Werewolf versus Ghost; Zombie versus Demon; Vampire versus Human & finally, Troll versus Witch.
They were a fascinating set of matches, some with more interesting results than others. But, right now, we will continue the fight, shaving down the numbers until we're left with just one champion. Who will it be? Let's head down the arena to see!
- - -
"Thank you, Matt, and welcome back to Horton-Meier Churchyard, where we've done a little bit of reconstruction, renovation and lawn care, so that we could have a clean slate for our next round of fighting," I say, walking alongside the Church to head towards the commentator's desk, where there were those same two unimportant characters alongside a gorgeous, young woman. "Yet again, I am joined by the inimitable Jayalaw, to comment on tonight's match-up. You're looking radiant as ever, my dear."
“Thank you so much,” she responded. “The first tier was quite brutal, and some victories were unexpected. How will the second tier be organized?”
“I’m glad you asked. Purely and simply, we’re matching up the winners of Round One and Two to fight in our first semi-final match, and tomorrow night, we match up the winners of Round Three and Four-”
“-Rounds Three and Four?” she repeated. “You mean the human will be facing the witch? That’s going to be a bit messy. They technically are both human and have suffered a few injuries already.”
“Don’t worry, they know what they signed up for. But, it does mean that tonight we’ll be seeing our first champions face off, the Werewolf and the Demon. They too have their fair share of bruises, but they’re ready to go at it. Do you have any thoughts on tonight’s pairing?”
“As for tonight’s pairing, my money’s on the demon Carver because she is crafty. She’ll also have more years of experience under her belt.”
“Ah, true. y’know most of them - supernaturally or otherwise - look around the same age, it’s easy to forget that the vampire is . . . well, was over a hundred.”
“But undercut by arrogance.”
“Indeed. But, now that you mention it, I think that too could be a point in Gareth’s favour tonight. More often than not, demons can be shown to possess that self-satisfied hubris. Even in her fight against the zombie, her self-confidence got her badly scarred. If she hasn’t learned from that mistake, then the Werewolf’s superior strength could be the upperhand that decides this match. But I have to admit, I’m with you on this one, demon all the way. What can I say, fire plus fur? Equals toast. Oh, and here come our contestants now!”
The gates on the left side, next to the trees, were opened by two stagehands just in time for a large truck to reverse into the yard. The stagehands opened up the doors and Gareth jumped out, his wrists tied up with heavy chains that lead back into the truck. He was wearing ripped jeans, shredded from his earlier fight, and a singlet.
“Come on, let’s go!” he said, hopping up and down impatiently.
“In this corner, Gareth Donahue. He’s proves his might against a ghastly wight, but will the wolf-man win the fight? Give it up for the Werewolf!”
The commentators all clapped as three stagehands walked into the arena with their ritual supplies. They drew the bloody symbol, lit the candles and recited the incantation, just as they had before. The chanter threw up his hands as the candles exploded in a firey tornado that filled the pentagram with flame, then extinguished to reveal Carver, the red-skinned, yellow-eyed demon. On her right arm, her hand was missing, but in its place she had been given a metal hook.
“And facing up against him in this corner, the demon named ‘Carver’. She easily disposed of her decomposed woes, but suppose, will this devil overcome her latest foe? Give it up for the Demon!”
I stand up and announce. “It’s Fido versus Fiend, who will win? Let’s get ready to RUMBLE! Three . . . two . . . one, FIGHT!”
Gareth and Carver together made towards the middle of the arena. Garth walked with a confident swagger, but the demon was more careful as she made her way towards her opponent. After a moment, Gareth stopped.
"Wait a minute . . ." he said, and he scanned the ground before picking up a small rock. He aimed and pegged the rock. Carver easily deflected it by swiping at it with her hook hand, making a sharp, metallic ringing.
"Have you already resorted to throwing stones?" asked Carver.
"No, love," said Gareth, flexing his muscles and straining his veins. "I just wanted to know you were solid this time . . ."
