[Quarter Finals] Whirda & Yuuka vs Yu Kanda & Mickey Mouse

[Karl Jak]

In the ultimate swerve, Karl had actually loaded the arena full of people.  While the original vibe had been to create a joking reference to some indy, firehouse-style nonsense, a little ticket had changed the whole thing.  Packed with somewhere above fifteen-thousand people, the arena seethed with anticipation—a sea of humanity dotted with cardboard signs, foam effigies of their heroes, and various beer and Pepsi vendors.

The squared circle would have been empty, save for the two men who stood at its center.  One of them, a man in black trousers and a zebra-striped shirt, shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  His shoes had a nice shine to them, and his belt buckle was likewise polished to the nines.  He’d been told to ‘get ready for the show of your life’, and when he had the sitdown meeting with Karl, the older man knew why.

“You excited, Earl?”  The man next to the referee inquired.  “Karl really opted to pull out all the stops for this one.  I figured I’d be singing in the lounge tonight… you know the one, over near Island 62?”

Earl shook his head.  “Don’t know that one, Tony.”  He didn’t bother to invest much in the world beyond his own personal realm.  His life here was comfortable, so he had no reason to do the thing younger people did where they’d transfer from job to job in the company.

“Your loss, Earl,” the man smirked as he tapped the mic in his left hand.  The feed was still off, but the audience knew what was coming—the tension in the air was palpable.  

Outside the ring, the two announcer’s tables were likewise engaged in their preshow hype.

“Well, JR,” a sleazy-looking man in a king’s crown remarked.  “You excited for this or what?”

The second older man, a fine gentleman in a cowboy hat, nodded his head without averting his gaze from the entrance ramp.  “You know it, King.  This is going to be one hell of a slobberknocker.”

The other announcer snickered.  “Save the catchphrases for when the broadcast is live, Jim.”

“Oh shove it up your ass,” JR retorted playfully as the lights suddenly faded in the arena.  A green light on the monitor told both men that it was go-time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1C-mdFXKyBU

The music that followed the opening decree of the theme song blared across the arena.  Men, women, and all sorts of other things erupted out of their seats in a thunderous applause as the titan among men emerged from gorilla position.  Strutting out onto the platform, the Rock lifted his chin and slid into his pose.  He breathed deeply as a little tear formed in the corner of his left eye.

His sunglasses, knowing their role, obscured any such emotional fragility as Dwayne strutted away to give his tag-team the space they needed to emerge.

That they did—Mickey Mouse and Yu Kanda—their eyes both showcasing a blend of surprise and awe as polaroids from the nearby audience members threatened to rob them of their site.

“Sunglasses, jabronis!”  The Rock muttered.

Both primes were dressed in unbuttoned, black leather vests that were adorned with the image of the Brahma Bull.  They sported matching elbow pads and trunks.  From the waist down, they wore black knee pads and boots.  As they fixed their sunglasses, the pair gazed at one another for a moment before nodding their heads and bumping their fists in unison.  The trio descended the ramp—the Rock and Yu Kanda staring somberly ahead as Mickey waved to the crowd and occasionally jumped up to hug a young boy or girl.

From the ring, Tony lifted the mic to his lips.  “The following match is scheduled for one fall.”

“ONE FALL!” The audience roared in anticipation.

“Introducing first… accompanied to the ring by the Rock—Mickey ‘the Pebble’ Mouse and Yu ‘the Slag’ Kanda!”

The crowd roared as the trio entered the ring.  The Rock made a beeline for one of the turnbuckles, which he mounted as he chucked his fist up in his signature pose.

Yu stood adjacent to the ring announcer as Mickey ascended another turnbuckle and continued to wave to the crowd.

Back in the gorilla position, another trio stood in silence, waiting for their moment.

“This feels demeaning,” Whirda mumbled as she glanced down at the outfit.  “Why is this a two-piece?  You don’t have a two-piece,” she added as she glared at Yuuka.  The older woman was indeed dressed in a blue and red singlet which allowed her to maintain a modicum of modesty despite the Pepsi-colored elbow gloves and Pepsi-colored knee-high boots.

