Alright, people, this is the introductory scene for my tournament. What kind of tournament? Well, in-story, any canon character (no OCs) can participate, but in reality, authors are the ones who enter, and authors are the ones who judge. Interested? Read on.
And for those who are worried, this is not against the site rules or Terms of Service the way I've formatted it. Which reminds me:
I do not own any characters mentioned here, except for Death by Chocolate.
A Winner is You!
Introduction
A crowd of people were milling about. Not just any people; these people were all very special. You could tell that because most of them looked special, and most of the rest of them looked like they were trying to pretend they weren't special. They were special in all kinds of relatively obvious ways; some dressed in outlandish clothing, some weren't even human, and there were some there who you could only tell were special by looking in their eyes. In this crowd, if you said, "You're not special," well, those would be fighting words. Actually, there were an awful lot of fighting words being thrown around already. Words like "punch", and "hadoken". After all, this was a fighting tournament.
They were standing near the middle of a huge, circular room. The room was about one hundred feet in diameter, with ten-foot-wide balconies on the rim. The balconies formed a giant spiral going up to the massive and awe-inspiring domed ceiling, with multiple large gates leading to the eight wings of the mall on each story. A half-dozen transparent elevators lined the inside of the balconies, providing a quicker method of travel for the rushed or lazy. Beautiful fountains, comfortable benches, and carefully chosen foliage decorated the floor of the room, along with an undecorated central stage, which the contestants clustered along one or two edges of. Some sat on the edge of the stage, talking down to the others and enjoying the perceived height difference granted by a simple four-foot ledge.
This fighting tournament had attracted some of the best fighters from across the world. It had originally been set up as a publicity stunt – the mall this tournament took place in, El Centro De El Mundo, was to be the largest mall in the world. It was finished ahead of schedule, and they hadn't yet found enough manpower to run the place. In the meantime, this tournament was to be televised primetime, and hopefully make everybody involved oodles of cash. At some point, the supernatural had gotten mixed in with the ordeal, which was the reason most of the contestants were here – the prize, in addition to fame and fortune (more specifically, winning a televised tournament and two hundred and fifty thousand U.S. dollars), was one wish.
The contestants turned as two figures strode onto the arena. The first was a fat, balding man with a large round nose. He wore a typical suit and tie, and his remaining black hair stuck up and out, forming two frizzy points on either side of his head. They looked like horns, forming a contrast to the pleasant and mildly clueless smile featured between his nose and suit collar (he didn't have much in the way of chin or neck). "Ladies and gentlemen, it's very nice to meet you. I represent the owners of this fine establishment, and I'd like to say I'm thrilled to see that each one of you attended. Now let me introduce you to our host…"
The person behind him brushed past to introduce himself. "…Death by Chocolate. I'll be hosting the tournament for you guys, and I'll be granting your wish as well." It was obvious from even a quick glance that Death by Chocolate was not, in fact, human. He was perhaps six feet tall and a bit on the skinny side, not counting the large pair of horns adorning his head, but that wasn't what was extraordinary about him. His eyes glowed yellow, and the pupil and iris were hardly discernable, so you had to look closely to see where he was looking, but that wasn't the strange thing about him either. He had razor sharp fangs that showed when he smiled, pointed ears with several earrings, hooked claws on his fingers and toes, and a pair of blades sticking out from his wrist and folded against his forearms, but none of those things were the first thing you'd notice about him. The first thing you'd notice about him was that he was made up entirely of bittersweet chocolate.
The supernatural aspect of the tournament had begun when some closet cultist in the board of directors had suggested that they summon a demon for the tournament. After all, nothing would gather fighters like the prospect of a wish being granted, and demons could do that sort of thing. Furthermore, he could host – a demon hosting the show would be attention-getting, unique, and edgy, and demons were, as a rule, charismatic enough to host a fighting tournament. Still, this sent a ripple of doubt through some of the entrants – if the wish came from a demon, could it be trusted?
"This man," DbC said with a wave to the suit, "is a greasy corporate sleazeball. His name isn't important." He turned to said sleazeball, and narrowed his eyes. "You can go now," he said through a threatening smile.
"Uh, er, right. Well, I bid you all goodbye." He hurriedly waddled off, leaving the demon on the stage looking down at the contestants casually.
"Okay, I'm going to explain the tournament to you. I won't repeat myself, so listen up," Death by Chocolate said casually. "You will each be assigned opponents, whom you will fight until you win. Victory can be achieved however you like – surrender, loss of consciousness, or ring out. In this case, the entire mall is the arena, so you pretty much need to launch somebody into orbit to constitute a ring out. Even if you lose, you can keep fighting in this tournament; the winner is whomever has the best win record at tournament's end. The fights will come one at a time, with each day containing a full round. The first round starts tomorrow morning. Any questions?" A hand was raised. "Yes, Mr. Grey?"
Mr. Grey wore a button-down shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a baseball cap. He looked normal enough, with thick eyebrows and a mild smile being his only standout features. "Yes, will you be providing food for us, or can we buy from the food court at a discount, or something?"
