take a flurry of crossbow bolts from an English army and heal instantly before wading in among the men, tearing them limb from limb with casual sweeps of its claws. Whatever had hit Asmodeus had either somehow hurt it beyond its ability to conveniently heal, or it...
...had taken the Mace of Tanis from Asmodeus.
Deimos, as this sunk in, bit back a cry of frustration.
"WhIlE yOu ArE iN tHe ArEa, FiNd McWiLd As WeLl, DeImOs."
"Of course, Asmodeus." Deimos turned away, muttering profanities learned from demons behind his visor. Now, his task had become twice as imposing.
Now, he had to find who had taken the Mace from Asmodeus as well, and, somehow, take it back.
Sub-Basements, RumbleDome Hotel
"I wish Yoshi could've come down here with us," Lion said, poking at his bandaged chest.
"He just would've had to turn back around and leave," Rimururu said. "I wouldn't mind having him along either."
"Why are we down here again?"
"Because this 'Deimos' is, boy," Torgo growled. "If we kill him, the threat's over, true?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so..."
"Then stop yer bellyachin'."
The three of them proceeded through the tunnels, looking for signs of Deimos. They found none, but they found the same thing everyone else did within the corridors of the basement: the signs of a recently fought war. Most of the combatants had, by now, evacuated or been defeated, but the signs still remained. The ground was treacherous in some places from dropped shell casings, and periodically, they would run across dead men, clad in black Kevlar and stacked like cordwood, felled one at a time or by the division. All three noticed the winged skull on the dead men's uniforms. None of them knew it was the symbol of Shadoloo. Torgo took the lead then, grumbling about having to carry the flashlight in his mouth so he could handle his hammer.
As they moved across the basement, gagging on the smells of cordite and blood, they discovered two things.
One was the heavily bleeding body of a man in a black tuxedo, leaning against a wall. He was alive, albeit comatose, and held an empty gilded gun in either hand. Torgo and Lion hoisted the man onto their shoulders and, after Rimururu spent five minutes yelling at them, began to head back.
On their way back to the surface, they discovered the second.
As Rimmy rounded a corner, Lion and Torgo behind her, she heard raised voices and instantly moved back, holding up a finger to Lion and Torgo.
A bone-crushing thud sounded from down the hallway.
Rimururu held up a second finger, drew her knife, and cautiously crept down the hallway. Lion, after putting the body down, crept after her, Torgo staying behind due to his heavy armor. As they reached the commotion, they noticed a flashlight beam flickering around wildly, and then drop to the floor.
"You may have defeated Voodoo, mortal, but can you survive--"
"You can't escape!"
*THUD* *THUD* *THUD* *SNAP*
"--buhh..." *thump*
As Rimmy and Lion rushed into view, their flashlight illuminated two broken bodies lying against the wall, and a blond man in overalls roughly the size of Wyoming. As they came closer, he turned towards them and held out his hands in a wrestler's crouch. "Stop right there."
"No, we're here to help you..." Rimururu, noticing the two unconscious men, let it trail off.
"...drag the bodies, maybe?" Lion finished for her. "Hi. Lion Rafale." He stepped forward, his hand out.
The man shook it. "Alex."
"Pleased to meet you. Look, pardon the intrusion, but have you seen, by chance, a tall man, maybe two and a half meters, red armor, two-handed sword, generally unpleasant? Or a man who looks like a lion? We're sort of looking for them."
"Can't say as I have."
"Ah, well. Thanks for your time." Lion turned away.
"Wait."
"Yes?"
Alex scratched his head. "What are two kids doing down here?"
"Preemptive rescue mission, really. Kind of secret, I think...?" Lion looked at Rimururu.
"It's not really a secret. The man in the armor wants to capture a couple of people and take their souls." Alex raised an eyebrow, and Lion shrugged. "Seems to be the standard for evil people around here... We figured we'd find him and defeat him before he could do anything like that."
"Why don't you defend the people who he's trying to capture?"
"Well, Guy's in the ring... we don't know where Demitri is..."
"Ryo's in the ring now, too," Lion supplied.
"...which leaves that McWild simpleton," Torgo concluded, coming up with the body dragging behind him.
"A dwarf?" Alex said.
"Aye, and if ye continue gawkin', ye'll be my height due to yer kneecaps leavin' yer legs, lad."