“Just be happy they didn’t put us in heels,” Yuuka replied as she reached down and adjusted the brace that adorned her left ankle.  She didn’t know why she and Whirda needed them, but their corporate sponsor insisted they match their manager, much like their opponents.  They also had black vests that had angry, smoking skulls on their backs (skulls that were painted the colors of the Pepsi logo, of course).

Their manager—an angry-looking son of a bitch with a bald head—adjusted his vest and glanced over his shoulder at the pair of women.

“Stop flappin your gums,” he barked as a pair of secondaries rushed out toward the exit with a sheet of glass.  “Before I open up a can of whoopass on you both.”

“Will that be as refreshing as a cold can of Pepsi?”  Yuuka asked, eliciting a sneer from their manager.  He even pointed a finger at her.

“I don’t hate you.”  He muttered as he turned back to the class.

With a deep breath, the bald son of a bitch stepped right through the glass.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrJLsNo9sCU

The Rock twitched as their opponent’s theme song played.  The crowd erupted in a second wave of jubilation as the Great One craned his neck and watched that bald-headed rattlesnake bastard come stomping out onto the platform.  His eyes immediately found the Rock, and a knowing grin spread across his sneering visage.

“And their opponents!”  Tony the Announcer boomed as Whirda and Yuuka emerged behind their manager, taking some time to make sure they didn’t stomp on any of the glass shards that now dotted the area.  “Accompanied to the ring by their manager, Stone Cold Steve Austin,” Tony paused for effect (as all good announcers do) while the ladies took up positions to the left and right of the beady-eyed Texan.  “Whirda and Yuuka, the ‘Ice Cold’ Pepsi Sisters!”

The Rock descended the turnbuckle and put himself in front of his protégés as Stone Cold rolled into the ring.  The Rattlesnake got right up in his old rivals face.

“Gonna stomp another damn mudhole in that soft, Hollywood belly of yers,” Stone Cold spat before shouldering passed the Rock and ascending the turnbuckle.  The Texan hoisted a hand in the air, and if waiting for that queue, a can soared expertly into his waiting fingers.  Stone Cold instinctively cracked it open but paused suddenly when he saw the label of the can.

“Pepsi?”  The man’s beady eyes twitched as he remembered the arrangement he had signed.   Stone Cold gonna whoop some asses after this is all said and done… Reaching out his other hand, the man snatched and opened up a second can.  With his trademark scowl, he smashed them together over his head and chugged down the caramel-colored syrup slop.  Once done, he discarded the cans and waved for another pair.  

"Who is that guy, Rock?" Mickey whispered, noticing Dwayne's tensed posture.

The movie star glanced back at his buddy and frowned.  "You have a nemesis, little pal?  Someone who always seemed to get the best of you?  Who always got under your skin?  Who always took your title?"

Mickey twisted his mouth up as he mulled over his long history.  "I had a job on the steamboat... the captain was not a nice fella.  Always ordering me around and being a jerk.  I foiled a bunch of his plots though."

"The good guys always get it in the end," the Rock muttered as he remembered his final triumph over the beer-swilling snake.  "But this is the Omniverse...  I should have known that sleeping dogs won't lie forever.  Things like this make for good television."  

Whirda and Yuuka stood next to one another on the right side of Tony and Earl, who were flanked on their left side by the other trio.  Stone Cold joined the two women a moment later and joined them in a stare-off with their foes as the referee stepped forward.

“Standard rules,” he remarked.  “No weapons.  No silly business…” he glanced at each of the managers.  “No interference.  Otherwise, you’ll be DQ.  Am I clear?”

“Yes.” The six primes remarked in unison.

“Good,” Earl remarked as Tony exited the ring.  Stepping through the prime and toward the far side of the ring, the referee gave a thumbs up to the timekeeper.  “Ring the bell.”

“Hey, Rock,” Stone Cold remarked as the ref walked away.

“What?”  The Rock remarked.

“Austin 3:16 says your team sucks,” to accentuate his point, the Texan lifted both of his middle fingers.

