Challenge #2, the vote

Well gladiators, it looks like the Mutants on the Bounty may be playing the game, but the Malians are playing for keeps.

Or something like that.

Who thought he had a hunger for excitement and a thirst for adventure but it turns out it was just for a Reuben sandwich and a tall glass of lemonade?

Come to think of it, a Rueben sandwich and a glass of lemonade does sound pretty good right now.

Gyrobo, you are not the Last Gladiator Standing, goodbye.

Guess that voting for yourself gambit didn’t pay off too well, did it?

Stay tuned for the next challenge.

Last Gladiator Standing III was brought to you in part by Green Jedi.




Green Jedi! Mmm, that's good corn!

The Milkman Cometh

“Don’t lie to me, old man! I’ve read the files, I know everything Kobold does.”

The spasmodic wall scones betrayed his discomfort. “Posh! I have no time for your trivialities. Leave me be, man!”

There was definitely something here.

“You call this trivial?” I grabbed his arm, turning it so we could both see the skillet-shaped mark on his hand. “Just because you couldn’t handle the skillet, don’t you dare presume — ”

“Nobody should have that kind of power.”

So... Kobold wasn’t just an oxygen-stealing troglodyte after all. Planting spies among the galaxy’s culinary upper crust had been a logistical nightmare, but now I had it: the skillet was here, all along.

“Normally I would agree with you, but I need that skillet right now like you can’t believe.”

“Could you just order?! My children are in the car!” the woman behind me hollered. A seventy-year-old man tapped his foot behind her, and behind him a teenager gave me the evil eye while listening to an iPod.

“I’m still making up my mind,” I lied, and turned my attention back to the reptilian servitor. Perhaps I could use the civil suit I filed against him earlier this week as leverage to get that skillet...?

“What’s it gonna take for you to never set foot in this hallowed place again?”

I smirked. “More than the skillet, mi amigo. But consider it a down payment.” I pulled him close. “Do you know why I want it? Who I’m up against?”

“Can I have a Hackburger with flies, two larval meals, and seventy orders of munga fruit pies?”

It wasn’t so much that the woman had pushed ahead of me, breaking the unspoken etiquette of line travel, but that the patrons behind her had backed her up by blocking me! Acting as if with a group mind, they had broken my tenuous grasp over the cash register. The last time I’d been... oh no.

“Get down, old man!”

Whipping out my Sonic Discomfort Beam, I set it to wide dispersal and fired at the line until each one of them was on the ground, clutching their stomachs. Then I used the beam to shatter some expensive-looking glasses, just to see if it could.

“Wh-wh...?!”

“Stop-a the jibber-jabberin’! They weren’t people at all, you trusting fool! They were carrots... disguised flaming carrot henchmen, sent at the behest of my newest arch-foe, the head chef of Galactor’s ship the Executive...” I holstered the ray-gun and looked into the camera while a timpani beat dramatically. “Reid Fleming. Canada’s toughest milkman.”

He grooved on that for quite a-while.

“How’d he get to be a head chef? Fleming always despised authority.”

“Ah, now you see my dilemma, old spice. If he’s changed tactics, how has his cooking changed? An army crawls on its stomach. With Reid it’s probably waddling on udders; I need that skillet.”

“Fine!” He wailed, retrieving a shimmering, ruby-encrypted device from behind his right ear. Magic. “Take the accursed skillet! Take it all the way to outer space. Let me finally be rid of it!”

As my fingers caressed its sleek lid, I felt a surge of power behind my eyes (although that may have been one of my many medical maladies). Reid Fleming, consider your rump roasted!

***

“This is a Daemon Hurts original piece... yes, cost me ten million.”

Question: Dollars, pounds, or euros?

I stared blankly. “Pounds of what? Flour? Bread is made from flour.”

The tape recorder clicked off, indicating an epic win. My chef mentality was fully in place. “Excellent. Now: full power to the atomic space catapult!”