"Fair enough."
"...you know what, Lion?" Rimururu said, blushing slightly. "I'll bet we could find Jeffry. It's been long enough."
Lion slapped himself in the forehead.
"Then let's go," Alex said. "I'm not getting anything done down here. I might as well go fight evil or something."
"Why are you down here?" Lion asked.
"Trying to find Maximov. He's worth a lot."
"Ah."
"Let me take that, shorty." Alex picked the body up with one hand and hoisted it over his shoulder.
"The name's Torgo, ox-brain."
"Whatever."
They headed for the stairwells.
Somewhere
Eddy Gordo materialized in a flash of light.
As he did, he checked himself for railgun slugs or missing limbs, unsure what had just happened to him. As he did, he barely caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and something that glistened pink nearly tore off his face.
Eddy threw himself to the side and rolled, coming up to face this new threat. He was expecting anything but what he saw.
Something spread its wings and came in for another pass at him. Whatever it was, it was big, with wings like a pterodactyl writ small and a beak to match. It was uniformly the angry pink of suddenly exposed muscle, and it had a hunger for human flesh. As it swooped around again, Eddy leaped up to meet it with an Inferno Kick, sending it crashing to the ground. As it was still moving, he ran over and kicked the thing until he heard something inside it snap, wishing that he wasn't barefoot.
He took a moment to look around. Eddy stood in the middle of an empty street, as snow fell gently all around him, despite the warm weather. On either side of him, he could see the faint outline of shops and houses, like those of an affluent suburban town. There was no one in sight. In every direction, he could only see for a few feet before the thick bank of fog he'd materialized in obscured vision. Inadvertently, Eddy shivered.
Somewhere, out in the fog, he could hear flapping wings, and the soft pad of an animal's feet.
Eddy took off at a dead run, as if all the demons of Hell were on his heels.
As he soon found out, they were.
Control Tower, RumbleDome
"In our ongoing effort to provide entertainment for the masses," Wanderer said, "we've thrown everyone's favorite dancer, Eddy Gordo, into a sleepy little town called Silent Hill. As you may have noticed," on the DimensionCam, Eddy took a flying leap over an oncoming demon and kept running, "the new inhabitants of the town don't like him much at all."
Birdman put his hand over the 'phone's receiver. "Kathy says we just got another hundred million from the Jihad."
"Watch and enjoy, folks," Wanderer said. He was grinning helplessly.
The Ring
"JEDAH!" (DS3)
Looking much the worse for wear, Jedah gently flew towards ringside. As he cleared the "ropes", he immediately flung himself at Ryo, his claws heading straight for the back of Ryo's head. Ryo didn't notice, but Ken did, shoving his opponent out of the way; Jedah pulled out of the move just in time to avoid Ken's Shoryuken.
"Have you noticed both Ryo and Jedah look like they've gotten their asses kicked recently?" Wanderer said.
"Yeah, a little..." Birdman made a note. "We'll have Mimic interview them when they leave the ring."
"BLUE MARY!" (RBFFS)
Another one of Mai's selections went into the CD player, rather than Mary's usual Japanese elevator blues. This time, it was Soul Coughing, and Mary didn't seem to mind at all.
o/~ Easy places to get away to / Easy limbs languid all around you / All my time is / dirt on your hands / fingers drifting / down my spine now o/~
Taking her time, Mary strolled down to the ring, letting her arms move slightly with the music. She paused occasionally to shake a fan's hand. Several people, fearing her taser, were actively trying to get away from her.
"You aren't gonna fanboy, are you?" Birdman said to Wanderer, who was clapping.
"No, I'm a professional. I'm not going to be a fanboy."
"Good."
"However, when Terry Bogard hits the ring, I will fanboy like you have never seen before in your life."
"Oboy."
As she reached the ring, Mary paused for a moment, then abruptly Spinfell over the "ropes", driving the back of her heel into the Juggernaut's instep. The Juggernaut, busily throwing punches at Heavy D! with little success, didn't notice.
o/~ Fall, fall, fall, fall, fall, fall / soundtrack to Mary... o/~
"YOSHIMITSU!" (T3)
The audience exploded into cheers and applause. Somewhere along the line, Yoshimitsu had become a fan favorite, and he was perfectly aware of it. As the robot entered the ring, his laser sword out and sparking, the speakers shook with a theme that no one had requested or programmed.