The Rock puffed his chest and opened his mouth, but before he could get a word in, a boot smacked his gut and doubled him over.  Stone Cold spun and hooked the Rock’s head over his shoulder, and with a grin, the Rattlesnake dropped to the ring.  With a thunderous thud, the Texan’s crashed to the ring, and the Rock’s chin and neck slammed into his shoulder.  The Great One was thrown backwards by the force, and even after slamming onto his back, there was yet enough momentum that he rolled onto his stomach and momentarily shuddered like a fish out of water.

With a laugh befitting a Texas Rattlesnake, Stone Cold gave the bird to Mickey and Yu before rolling out of the ring.

The bell rang out to start the match.  The referee, seeing the prone form of the Rock, rolled his eyes and motioned for Yuuka to head to her spot on the apron.  A beat later, he signaled for Mickey to do the same, leaving Whirda and Yu Kanda to square off among the heat of the lights and the roar of the crowd.

Word Limit: 900
Posts: 2
Time Limit: 48 hours
Random Elements: On
Damage Meter: Off

Time limit starts at 12 pm CDT on July 15, 2018

[spoiler]
“Squared Circle” – The Fight Area is a 20-by-20 wrestling ring and the ‘ringside’ area surrounding, including the empty announce tables but not the ramp down to the ring (image below).  Unlike most stadium-themed Fight Areas, there’s a crowd for this one.  They have cardboard signs and will cheer, chant, and jeer throughout the contest.  Inside the ring is an NPC.  He is a plain, middle-aged white man wearing black pants and white-black stripped shirt.  He is a referee.  Intentionally doing him harm will get your team disqualified (gasp).  

This is a special contest that pits two teams against each other, but only one member of each time can be ‘legal’ at a given time.  The teams will tag in and out as the match progresses, until one team can score a ‘pinfall’ by pinning an opponent’s shoulders to the mat for a three count.  The other way to win is by putting your opponent in a submission hold and making them ‘tap out’ (give up) or by knocking them out for a referee’s ten count (either in the ring or outside of it).  The referee must be there in all those instances, so make sure he doesn’t get knocked out (they’re brittle).  Primes who are ‘legal’ may leave the ring, but you have only until a ten count to re-enter before you are counted out and lose.

Underneath the ring are various weapons your prime may use, which include:  steel folding chairs, folding ladders, folding tables, metal trash cans, fire extinguishers, a 2x4s.

The two primes who are not ‘tagged in’ must remain standing on the outside on their corner of the ring, although if you are feeling heelish (bad guy), you can slip in to help your partner or go ambush the other prime outside of the ring.  The referee won’t let those shenanigans go on for more than a few seconds, so don’t get disqualified.  

Stipulations: At the end of each post (or the beginning of the next one, in the event of a Super being used), the prime who just posted must ‘tag out’ of the match.  Contest also includes extra weapons for Primes.  These weapons and the Primes Weapon Moves are “illegal” and can only be used when the referee is out.

Image: https://ringthedamnbell.files.wordpress....04/raw.jpg

[PepsiWhirda]

It took every ounce of stubborn resolve—all the focus and determination learned from decades of combat—for Whirda not to turn and exit the arena, leaving the entire farce behind her.  Maybe it was the blinding fluorescence of the stadium lighting.  Maybe it was the throngs of jeering bystanders.  Or maybe it was the ill-fitting jumpsuit, and the new logos emblazoning her daggers.  

A budding realization, emphasized by Yuuka’s insistent hiss to, “Drink it,” her hand outstretched to proffer a glistening bottle of the brown liquid, struck Whirda profoundly.  At some point, her struggle had become spectacle.  Her desperate need to be free of the contagion had reduced her to a joke—something to be mocked, as the crowd mocked her now, shaking their Pepsi Sisters signs and whipping themselves into a frenzy.

Across the ring, her leather-clad opponent watched her squint, his face a mask of impassivity.  Drawing a steadying breath, then another, Whirda fought to regain equilibrium.  Her thought pattern shifted from despair back to the task at hand: victory, at any cost.

“Careful, Kanda!” the exorcist’s companion, some cross between a wererat and a cherubic halfling, squeaked.  “That’s Wiggly Whirligig, don’t underestimate her!”

