Re: The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round One: Storage Park!]
08-25-2012, 04:07 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
The storage unit was as large as the Coach could afford, and then the inside made larger than the outside by some strenuous remodeling, so that it was the size of a small warehouse. A single strip of fluorescent lighting illuminated the Coach himself, the eight orphans accompanying him, and their eight guests. The Coach sat his camcorder on a stool and took a quick note of the focus, then stood in front of it.
“Um... hello,” he said. “Welcome to the Three Hundred Thousand Dollar Fight-A-Thon. I’m the Coach. I run a home for troubled children here in town, and some of my kids and I—“
“Hi!” interjected one of the children.
“Shush, T.J.,” warned the Coach. “Your turn to talk comes later. Ahem. Some of my kids and I thought we could start up one of these battles as a fundraiser. So, for those of you watching at home... your donations are appreciated. Thank you. Now,” he said excitedly, turning back to the orphans, “Let’s give our viewers a taste of what they’re in for, okay? Time for show and tell.”
“Show and tell!” whooped the orphans.
“Ron, you’re first,” announced the Coach, picking up the camcorder.
Ron stepped in front of the camera, dragging his contestant by the ear. “My show-and-tell, um, thing today is called [color=#P1914]Ironjaw[/color],” he projected in what might be referred to as an “outdoor voice.” “Ironjaw is the coolest because he is both a shark and a human. He loves fighting. Thank you.”
The other orphans clapped as Ron departed the stage. “Thank you, Ron, that was very nice,” said the Coach. “Flo, you’re next.”
Flo, the littlest girl among all the orphans, hid out of sight of the camera and shook her head nervously.
“Awww, come on, Flo, don’t be shy,” encouraged the Coach.
Flo clamped her hands in front of her face.
The Coach walked over to the girl. “You know, I get nervous in public too, Flo.”
“You do?” whispered the girl.
“I sure do. And you know what I do to help me relax?”
Flo shook her head.
“I imagine the audince without skin.” The Coach explained. “Stripped of all lies and pretense. I imagine them as disgusting masses of meat, dying of shock and exposure.”
Flo giggled.
“You want to try it?”
Flo thought for a long while, then nodded.
“Okay, you go up there and show them who’s boss.”
Flo stepped in front of the camera holding a disgruntled-looking cat. “Hi,” she said. “This is Felus. ...He’s a kitty.” And then she ran offscreen.
“That was very good,” said the Coach, patting the girl on the head. “Gary, you wanna give it a try?”
Gary adjusted his glasses and walked in front of the camera. “This is Warden, of the Sixth Ring,” he declared in a smugly nasal drone. “He’s a demonic lord whose soul was placed inside a clock. Now he tortures bullies and criminals.”
“And nerds,” interrupted another orphan.
“Shut up, Calvin,” sneered Gary.
“Be nice, kids,” warned the Coach. “Just because we’re sending these contestants to their deaths doesn’t mean we have to be mean to each other, too. Gary, please continue.”
“I was done anyway,” sniffed Gary, storming offstage.
“Alright that’s fine, you did very well. Calvin, since you’re so chatty, why don’t you go next?”
“Why don’t I?” repeated the tallest orphan, a rough-looking kid in a baseball cap. He threw an ordinary-looking man in front of the camera. “I don’t know what this guy’s name is,” Calvin confessed proudly. “I found him in the hall.” He stuck his tongue out and ran away.
The Coach sighed. “We’ll talk later, Hogan. Linc, is your contestant ready?”
“Yep!” Linc rode in front of the camera on his signature skateboard, his contestant floating behind him submissively. “Hey, this is Thize,” he declared boldly. “He’s a mutant fish guy. Kinda like Ron’s mutant shark guy, but with bubble powers that make him better.”
“Nuh-uh!” shouted Ron.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out which one’s better during the fight, okay kids?” mediated the Coach.
“When am I gonna get to go?” demanded a girl.
“Well, how about now, Farrah?”
“That works!” Farrah led her contestant, a giant human-headed dragon, in front of the camera. “Okay, this is Guillemet. She’s better than all the other characters because she is a girl.”
“My character’s a girl too!” complained another girl.
“Yeah, but mine’s a dragon,” retorted Farrah.
“Mine isn’t a dragon,” confesssed the other.
“What have I said about interruptions, kids?” demanded the Coach. “Remember, a lot of people are going to see this, so you should be on your best behavior. T.J., you’re next.”