"I think he's tapped into our system, man," Wanderer said, watching the CD player turn off by itself. "Just a guess."
The theme, a heavily remixed version of "Jungle Boogie", blaring at volume levels usually reserved for Michael Bay movies, only barely drowned out the crowd's reaction. Yoshimitsu didn't help matters when he jumped up on the railing between the front-row seats and the stands, waving his sword.
"PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" Yoshimitsu shouted through his onboard speakers. "LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE 'BOT!"
The audience, laughing and screaming Yoshimitsu's name, complied.
"Gotta say one thing," Birdman said, his hands in his ears, "he knows how to work a crowd."
"Can't hear a damn thing you're saying, Birdman."
"What?"
Yoshimitsu put both his arms in the air, lights flashing from his armor, and shouted "FRAMPTON COMES ALIVE!" As the audience screamed his name, the ninja suddenly dropped back off the railing into a lotus position, his sword held up; seconds later, he spun and vanished, springing up directly behind Hanzo Hattori.
"Hel-LO bay-BEE!" Yoshimitsu said happily, slashing at Hanzo's back.
Control Tower, RumbleDome
The intercom buzzed.
Birdman picked it up. "Yeah? Oh, Christ, again? Didn't they get it last time? Never mind, I'll deal with it personally."
Wanderer looked at him quizzically. "What's up?"
Birdman shrugged. "You can watch on the monitor if you like." He gestured at the small monitor which linked to the security camera that was positioned just outside the broadcast booth entrance. On the screen were no less than half a dozen World Heroes.
Wanderer blinked. "What do they want?"
"To be in the Rumble, of course."
"But I thought you told them no."
Birdman stood. "I did."
---
"...and for the last time, no, you can't be in the Rumble. Not this year, and probably not ever again unless we do a seniors' tour. Go away."
Jack flexed his claws. "Look, we aren't asking, little man."
Birdman shook his head. "No, you're begging, and let me just say it's pretty pathetic."
Fuuma shoved Jack out of the way. "We deserve to compete! We are the World Heroes! We are legends!"
"No, you're not legends. The original Street Fighters are legends. You're nobodies. You don't draw ratings, hence you don't compete."
"But we're good fighters! We have many victories!" Ryoko protested.
Birdman shook his head. "You were good fighters. Your Rumble records are, quite frankly, pathetic, and you haven't had a victory in the Dream Tournament since #3, and all of those were by people who, I see, are not here, because they had better things to do. You can boast all you like about your glorious battles in your home node; they don't count for a damned thing and you know it."
Julius Carn harrumphed. "Your invitation was insulting. A request to join the..." His voice nearly curdled in disgust. "... autograph gallery. Next to the Red Karate Master. We still have fight in us!"
"I'm sure you do. Maybe some other tournament will require your resources, but we are packed beyond measure; many nodes merely got one representative."
Johnny Maximum snarled. "We didn't get any!"
Birdman shrugged. "It didn't seem to bother Kidd. Or Kim Dragon, or Janne, or any of the others who aren't here whining. And, coincidentally, haven't completely embarrassed themselves in past tournaments."
Brocken gasped. "You DARE..."
"Shut up. This is your last warning, understood? I have enough problems on my plate without having to put up with your tiresome and increasingly irrelevant complaints." With that, Birdman stepped back through the door.
The Ring
"SASQUATCH!" (DS3)
"Folks, I do not understand what Mai Shiranui was smoking when she gave me this request," Wanderer began, "but as I am a man who keeps his promises, especially to beautiful exhibitionist ninjas, I am forced to comply." He hit "play".
o/~ Frosty the Snowman / was a jolly happy soul / With a corncob pipe / and a button nose / And two eyes made out of coal... o/~
Sasquatch bounded into the arena seconds later, clapping joyously and dancing to its beat. While he did give several people diabetes on his way to ringside, he more than made up for it when he gobbled up Shun Di.
Control Tower, RumbleDome
As Birdman strapped his headset back on, Wanderer looked at him. "Harsh, man."