Kanda’s lips drew back in a tight grimace, but he offered no response. As he regarded his dusky foe, he noted two serpentlike appendages writhing within the voluminous sleeves of her jumpsuit.  Every moment that passed allowed her more time to prepare spells and formulate attack routines.

Brandishing his katana, Kanda ran two fingers along the length of the blade.  “Mugen Unsheathe, Innocence Activate,” he intoned, an oath he had uttered a thousand times before.  The reflection glimmered in his eyes as a silver glow enveloped the weapon.  Wasting no time, the exorcist darted forward, his blade tracing a wide arc.

Whirda already knew the counter.  Her daggers hissed from their sheaths, the practiced movement happening quicker than either combatant’s eyes could follow.  Stepping aside and turning parallel to her approaching foe, reducing the plane of her torso, Whirda lashed out with her daggers in a one-two strike.  Metal screeched against metal, throwing sparks.  The attack stole the momentum from Kanda’s swing, forcing his arm out wide.  

Thinking she had him off-balance, Whirda dropped into a crouch and thrust one leg in the path of the exorcist’s feet, a clever tactic she had used in countless battles.  But Kanda, a veteran fighter—a consummate warrior in his own regard—had little difficulty hopping over the extended limb, even flipping his katana into a reverse grip and slashing out behind him.  The attack, a blind attempt to catch Whirda off-guard, nevertheless proved accurate.  Whirda tucked into a nimble roll, but when she regained her feet she felt the sting of a cut on the tip of her nose—the warm sensation of a trickle of blood across her lips.

“First blood,” the exorcist smirked.

A feral growl escaped from deep within her.  In a blur of movement, she hurled the shadechill dagger end over end, fluorescent light sparking off its wicked blade.  

Agile Kanda sidestepped the flying dagger, glaring at Whirda… but the plagued woman had vanished, a shimmering Pepsi logo hovering in the air where she had once stood.

Whirda reappeared behind her confused enemy, catching the thrown dagger in her free hand, the pinnacle of coordination.  The exorcist, anticipating the attack, tried to dart forward, out of her reach.  

An umbral serpent coiled around his neck, jerking him back.  A moment later, the pommel of a dagger smashed into the base of his skull, sending him staggering forward.

“Second blood,” Whirda offered, landing catlike in a crouch.

“Bah gawd,” the voice of the commentator boomed through the stadium, “the athleticism of this woman!”

“Holy cow!” Kanda’s diminutive ally whistled.  “Blues wasn’t kidding about you, Whirly.”

Blues.  That name, unearthed from the catacombs of her past, froze Whirda in place.  She turned a blank stare on Mickey, a question caught in her throat.

Seizing on her distraction, Kanda recovered and dashed in, jabbing his katana straight out toward Whirda’s stomach.

Whirda recovered her wits just in time.  A desperate, conjured gust of wind hurled her out of the katana’s reach, the plagued woman twisting to regain her bearings.  The thought to conjure a second, stabilizing gust crossed her mind a split-second before her head clipped the turnbuckle, disrupting her concentration.  Slipping from consciousness, she ragdolled into the reaching arms of the crowd.

*****

“3...”

Whirda’s head lolled about grotesquely.  The crowd piled in, hands grasping at her semi-conscious form like a mounting tide swallowing the shore.

“2…”

Blues.

A single, bleary eye fluttered open.  A storm brewed in Whirda, an ineffable hunger begging to be unleashed.  As her fury mounted, the dull gray iris shifted to an incandescent, icy blue.

“1…”

As the crowd erupted in deafening applause, falsely believing the fight to be at its end, so too did Whirda erupt from thin air above the distracted exorcist.  He caught sight of her, bringing his glowing sword across to parry the thrusting daggers, but even Kanda was too slow.  Both blades dug deep gouges in his chest.  

Kanda bullied forward, screaming his outrage at the plagued woman’s trickery.  Whirda pushed off and hit the mat, leveraging her momentum into a backward somersault and coming up against the turnbuckle beside her Youkai companion.

“Close one,” Yuuka offered plaintively.

Whirda reached out, slapping Yuuka’s hand.  “Gotta give ‘em a show.”