T.J. hopped on-stage accompanied by... something. “Hey hey hey everybody!” he yelled. “This is my contestant Axys! He’s, um, he’s a monkey lion humanoid-ish thing. He’s awesome. Look at him! Isn’t he the coolest?”
“A shark can beat a lion easy,” grumbled Ron.
“In the water, maybe,” T.J. stage-whispered in the other kid’s direction.
“Tina, you’re last,” barked the Coach impatiently. “Bring us home.”
“Okay.” Tina shoved T.J. aside and pointed towards a heavily armored woman. “This is Eriz,” she proclaimed. “And she can never die because nothing can get through her armor, not even a dragon. Or a shark. Or especially bubbles.”
“Your constestant can’t have armor!” complained Linc. “That’s cheating!”
Tina looked up at the coach nervously. “Is that cheating, Coach?”
“No, kids, armor isn’t cheating,” reassured the Coach.
“Really?” Linc clutched his skateboard angrily. “Man, I should have gotten a character with armor, then!”
“Okay, okay, settle down,” said the Coach. “That’s it for show-and-tell. Don’t you want to get this thing started?”
A general cheer of assent went out among the orphans.
“Alright, then, get all the battlers together.” The children set about tossing their semi-catatonic charges into a single area within the camera’s field of view. “Okay, contestants, are you listening? You eight have been specially chosen for this fight, so... you’re gonna want to start killing each other. Last person alive gets to go home, and might also get some money if we exceed our fundraising goal. Does that seem fair?”
None of the assembled freaks and oddities had anything to say to the contrary.
“Good! Now, for the time being, you’re gonna be fighting in this storage unit I rented out.” The Coach panned the camera around the bare walls of the room. “Technically I’m not supposed to keep anything alive in here, but hopefully by the time one of you dies I’ll have found a better venue. Until then, try not to make too much of a ruckus. And especially don’t leave the storage unit. Trust me, there’s nothing out there but more storage units, and we don’t want to be messing around with other people’s property, do we?” He chuckled nervously. “Okay, you’ll find yourselves regaining control of your bodies in a little bit. Have at it, and have fun.”
The Coach snapped a finger, and the battlers all floated to different coenrs of the storage unit. Then he and his orphans all held hands in a human chain and walked out of the storage unit, closing the door behind them. Within a few moments, the battlers came to their senses.
The storage unit was as large as the Coach could afford, and then the inside made larger than the outside by some strenuous remodeling, so that it was the size of a small warehouse. A single strip of fluorescent lighting illuminated the Coach himself, the eight orphans accompanying him, and their eight guests. The Coach sat his camcorder on a stool and took a quick note of the focus, then stood in front of it.
“Um... hello,” he said. “Welcome to the Three Hundred Thousand Dollar Fight-A-Thon. I’m the Coach. I run a home for troubled children here in town, and some of my kids and I—“
“Hi!” interjected one of the children.
“Shush, T.J.,” warned the Coach. “Your turn to talk comes later. Ahem. Some of my kids and I thought we could start up one of these battles as a fundraiser. So, for those of you watching at home... your donations are appreciated. Thank you. Now,” he said excitedly, turning back to the orphans, “Let’s give our viewers a taste of what they’re in for, okay? Time for show and tell.”
“Show and tell!” whooped the orphans.
“Ron, you’re first,” announced the Coach, picking up the camcorder.
Ron stepped in front of the camera, dragging his contestant by the ear. “My show-and-tell, um, thing today is called [color=#P1914]Ironjaw[/color],” he projected in what might be referred to as an “outdoor voice.” “Ironjaw is the coolest because he is both a shark and a human. He loves fighting. Thank you.”
The other orphans clapped as Ron departed the stage. “Thank you, Ron, that was very nice,” said the Coach. “Flo, you’re next.”
Flo, the littlest girl among all the orphans, hid out of sight of the camera and shook her head nervously.
“Awww, come on, Flo, don’t be shy,” encouraged the Coach.
Flo clamped her hands in front of her face.
The Coach walked over to the girl. “You know, I get nervous in public too, Flo.”
“You do?” whispered the girl.
“I sure do. And you know what I do to help me relax?”
Flo shook her head.
“I imagine the audince without skin.” The Coach explained. “Stripped of all lies and pretense. I imagine them as disgusting masses of meat, dying of shock and exposure.”
Flo giggled.
“You want to try it?”
Flo thought for a long while, then nodded.
“Okay, you go up there and show them who’s boss.”