"Necessary." Birdman fumbled with the controls. "The World Heroes were never really the players they made themselves out to be in the first place; their successes in the early years of multinode fighting were due largely to a lack of seasoned competitors."
"Okay, I'll play devil's advocate here... you think there's hope for a renaissance?"
Birdman shook his head. "Their node has always had a distinct lack of fighters in comparison to other nodes. The node that holds the Street Fighters, for example, boasts nearly fifty capable fighters; the node where the Samurai Shodown and King of Fighters tournaments exist have a rich history of fighting. There, when a loser like Jack Turner..."
Wanderer interrupted. "Or Richard Meyer?"
"Exactly...when someone like that pops up into a tournament, he gets his ass handed to him because there's so much better competition in the node. The World Heroes node never really got that level of intensity of fighting competition going, and so their fighting style never evolved."
"What about Gtangan?"
"Gtang...oh, right, the Aggressors of Dark Kombat. I hear their last PPV tanked big. I mean, their big star and most talented competitor was Fuuma..."
"Keep going."
Birdman shrugged. "Look, back in the old days when the Heroes made their debut, special techniques were the new, hot thing; they were so popular that they overshadowed the need for a basic fighting skill. If you had good moves, you could win tournaments with ease. Problem is, special moves only take you so far; you need to know the basics as well, because you can win with basics more simply than you can with specials. Most of the World Heroes have horrible basic fighting skills, so they have to rely on their special moves, and their special moves aren't really that impressive to begin with. The only ones that can even manage to be competitive are those of them who have really useful special move sets, like Kidd, or those with really weird ones, like Mudman. Truth is, most World Heroes, in that ring, are less able to compete than your average Time Killer."
"I'm going to tell the TKs you said that."
Birdman shuddered. "Please don't. Anyway, the double edge of this particular sword is that since the Heroes spend most of their time squashing the even-worse "competition" their home nodes provide, they think they're up to snuff, and they aren't. Take Johnny Maximum; ego the size of a battleship and freakin' Dan Hibiki could kick his ass in less than five seconds. So we have to deal with crap like what just happened outside."
"How come none of this ever makes it into our commentary?"
Birdman tossed Wanderer a small cue card. "Commercial sponsorship. Like we have time to ruminate on this during the commentary. Are we back from commercial yet?...On in five? Cool."
Camera Room, RumbleDome Hotel
The tape of the World Heroes encountering the UVR executive in the hallway had been enlightening, Demitri mused. Slaves were useful, certainly, but unsubtle, and thus unsuited for his current strategies of survival.
However, patsies, on the other hand, were not only acceptable...they were to be preferred. How best to con these World Heroes, whom I have already enslaved once, into my service once again, without coercion?
Demitri chuckled to himself. But of course.
Lounge, RumbleDome Hotel
"I SAID, I wannanother GIN AN' TONIC RIGHT NOW! On secon' thought, hold the tonic." Ryoko was, in her ongoing effort to not be cute, stinking drunk. The bartender was only still serving her because she got violent when she didn't get served.
Shura pounded the table in frustration. "It is unfair! I have personally bested every Muay Thai on our node ten times!"
Julius Carn nodded. "Indeed, youngling. Many knew the wrath of my fists as well."
"Me too!"
Carn laughed. "Surely you jest, Gokuu."
Gokuu looked irritated. "I was working up to it."
Jack stretched back in his chair. "Did anybody actually go to that autograph session?"
Muscle Power nodded sadly. "Yeah, I did. Five hours, three autographs. The White Karate Master had a line stretching around the block."
Ryofu shrugged. "The fans of multinode combat never could appreciate our talents. We have been cheated, my friends."
Neo-Dio stared into his beer. "To be cheated, Ryofu, we had to have something in the first place. We're losers. Deal with it. You people going to Birdman was a stupid idea to begin with."
Johnny Maximum growled. "We are not losers, Dio. Perhaps you may be a loser, but I have been granted my unholy strength by the Dark Gods of Football! I am Destiny's child!"
Erick nodded. "Quite right! Know your place, Dio."
A cavalcade of agreement followed.
Brocken looked around. "You know, I think the other nodes agreed to band together against us. Because we're not marketed as well as they are. We threaten them, you know."
Fuuma nodded. "In my time with the Aggressors of Dark Kombat, I learned that marketing is everything in internodal success."