[Yu Kanda]

With his heartbeat throbbing deep inside the freshly cut gauges, Kanda felt the urge to break the newly arrived Pepsi-twig in half. With a grunt in his throat and murderous intent in his eyes, the swordsman took his first step towards Yuuka. His grasp on Mugen’s hilt tightened. Before anything, an unknown hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of his tunnel vision.

“Violation of the rules! No weapons allowed in the ring!”

The referee plucked the katana out of Yu’s hands. “You get a warning this time! Don’t let me see you using this thing again!” the referee—who seemingly appeared out of nowhere—cautioned Kanda. The weapon itself was thrown out of the ring, leaving the swordsman swordless. Yuuka simply snorted at the entire scene.

From the corner of his eyes, Kanda noticed Dwayne seizing the opportunity when the referee’s back turned to him, hurling a microphone at him. Yu caught it with ease and glanced at the device. Microphone in hand, the exorcist was taken back to the training hall with Dwayne, remembering his words of wisdom on how to win this competition. Recalling his wrestling persona, The Slag. It was time for The Slag to make his true appearance in the ring.  

Yu turned around, making sure he was facing the hard cam instead of his opponent. Like a showman reborn, Kanda gazed deep into the camera’s lens. With his newfound smoldering gaze—as taught by the Rock himself—he penetrated the recording device, reaching out to the thousands of hearts throughout the Omniverse that were spectating the live event.

Taking a deep breath, he cried out to the people, “Listen up!” Kanda’s voice boomed through the sound system of the arena. “What these people are doing to you is not right! They are trying to replace our beloved Pepsiman with these posers! -OUR- Pepsiman! The People’s legend!”  

The words struck some sensitive cords within the people’s hearts. They seemed to work, riling up the crowd—roaring loud enough to shake the very foundation of the ring.

“They are forcing these horrendous replacement ‘products’ down our throats, but I say: NO MORE! No longer will we allow these women to present themselves as his replacement. The Pebble and myself are here to set things right! We heard the cry of the people, and we will fight for the people! These Pepsi bitches are going down!” His speech lit a fire under the people’s ass. The crowd went wild—metaphorically tearing the arena’s roof off.

“And you!” the Slag pointed menacingly towards Steve Austin. “You...are an embarrassment to bald men everywhere.” A wave of cheers engulfed Kanda as he dropped the mic, turning to a dumbfounded Yuuka.

“So, are we fighting or what?” the beauty pondered out loud.

Kanda took this as his ‘go’ signal, rushing his opponent without a second thought. Balling a fist, the Youkai prepared to counterstrike. Her pupils widened when she noticed not one but two identical showmen approaching. “What the?!”

A straight right on one of the exorcists’ nose set free a breaking sound. The duplicate man stumbled back, attempting to stop the blood which flooded from his nose. The physical punishment gave the original Kanda enough time to get into position. Yuuka turned around in time to feel the exorcist's heel bury itself deep inside her abdomen, sending her flying across the ring.

*Thud*

The post in the corner of Team Dwayne involuntarily stopped Yuuka’s flight. The collision forced the remaining air from her lungs through a series of desperate coughs. The Pepsi-bitch looked up, brows buried into a deep frown. Both exorcists were standing tall above their prey.

“Hey! You! Out of the ring!” Earl shouted with his most authoritative of voices.

“Hold it, Ref! It’s the same guy, nothing in the rules on clones!” Dwayne yelled from the sidelines.

Yuuka pushed herself up, but two glove covered hands kept her from going away from the corner. “Sorry about this, Pal.”

***
“Well JR, you don’t see that every day. Having more effect in the ring with a microphone than a katana. He’s either a terrible swordsman or a brilliant entertainer. Maybe both?”

“If you think that’s impressive Jim, look how Dwayne Johnson is distracting the referee with a heated debate while Team Rock is clobbering on the Pepsi broad over in their corner.”

“That looks rather painful. JR, have you ever seen a mouse holding down a Pepsi-coated chick while two ponytailed, leather-fetish wrestlers are using her face as a punching bag?”

“No Jim, can’t say that I have. But... I am enjoying it.”

“Me too JR, me too. Some classic wrestling we are spectating here tonight.”