Atomic is really a misnomer, as the catapult works on a subatomic level to fire all parts of a large object through the vastness of space with such speed and precision that it’s considered by the Peruvians to be a form of teleportation.

But this wasn’t Peruvia, and I wouldn’t need to move all that far... just far enough to get past the deep skyblue armoring. I rotated the teleprompter’s rotating revolver cuff at the Executive’s expected position. “Targeting... sending data... expectorating...”

Snnzzzzzzzzzzzzzttttt!

The odds are one in thirty thousand that someone traveling via atomic catapult will reintegrate with a large chunk of them missing. One in thirty million that something will go horribly wrong and you’ll end up an inside-out blob of pain.

The odds against anything going wrong were just... impossible.

Which is why I didn’t stop to think twice when I rematerialized completely without incident and went about my business, feeling great.

“I’m hungry for adventure!”

Popping a chef hat over my normal hat, which was actually a dust cover, I roamed the silver hallways looking for a quadlift to the lower sectors, where the kitchen had been in the online floor plan. The fools... holding a virtual tour of a battleship to spur recruitment? What intergalactic empire does that?

Minutes later I was outside the galley, peering in through the porthole. I struggled for a whiff of delicious army chili, fresh rolls, Salisbury steak... but all I could smell was-

“Got milk?”

A burly hand grabbed my shoulder and threw me through the door into the kitchen. Six or so flaming carrot-headed sub-chefs scattered as my head connected with the linoleum.

“Reid Fleming, I presume?”

“That’s me,” he spat, wiping a milk mustache from his stubble. “Want to fight about it? What’re you doing here anyway, impersonating a chef? That’s a crime!”

“You’re one to talk. You’re also a mega long way from Canada, milkman.”

“I get... around!” He picked me up by my war-ankles, flipping me upright. “Now who are ya and what d’ya want?”

“I’m here to challenge you to a cook-off! If I win, you got back Canada, fighting villains with milk bottles or whatever it is you do.”

“And if I win?”

“Oh, you won’t.”

The hooting among the staff was audible. “Bobby! Get me my pasteurizing hood. What’re we making here?”

I inhaled quickly. “The most delicate of dishes: Soufflé. To bake, we must have complete silence. The slightest atomic explosion might cause an epic fail.”

Fleming barked into the chefside commbox, “Engineering! Shut it down! SHUT IT DOWN! Shut it all down, we need silence up here! Kill the weapons! Kill the propulsion! Kill the dead man’s switch! SILENCE! There,” he hung up the receiver, “Bobby! set the timer for thirty minutes! Let’s see what you can do, smart guy.”

By the country kitchen style counter next to the meatlocker I saw a barrel of potatoes. “Salvation!”

While Reid was busying himself with whatever really goes into soufflés, I dumped the whole sack of potatoes into the small pan while a carrot henchman waddled up beside me. “Your plan is in motion, sir.”

“Excellent, Kobold. When should the effects become-”

“Ach!” Fleming dropped like a penny from a skyscraper. “What’s-s-s-s hap-p-p-p-p-pening?!”

Carrots gathered around us, falling in turn as the milk curdled in their bellies. “I’m afraid your milk’s gone bad, mister Fleming. One might say... evil?”

“How?” He sprawled. “My homogenization is top notch! You... couldn’t...”

Agent Kobold took the hint and wiped the orange makeup from his face. “A parsnip! There was a... you had a parsnip in my kitchen! But... the skillet!”

“The old man was in your pocket the whole time. You knew I would challenge you to a cook-off, and you knew I’d cheat to do it. That’s why this whole chamber is lined with anti-magic structs, isn’t it?” I clanged a ladle on the hollow wall. “You gave him that skillet on Omicron 4 and retconned the travel logs. Then...” I flipped through Kobold’s notebook. “You came back here and mixed hallucinogenic chemicals into the general milk supply for Galactor’s soldiers.”