Neo-Dio groaned. "Fuuma, could you PLEASE shut up about the goddamned Aggressors of Dark Kombat?"
"Actually, my friends...I would like to hear about it."
The familiar, lilting Transyvanian accent caused everyone to stand, ready to fight--except Neo-Dio, fatalistically drinking his beer, and Ryoko, who fell down drunkenly--and kill. Demitri Maximov strode into the room, unconcerned with their hostile reaction.
Muscle Power grinned. "See, guys? We got us a miracle here. We take down Demitri, and they GOTTA put us into the tournament!"
Carn smiled back. "Indeed! It is a worthy plan. We shall smite this one, and regain the legendary status that the other fighters stole from us like dogs!"
Demitri yawned. "I'm sure that will work."
Zeus' fists lowered. "What are you saying?"
Demitri sat down, unworried by the fighters surrounding him. "Do you really think that killing me will help you in the long term? Certainly, killing the multiverse's Public Enemy Number One might garner you short term acclaim, but in the long run, those other fighters will just use their political wiles and you will be right back where you are now--forgotten, drinking beer in an abandoned bar, while those who stole your deserved glory contest in the greatest of tournaments."
Neo-Dio stared into his beer some more.
Demitri continued. "Once you were idolized, and then the people found their new hot sensation and forgot about you. Do you not understand that glory is a fleeting thing?"
None of the World Heroes spoke.
"You say you are forgotten, and rightly so. You say you will kill me, and you can if you like, but I ask you this: who will remember you in a decade's time? Do they remember John Dillinger, or the federal agent who killed him? Mussolini, or the leader of the mob that lynched him? Elizabeth Bathory, or the men who imprisoned her? You can kill me, but the Multiverse will never forget me. In a century's time, my name will be whispered to children to scare them into silence, and yours will be footnotes. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you may have a high school named after you; in those schools, where the names are meaningless, there will be street gangs that worship me as a dark god, committing crimes in my name."
The silence was deafening.
"Or, you can take the third option." Demitri examined the wine Zeus had been drinking, sniffed at it slightly, and put it back down, not bothering to show his distaste more palpably.
A few seconds passed before Shura spoke. "What is this third option?"
"You call yourselves heroes, but the truth is that you are not. Heroes are idolized by the people; they are worshipped by their lessers. You are nobodies. You call yourselves heroes, but heroes are upright, moral figures, better than the teeming masses; yet today you have attempted to force your way into a tournament where you were not wanted, all for your own gratification. Heroes? You are not heroes, and never could be such. But villains..." Demitri paused. "Villains, you could be. Quite excellently."
Muscle Power slammed the table in front of him. "Never!"
"Oh, I do not think you really believe that, Power. I fed from many of you, and enslaved you. And in your enslavement, I asked questions of you, and you answered me honestly. I heard of Fuuma's homicidal hatred for his brother ninja Hanzou, and Brocken's cold metallic hatred of life. I heard of Johnny Maximum's dark pacts in his basement at the age of twelve, and Jack's predilection for pulling the wings from flies. I heard of Muscle Power's steroid abuse while preaching to his fans to 'stay clean' and I heard Shura's tale of breaking his sensei's neck in equal combat to forever prove his superiority. And as for those of you from whom I did not feed...I doubt you are much better."
Neo-Dio laughed grimly. "So, what do you want them to do?"
"I want them to admit to themselves who they are, and who they can be. I want you, all of you, to stop skulking behind this hypocritical shield of purity and admit that you are evil in your hearts; I want to hear you proclaim, with proud souls, that you are the basest of tyrants, that you live only for yourselves; I want you to realize that this admission is not a weakness but a virtue, for in it you proclaim that you are greater than those who would chain you with their inapplicable rules and laws and moral codes."
Demitri stood. "Enough of this. I have spent enough time on you. If you wish to rise above your lessers, follow me to the subcorridor behind the bar; if not, stay here and drink yourselves into obscurity. Your choice will prove your fitness for the station you deserve."
Almost before he could turn around, Gokuu, Jack, Fuuma, and Johnny Maximum were walking to the subcorridor; a moment later, Shura, Brocken, Erick, Zeus, Ryofu, and a suddenly sober Ryoko followed. Demitri smiled inwardly and turned to the remainder as the World Ex-Heroes walked into the corridor and out of earshot.