"Ah, good question. Mr. Grey – may I call you Gabriel? – the food courts are unmanned, but fully stocked. Feel free to take whatever you like from them, and heat it up or cook it yourself if you feel so inclined." Another hand shot up. "Yes?"
"Are we allowed to assist others in fights?" asked an older man whose white hair was in a long beard and topknot. He wore red robes with black trim, and his topknot featured a gold flame decoration.
"You can't attack somebody if it's their battle and not yours, Avatar Roku, but anything less than that – for example, throwing a weapon to an unarmed participant – is fair game."
"Will we be told anything about our opponents?" This question came from a pale young man with milk-white eyes and long black hair. He wore a black headband with a silver plate on the forehead, black-and-cream-colored clothing that looked to be traditional Japanese, and high-topped black sandals.
"Sorry, Neji-san," the edible demon said politely, "but you only see their names and pictures. Anything else must be found out on your own. Try asking these people about themselves; the tournament doesn't start until next morning, and who knows, they might be willing to share."
"Yes, Gabriel?"
"Will we be allowed to call our loved ones?"
"Sure, why not. There are pay phones next to each restroom area. Knock yourself out." Another raised hand. Yes, Stitch?"
The blue, koala-like creature began speaking in rapid Tantalog, which stumped most of the other contestants. After all, they didn't speak Tantalog. DbC, however, listened patiently. At the end, he looked offended. "Why the hell would I do that? If I'm hungry, I can just lick the roof of my mouth. Biting my finger off would be stupid. Any further questions? Yes, sir?"
The man wore a red kimono and sandals, and had matching crimson hair. Poking up through said hair were a pair of fox ears, and he had nine red tails swishing softly behind him. "Are we going to be penalized for damaging the environment?" He asked, an alarming smile playing across his face below the whisker-like marks and red eyes.
"First of all, let me just say it's an honor to meet you, Kyuubi no Kitsune." DbC gave his lowest, most dramatic bow. "There is no solid penalty system, but we ask that you fight your opponent rather than your environment. After all, we must remember who is paying for this tournament." Gabriel raised his hand. "Another question, Mr. Grey?"
"I just thought I'd ask…" this time, Gabriel had an almost hungry gleam in his eyes. "Can we kill our opponents?" He hastily added, "I thought I'd ask for everybody."
"Good question," Death by Chocolate said with a grin. "Unfortunately, you won't be allowed to kill your opponents." He planted one hand on the ground, and a stream of chocolate poured from it and flowed across the stage, where it created a solid chocolate sculpture of a man. DbC straightened up, and a knife made of chocolate formed in his left hand. "For example, there will be none of this." He threw the knife overhand, and it embedded itself in the chest of the sculpture, right in the heart. "And none of this." This time, he formed a pistol out of milk chocolate in his left hand, and pulled the trigger, firing a dark chocolate bullet into the head of the chocolate training dummy. Finally, he created a chocolate hand grenade in his left hand, and pulled the pin out. "And certainly none of THIS!" He threw the grenade in a gentle underhand arc, where it landed between the legs of the poor delicious sculpture. The grenade exploded on contact with the ground, sending a shower of chocolate across the stage. A few shards even peppered the audience. "Delicious." DbC popped the grenade pin into his mouth. "Any more questions?"
"Umm, yeah, I got one." This question came, oddly enough, from a reasonably fit-looking 13-year-old girl in designer clothes. She had brown hair with a purple streak. "Are we gonna have to fight, like, old guys…" her amber eyes shifted over to Avatar Roku, "…and blind people…" she looked at Neji, who scowled back, "…and, um, painted koalas?" She looked at Stitch now. "'Cause that hardly seems fair."
"Oh, that's a good point, Miss Block." Death by Chocolate looked around in mock concern. "I mean, hell forbid Superman…" he gestured over to the freakishly muscular, red-and-blue-tights-wearing, underpants-on-the-outside superhero in question, "…or somebody even more dangerous should have to fight an unarmed, powerless middle-schooler. That would be unfair, wouldn't it, Massie?" Massie pouted and looked away.
"Are there any other questions?" he asked. "No? Great. Okay, and remember…" he jumped into the audience. "…there could be supervillains… hello, Magnus," he gave a pat on the shoulder of an older man in red and purple armor with a cape and helmet. "…or demons… Good luck, sir," he shook Kyuubi's hand. "…or even mass murderers out here in the tournament…" he took off Gabriel's baseball cap and playfully tousled his dark brown hair. "…so be careful, everybody!" He leaned in to Gabriel and whispered in his ear, "Good acting. That performance was Oscar-worthy… Sylar." The fit-to-be-eaten-evil-spirit couldn't help but grin at the look of shock in Gabriel's face. "The tournament starts tomorrow at dawn, people! April 1st, 2008, it's all going down! Be ready to fight, or be ready to fail!"
The End of the Beginning
Eager to see what comes next? So am I. But I'm not writing it. All of you are, or at least, all of you who enter. If you want to improve your writing skills, bring glory to your favorite character, and have a chance to win a fabulous prize (yes, I am offering prizes), then come to my forum of the same name. All will be explained.