“That’s... right... you idiot!” He gasped. “I was undercover! Did... didn’t you look into why I was here?!”

“I heard something about a covert milkman, but as Hans Cuttler (five-time winner of the Pierre LePike Remedial Spike) says, ‘until you can see your own buttocks, all you have is a pile of dung and a theory.’ Hans Cuttler said that, but with more salty language. Salty like a pretzel.”

Fleming made some more gurgling sounds before convulsing into unconsciousness. Evil milk doesn’t agree with pretzels, it seems. Regardless, with the Executive’s head chef out of commission and the kitchen staff beside him coughing up their stalks, there was no way Galactor’s semi-sentient soldiers could feed themselves.

“Parsnip Kobold! Raise the polka-dotted flag of victory!”

Ch2: Mutants on the Bounty....er Executive

I like Xavier. I especially like his haircut. With his advanced telepathic abilities, he was able to create a high-quality blueprint of the Executive so we at least had a roadmap of the territory we were going into.



However, for a telepath, he’s not the most observant person I’ve met. I mean, let’s take Erefia: she hates me. I can understand why: she is a Jedi and I am a Sith – it’s just the way of things. I once tried to turn her to the dark side, and would have succeeded were it not for the fact that she wanted to return to the Jedi order, confused as she was at the time.

But all that aside, we definitely have some history. During our team briefing, when the plans were discussed and explained, Erifia glared at me the whole time. And being the Sith that I am, I returned the favor in kind.

At the end of the briefing, however, Xavier decided that the teams were going to be divided by gender: girls, boys, and genocidal robots. Girls have the bridge, boys have the engine room, and the robots….well, Gyrobo could do whatever the hell he wanted.

Erifia looked about as happy about the arrangement as I did: she wasn’t. But in the name of the gladiatorial competition, we bit our tongues and moved forward.

Erifia said she didn’t have enough fuel in her ship to take it and said we had to take mine – and she didn’t even offer to pay for some of the gas. Just like Jedi: they are all just so cheap – the Temple doesn’t pay squat.

However, as we approached the Executive, it was almost as if they were expecting us: one of the landing bays was left open and unprotected. It was way too easy.

It wasn’t until we left the docking area did we find out the ship was under an advanced alert. Someone had told them we were coming and I was sure it was those Malfians.

We finally encountered a large group of soldiers on our way to the bridge. Our main defense was to deflect their blaster fire back at them with a more direct approach for those that got within saber range.

In our spare moments, we took pot shots at one another: it was a lot of fun. I think Erifia took it a little too seriously because she force shoved a group of soldiers in my direction after I sucker punched her in the middle of what she referred to as a “graceful maneuver.” Those Jedi: it’s always form over function with them.

Getting to the bridge was actually a great deal of fun – a lot of work, but I felt a sense of accomplishment when we got there.

The person at the helm was an interesting looking specimen: I’d seen characters like him at pod races in the Hutt box seats. After discovering neither of us had green eyes, he became incensed and summoned these warriors that reminded me a lot of Jedi, except they didn’t have light sabers, just some metal swords that were of no use. They were dispatched with a little force lighting, knocking them all back.

”You could learn to do that also if you would return to the dark side,” I told Erifia, then smiled wide. “Our benefits are even better now: we have cookies.”

A few of the warriors started waking up again and Erifia took up a defensive pose, “No, I’m good – literally – and I’m going to stay here.” She did a roundhouse kick on the first warrior that approached her, knocking him cold. A second was behind Erifia and I threw my saber at him: Erifia ducked just in time for me to take him out. It’s a shame she declined my offer, I think we work well together.

The strange-looking man at the helm appeared to have his own Force powers, as I saw a burst of light come from his mouth aimed at Erifia. She nimbly jumped out of the way and up to a light protruding from the ceiling. When the man fired light at her again, she dropped, landing on him and then began beating the living daylights out of him until he lay battered and unconscious. It’s a crying shame, indeed, she declined becoming my apprentice.