Gareth's singlet ripped to expose his bandaged ribs underneath, then fur and muscles grew and tore through the gauze. Bones cracked and snapped into place as Gareth became the Werewolf, and growled, hungrily, as it stared down the demon. Then, the werewolf ran forward on its hind legs.
The werewolf stood tall to swipe its claw. As it did, Carver swiftly kicked him in the ribs. The werewolf winced, but was otherwise unaffected. He swiped his claw and sent the demon flying. She hit the front of the church, and collapsed onto the steps like a ragdoll. But, the demon was more durable than she looked. She climbed to her feet and crouched in an aggressive stance with claws held out in front of her, eyes glowing orange. The werewolf began to advance, but fire burst forth from the demon's hands, Catching the Werewolf's stomach with the flame, the creature yelped and jumped back, cradling the singed hair with a paw. The demon ran forward and leapt over the werewolf's head, twisting in the air. She landed by gouging her hook into the werewolf's shoulderblade. The werewolf twisted to try to grab at her, but couldn't reach its arms around its back. Instead, the werewolf tucked and rolled, slamming its back into the dirt. Then the werewolf quickly rolled and twisted to stand up, but as it did so Carver's hook-hand shredded through the muscle of his back, gouging an inch-deep cut down to his waist.
All of the werewolf's hair stood on end as it yelped in pain.
"You stupid animal," said Carver, looking a little bruised as she got to her feet. "You did that to yourself!"
Mouth slavering and ears flat against its head, the werewolf snarled viciously.
Carver just gritted her teeth and threw another ball of fire at the werewolf. This time, the werewolf jumped high over her head. It landed on the roof of the church and hid from the fire.
"Pathetic, snivelling little dog-man," said Carver, as she backed away from the church until she could see the werewolf. It was standing on the roof, holding the cross on top to steady itself as it patted at the still-sizzling embers of its fur. "Escape is not available to us, beast. Fight, or die."
The werewolf was breathing heavily, blood dripping down its arm. It pumped up its chest, arched its head back and howled at the sky. Then, looking more confident, it took a running jump and leapt off the roof towards the demon, fangs bared, headfirst.
As the werewolf hit the demon, sinking its teeth into her, Carver swung her right arm upwards and the two tumbled heavily along the ground. When they stopped, the werewolf was on top of the demon, but he had fallen limp. The furry beast lifted off the ground, but not under his own power. The demon was lifting him up by his head as she got to her feet. Standing up, it became clear that her right arm, with the prosthetic hook, had been shoved into the werewolf's mouth. And, judging by both the angle, and the werewolf's limp body, the hook had penetrated his brain. As the demon glared, disgusted, at the corpse attached to her hook, the werewolf began to shrink. Deflating, like a slowly shrinking balloon, or an uncontracting muscle, the werewolf shrank back down into the natural form of the human it truly was.
As the wolf once more became the man, Gareth, Carver grabbed his jaw with her left hand, dislodged her hook from his skull and dropped the body, lifelessly, to the ground.
A bell sounded and the commentators all cheered.
"We have a winner!" I cry, running forward. "That was an outstanding clash, my dear. A real . . . oh, wow." I stop, wiping my eyes for a second as I catch the scent of burning hair. "That is what I call a pungent pong, ugh . . . well, uh, Carver, how are you doing this evening?"
"I think this new hook was quite useful."
"Yeah, they're pretty handy, aren't they?" I asked.
The demon just glared at me for the pun.
"Okay . . . well, congratulations! I think the werewolf made a fatal mistake there, by using just his size and muscles, he forgot that he had the mind of a beast. I think that what turned the tides of this match was relying on animal instinct rather than tactics."
"Of course," said the demon.
". . . yeah. Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our first Finalist, the Demon!" The stagehands clap as the demon nods, then walks away.
"But, that was just the first semi-final, tomorrow, come back for our penultimate match, where we will see which of our remaining champions will survive for the final round. Thank you, you've been watching Monster Bash, 2015!"