"And you?"
Julius Carn sat down heavily in his chair. "They say that all men have a test brought to them by the gods at some point. I will not argue the fact that I wish glory upon my name and upon my house, for I do. But you promise only notoriety, in which there is no honor..." Carn trailed away. "If I were a greater man, perhaps I might attack you and try to bring you down, despite the weak followers you have now surrounded yourself with who would no doubt guard you. I am not great enough, it would seem. But I am still my own man, and I say no. Go forth, demonspawn. Do not speak to me again; next time, I may not be so troubled."
Demitri nodded. "You might yet one day be an opponent worthy of notice. And you, Dio?"
Neo-Dio threw back the rest of his beer in one gulp. "You said you could give us fame. So what? I never had any fame. I can live without it."
Demitri smiled. "You are cleverer than you seem, Dio. Perhaps one day I may once again employ your services, willingly or no." He backed away towards the subcorridor entrance. "But until then, you have my best wishes, and should death come upon you, be it swift." He bowed deeply and closed the door behind him.
Carn looked at Dio. "What have we seen here today?"
Dio poured himself another beer. "Maybe a new beginning for them. Maybe a new beginning for us. In any case, I think I'm going to get very drunk."
"A good idea."
The Ring
Silverbolt suddenly appeared in the doorway to the control room with a tape in his hands. "Play this."
"Why should we?" Birdman asked.
"It's the funniest damn thing I've ever heard. Athena Asamiya just dropped it off; she says Kensou begged her to record this."
"If this is her usual bubblegum crap..."
"It's not, trust me."
"KABUKI JO!" (WG)
As Kabuki Jo entered, the speakers cracked and popped. As the audience looked up at them curiously, Sie Kensou's voice came over them suddenly, singing in very high-pitched English. As a matter of fact, it sounded eerily familiar...
"Weellll..."
"He didn't." Wanderer's voice was flat.
"I think he did..." Birdman said.
"...the War Gods suck they really really suck they suck the most in the whole wide world if anyone sucks then they really suck they suck and scare the boys and girls!"
Kabuki Jo looked up at the speakers and tilted his head to the side. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was being made fun of.
"Kensou does a frighteningly good Cartman voice, doesn't he?" Wanderer said softly. Both Birdman and Silverbolt nodded.
"...on Mondays they suck and on Tuesdays they suck and Wednesday through Saturday they often suck and then on Sunday, just to be different, they super really king-size mega SUCK!"
At this point, the audience was dying in their seats, and even some of the fighters paused to crack a grin. Kabuki Jo still didn't get it, and had decided to proceed to the ring anyway. Many things about the modern age confused him.
"...have you ever met the War Gods, well, they suck the most in the whole wide world, they're mean old gods and they have stupid clothes, they suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, they really suck, the War Gods suck and they smell bad too, the Waaarrrrr Godddsssss... reeeaaallllyyyyy sssuuuuuuuuuucccckkkkk..... ah!"
"How much did you pay Kensou, Silverbolt?"
"Um..."
"AL'RASHID!" (M:tDA)
The assassin was already in the ring when Kabuki Jo entered, having managed to slip by him in the confusion. As the War God jumped over the "ropes", Rashid attacked him furiously, doing his level best to push Kabuki Jo back out.
Neither saw Rogue flying hell-for-leather towards them from behind.
"LI LONG!" (SE)
Showing off came naturally to Li, and as he strode down to the ring, his nunchaku were a spinning blur in his hands.
Let the other questors for Soul Edge fight to win. Li Long was here to display some style, and, as he tore into Blue Mary, he did just that.
And, the final fighter of this Section...
"ERLAND!" (I&B)
He still felt woozy, and he wasn't exactly building on a reputation of success, but Erland tried to stay confident. His quiver was full, he was in decent shape, and he was out to avenge his fellows' defeat.
As he jumped into the ring, and fired his first arrow at the Juggernaut, he couldn't help but feel overmatched. When his arrow broke against the Juggernaut's helmet, and the laughing giant charged him, Erland decided that the feeling was right.
WHO WILL LIVE?
WHO WILL DIE?
WILL THAT BE THE LAST REALLY GRATUITOUS "SOUTH PARK" REFERENCE?