I heaved a sigh and moved to the empty helm console. “You know,” I began as I used the console to maneuver the ship into position, “If we took out the Invisible Gland, we could make this gladiatorial competition a lot easier.”

She stood up once again and put her hands on her hips. “You know, Nepharia, that’s the first thing you’ve said all night that I actually agree with.” We both smiled.

Moving to the weapons console, I heard something. Nepharia….

I stopped a moment and looked at Erifia. She looked at me and asked “What are you waiting for?”

Nepharia, I sense you are planning on doing something foolish. It was Xavier.

Well aren’t you just the sensitive little telepath, I thought back. I thought about eliminating the competition, if you must know.

While I admit that getting rid of the Malfians would rid the blogging universe of a certain amount of insanity, it may disqualify you as a gladiator, he thought.

Do you honestly think that a little thing like being disqualified as a gladiator would stop me from wonton killing? I asked.

Well….no, but I thought I’d give it a try….he responded. How about we discuss this later after we get back to the gladiators’ dorm?

How about we go back to the gladiators’ dorm and play Master and Apprentice? I suggested.

Long pause.

I’m game, so long as you don’t destroy the other ship, he finally thought.

Nice try, I thought before reaching out and pressing the launch button on the weapons console. Except nothing happened. I ran to the communications console and hailed the weapons section, but it came up on caller ID as “Galley”.

“This is Nepharia, Erefia and I are on the bridge – we need weapons control now!”

“Why?” I heard a strangely familiar voice answer

”Because we’re coming under attack,” I answered. “Who is this?”

”It’s Gyrobo,” he answered indignantly. “I didn’t hear any attacks,” he said.

”Dammit, Gyrobo, give me weapons control now!” I yelled into the comm, grabbing the sides of the terminal.

”I can’t,” he answered calmly; “I took them offline.”

”You what!?” I screamed, squeezing the terminal so hard a piece of it broke off in my hand. “Why on earth would you do that?” I asked, tossing the broken piece to the deck.

”Why, I’m baking a soufflé and I didn’t want it to fall,” he answered as if it made perfect sense.

I don’t remember destroying the communications panel, just the smell of freshly burnt electronics.

Xavier, I hope you enjoy playing an apprentice, I thought as I left the bridge

Team 1 - Operation Diversion pt 2 Ciera's POV

I have to admit - .creating the holosuit for HotStuff was fun...He just looked so darn cute! Even Kon thought so.

Flying my ship towards the enemy was the easy part. After we were boarded and HotStuff went back to keep them busy with his charms I kept myself busy creating a small swarm of sensor ghosts for the enemy ship. And for good measure, I jammed their comm lines, I even managed to hack in far enough to mess up their inship communications.

At the same time I keep trying to coach HS along... he doesn't make a very good girl. Even I'm not buying his act, his high pitched girly voice still sounds guy-ish. He's trying though. From the chatter I hear in my ear, he's not a very good dancer if he can't lead.

They're trying to hack my ship, having traced the source of the intererence...I hate it when that happens. HS said something I heard with only one ear. "Keep them busy HS!"

A large arm comes around in front of me and puts me in a headlock just as Hotstuff asks me if I want to trade places with him ---- uhm...YES!

I struggle against my captor, unable to see anything beyong meaty hands and the clock ticking on the control board. Koma and West are waiting for me to beam them over to the other ship so that they can take out the shields. I kick backwards and bite down on my captors arm. He cries out...I hear a small blast and the guy goes down. I turn to see my sidekick Kirk standing there grinning at me.

"I might not be able to help you out with the challenge," he said. "But no ones gonna hurt my girl."

Awww...

Just then...my timer goes off...and so does the fire alarms and suppression system. Foam is showering down on me.

"What the heck? Who triggered the fire suupression system?"

I hurry to my control panel, to see that the arlarm was activated in the back...where Koma and West had hidden in the tiny transporter room.