Flo stepped in front of the camera holding a disgruntled-looking cat. “Hi,” she said. “This is Felus. ...He’s a kitty.” And then she ran offscreen.
“That was very good,” said the Coach, patting the girl on the head. “Gary, you wanna give it a try?”
Gary adjusted his glasses and walked in front of the camera. “This is Warden, of the Sixth Ring,” he declared in a smugly nasal drone. “He’s a demonic lord whose soul was placed inside a clock. Now he tortures bullies and criminals.”
“And nerds,” interrupted another orphan.
“Shut up, Calvin,” sneered Gary.
“Be nice, kids,” warned the Coach. “Just because we’re sending these contestants to their deaths doesn’t mean we have to be mean to each other, too. Gary, please continue.”
“I was done anyway,” sniffed Gary, storming offstage.
“Alright that’s fine, you did very well. Calvin, since you’re so chatty, why don’t you go next?”
“Why don’t I?” repeated the tallest orphan, a rough-looking kid in a baseball cap. He threw an ordinary-looking man in front of the camera. “I don’t know what this guy’s name is,” Calvin confessed proudly. “I found him in the hall.” He stuck his tongue out and ran away.
The Coach sighed. “We’ll talk later, Hogan. Linc, is your contestant ready?”
“Yep!” Linc rode in front of the camera on his signature skateboard, his contestant floating behind him submissively. “Hey, this is Thize,” he declared boldly. “He’s a mutant fish guy. Kinda like Ron’s mutant shark guy, but with bubble powers that make him better.”
“Nuh-uh!” shouted Ron.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out which one’s better during the fight, okay kids?” mediated the Coach.
“When am I gonna get to go?” demanded a girl.
“Well, how about now, Farrah?”
“That works!” Farrah led her contestant, a giant human-headed dragon, in front of the camera. “Okay, this is Guillemet. She’s better than all the other characters because she is a girl.”
“My character’s a girl too!” complained another girl.
“Yeah, but mine’s a dragon,” retorted Farrah.
“Mine isn’t a dragon,” confesssed the other.
“What have I said about interruptions, kids?” demanded the Coach. “Remember, a lot of people are going to see this, so you should be on your best behavior. T.J., you’re next.”
T.J. hopped on-stage accompanied by... something. “Hey hey hey everybody!” he yelled. “This is my contestant Axys! He’s, um, he’s a monkey lion humanoid-ish thing. He’s awesome. Look at him! Isn’t he the coolest?”
“A shark can beat a lion easy,” grumbled Ron.
“In the water, maybe,” T.J. stage-whispered in the other kid’s direction.
“Tina, you’re last,” barked the Coach impatiently. “Bring us home.”
“Okay.” Tina shoved T.J. aside and pointed towards a heavily armored woman. “This is Eriz,” she proclaimed. “And she can never die because nothing can get through her armor, not even a dragon. Or a shark. Or especially bubbles.”
“Your constestant can’t have armor!” complained Linc. “That’s cheating!”
Tina looked up at the coach nervously. “Is that cheating, Coach?”
“No, kids, armor isn’t cheating,” reassured the Coach.
“Really?” Linc clutched his skateboard angrily. “Man, I should have gotten a character with armor, then!”
“Okay, okay, settle down,” said the Coach. “That’s it for show-and-tell. Don’t you want to get this thing started?”
A general cheer of assent went out among the orphans.
“Alright, then, get all the battlers together.” The children set about tossing their semi-catatonic charges into a single area within the camera’s field of view. “Okay, contestants, are you listening? You eight have been specially chosen for this fight, so... you’re gonna want to start killing each other. Last person alive gets to go home, and might also get some money if we exceed our fundraising goal. Does that seem fair?”
None of the assembled freaks and oddities had anything to say to the contrary.
“Good! Now, for the time being, you’re gonna be fighting in this storage unit I rented out.” The Coach panned the camera around the bare walls of the room. “Technically I’m not supposed to keep anything alive in here, but hopefully by the time one of you dies I’ll have found a better venue. Until then, try not to make too much of a ruckus. And especially don’t leave the storage unit. Trust me, there’s nothing out there but more storage units, and we don’t want to be messing around with other people’s property, do we?” He chuckled nervously. “Okay, you’ll find yourselves regaining control of your bodies in a little bit. Have at it, and have fun.”
The Coach snapped a finger, and the battlers all floated to different coenrs of the storage unit. Then he and his orphans all held hands in a human chain and walked out of the storage unit, closing the door behind them. Within a few moments, the battlers came to their senses.