"Sorry, Ciera...I tripped and hit the button on the wall," answered one of them.

"Never mind!" With one hand I work at shutting them off and with the other, I beam the two of them over.

"Ciera!" said HS hurrying into the cockpit. "We got a problem, one guy got off an alert.. Please tell me you are done.."

"Koma and West are over there...I just have to shut these alarms down and keep them busy..." My tiny ship rocks as they blast us with some sort of laser. "Great. Kirk, you and HS head back to the gun turrets...I'll fly evasive manuevers until the ship quits firing."

The two head off to the back.

As I continue working and I hear my ships guns firing back, I couldn't help but think how hilarious HS looked with half the holo suit damaged and blinking on and off!

Team 1.. Operation: Diversion.

So the meeting was called... Bennet came in with a smile, "As the leader of this group I want to say the best way we can win is by selling as much paper products as possible... What a great opportunity we have with this Overlord's officers... If they don't buy.... shoot them in the back as so.."

He points his gun st West who had his back to us..

Koma clears his throat, "You can't shoot contestants remember..." He then walks to the center of the room, kind of reminds me of my football coach, " I have a plan.. We will divide up into 3 teams.. Team 1. A diversion party- who will distract the ship while the advance party sneak on the ship, Team 2.. An advance party - who will sneak onto the ship and take out the shields and finally Team 3 The cavalry party - they will be the major force who bring the pain after the ships shields have been deactivated...."

Before Koma could finish Bennet jumps in, "Ciera! You are on Team 1.. I mean with a body like that she is sure to divert a lot of attention.."

I look at Miss Ciera and she doesn't look happy, finally she speaks after obviously carefully choosing her words, "I am well trained by Starfleet including holographic programming and other related technology! I can complete the task of diversion," she nods at Koma and then turns to Bennet, "but not because of my sex or appearance... "

As if what she said went in one ear and right out the other Bennet announces, "Fine fine.. For your protection on this assignment to play the damsel in distress, the other girl will go. HS put on your best dress. You are on Team 1!"

"WHAT!!!" I exclaimed, did this guy really still think I was girl! "Hey I am a guy!" He thought I was a girl when he picked me for this team and still he thinks I am a girl...

Koma shaking his head walked over to Ciera and myself, "The ship in distress is a good idea but... Ciera, Since your Starfleet, you are head honcho for team 1, make your plans and as soon as Team 2 gets your signal they will move.."

She nodded like a good officer and grabbed my arm pulling me out of the room... I of course was still arguing with Bennet.

Moments later...

I looked at Ciera as we made way for the transport Vessel and asked, "Please tell me again ... Why am I dressed like this?"

"Look here buckwheat - I've got the training, I know how to jam sensors, divert systems and how to use transporter beams which we will need to get team 2 on to that ship.. do you?" She looked at me sternly, one of her eyebrows raising...

I stuttered...

"I didn't think so... Now to do this I have to be in close range.. It is unlikely that ship would stop to help a ship in distress, more likely they would blow us up.." She was beginning to sound like a Vulcan... "but men in space get lonely..."

She then looked at me and flashed an evil grin, "besides you look adorable.. especially after I activated the Holo-body.."

She did a double take at me, looking in shock, "HS! stop .. stop groping yourself.."

I couldn't help it, I mean they felt .. real, "They feel real.. what is this some kind of changeling net?"

It was something I heard Galen mention before...

She laughed, "It's a holographic body that fits snuggly over yours... Now come on.."

As we were working our way to the transport Vessel I heard whistling and then someone grabbed my butt.. Oh no, NOT Kon...

I pulled away and saw Ciera about falling on the flight deck laughing... I yell, "Back OFF KON!"

He withdrew... "HS is that... oh man I do not want to know.."

He made a quick exit.. I looked at Ciera, "Thanks now I will never live this down.."
"Don't worry," she replied, still laughing. "Ni ether will he!!"

We boarded the Vessel and went up to where we needed to be... Close enough for Ciera to work her wonders...

She looked at me, "Now you hail them and when we are boarded you keep those men busy back there..." She pinted to the cargo hold, " HS don't let them come up here!"
Her hands sure did move quickly over her console, as if she'd done this a time or two before.
I saluted and then hailed the ship... "This.."

She shut the the speaker off and nudged me, "too masculine.. change your voice... like if someone kicked you... in the little boys you know.."

In a higher voice I tried again, "This is ... Kelly Ann.. We are .. um in trouble and need help.."

I couldn't believe it was working but it was.. We were being boarded... Now I had to entertain these cretins in the back while Ciera did her part...
Her hands sure did move quickly over her console, as if she'd done this a time or two before. It was really fun working with her.. Though I haven't had time to post all her jokes and teasing... I told her good luck and she chuckled, "To you too.."

I went to the back of the transport Vessel, to greet our company...

6 large males entered in their Uniforms..


"Well well well, what do we have here?" One said grabbing my arm...

In that high pitch voice I yelled as I pushed him away, "Not that kind of girl.."

Ciera put something in my ear so I could hear her and left the comm on so she could hear me...

I tried playing tea party.. But they wanted me to dance...

"Dance HS! I need more time!" I heard Ciera...

I squeaked, "NO no no.... I can't do that.. " I say to Ciera...

"Keep them busy HS!" she barked...

"Would you like to trade places with me?" I whispered over my shoulder just as one man slapped my butt...

"HEY!" As I yelled in my normal voice they looked at me strange. I had to change my voice , "I mean.. Hey.. don't do that.:"

"We can do anything we want girly...You know who we serve?" One stated...

"No..." Was what I said but actually i do lump head... was what I was thinking

"We serve Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord !" they boasted...
"really?" I said with sarcasm

"And we are going to destroy Hacknor!" they cheered...

"Not if we can help it.." I whispered under my voice

"What was that Tramp!" One guy, the biggest one leered at me

"nothing" I tried giggling like my cousin Vella...

The biggest one licked his lips and responded, "but first girly we are going to celebrate our Victory with you!"

Gross..

"Ciera... please hurry.. things are getting ugly.." I called out... but all I hear is static in reply.

They were coming in closer...

Okay screw this .. My father raised me to fight.. As the biggest one came close I kneed him hard sending him down and then I tossed a right hook blood splattered across the bulk head...

I kicked another through some cargo boxes... Two grabbed me and I tossed them into each other and with a few more punches and a cleverly placed tea pot over the head they were out... One of the last two hit his communicator....

I blew a breath of fire at him and his buddy... Suddenly alarms began blaring and foam and lightening bolts began raining from the ceiling..

"WHAT the HELL!" I heard Ciera say, "Who triggered the fire suppression systems.."

I ran to her, "We got a problem, one guy got off an alert.. Please tell me you are done.."

TBC with Ciera's post..

Challenge #2

The challenge has been cast. The gauntlet thrown down. Many have been called, few have answered. On the planet Hacknor... On Fire Island D, brave contestants will compete. Who will falter? Who will thrive? Who will be

Bad news everybody.

Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord sent two of his warships to attack Hacknor. Normally we are well defended but the Colonial Marine detachment stationed here is currently on Desert Island 4 conducting arctic survival training and most of the gladiators who work for the Intergalactic Gladiator Entertainment (formerly the Intergalactic Gladiator Federation) are gone for the three day weekend.

So it’s up to you to stop them.

Malfians, you will attack the Invisible Gland, get yourselves onboard, disable the engine room and take control of the bridge.

Mutants on the Bounty, you need to do the same on the Executive.

Work together to accomplish your tasks, you can use any of the space craft and dropships made available to us by Murray’s Discount Dropship Emporium. Be careful, who knows what sort of dangers will face you on these ships.

Last Gladiator Standing III was brought to you in part by

Murray’s Discount Dropship Emporium.



Get your dropship at Murray’s.