***

The exorcist twins kept hammering on the pinned down Youkai, who in turn went into full turtle defense-mode. The beatdown had the crowd chanting the wrestler’s name with each hit.

“Slag!”

“Slag!”

“Slag!”

Kanda could feel it, with every chant of the People his fists felt heavier, more impactful.

“Quick! The ref is turning back!” the mouse squeaked.

With his clone dissipating into thin air and Mickey releasing his hold, the battered Pepsi girl rolled to safety.

“The Pebble will now finish you off!” Kanda high fived his partner, sounding nothing like the serious swordsman growing weary of his partner’s jovial attitude. Somewhere along the line, the game had taken over... but for Dwayne and Mickey’s sake, he would play along.

899 Words
Used T2 Support: Clone
Clone part 2 move
remaining sp: 5/7

[PepsiYuuka]

"Fool. We all bloom to die."

Her words as she stood were as piercing as her smile, spoken with a turn on her heel.

"You think the audience is so stupid as to think we're replacements? My, rich from the ones 'borrowing' their names from someone who's already here." The shine in her crimson eyes was devious, intense. "So only one person in history is allowed to enjoy the crisp, refreshing taste of Pepsi? I hate to break it to you, but I think the people at home disagree. We are a coalition! We are a diverse and individual family, united by our passions! Even after we are gone- Pepsiman will blossom once more!"

Playing into the hooting of a few unsavory and already very intoxicated individuals in the back, she was making it up as she went. But doing so was strangely exhilarating in a way she couldn't explain. Enlightening, you could say. Why had she lived all of her life up to this point not shouting blatantly false insults into a boom mic in front of a live studio audience? God, what a shallow existence she must have had.

The mouse stepped forward with a chuckle, clearly infused with the same manic energy as Yuuka when onstage in front of an enraptured audience. Cracking his gloved knuckles, he stared up at the Youkai. "Y'know, you're not much like Pepsiman at all- have you ever met the guy?"

Momentarily, a metaphorical 'this decision will have significant effects on the story- choose your reaction wisely!' dialogue box appeared over Yuuka's head and she froze, processing.

"Nope!" A kodak-worthy smile returned to the Youkai's face to accompany her unbelievable truth. "So I'm not sure how we're supposed to be replacing him in the first place."

This elicited a few horrified gasps, and several more jeers from the crowd. However, tearing through all this noise was the great crash of thunder as a white-hot lightning bolt seared into the red, white and blue-clad competitor.

-

There was a crash of an aluminum can to the ground, too, as Mr. Bepis's fist impacted his desk.

"God damn it! Why are my promotional models letting themselves get shown up by a fucking mouse and a generic yaoi protagonist?! ...And Margaret, get me another Pepsi!"

-

Vision fading back in and ringing in her ears fading, Yuuka stumbled forward, teeth grit. She spat something incomprehensible under her breath as the rat closed distance and got in a solid punch to her gut as she flailed trying to guard against it. Not expecting such a literal low blow after Yu's fight, it seemed. So she lashed out with a foot, trying to trip the mouse- but he leapt over it like a child's skipping rope, and backward.

With a snort and a shake of her head to regain composure, she managed "you're the reason people have cats!"

"Gosh, that's quite the exaggeration!" Mickey chimed as he easily dodged a follow-up swing of the woman's fist- merely ducking out of the way, much to her chagrin.

Yuuka now finally had a moment where she regret being tall.

Cheers rung out from the stands as the competitors seemed to be engaging in a dance- Yuuka swinging fists and kicks, while Mickey made evading them look easy. It was clear he was merely playing with his opponent, his own mirth only seeming to sap it from Yuuka as she grew more and more frustrated. Not being able to catch her opponents wasn't anything new for her, but not being able to just shoot the bastard instead was the real stinger.

The mouse finally sprang up onto the ropes of the ring, looking Yuuka in the eye- and leapt at her, fist extended-

Only to find himself caught, the back of his skull grappled in the palm of the woman's hand.

With a devilish grin, the woman slammed her opponent downwards. Once, forehead into the metal turnbuckle. Twice, again. Third time, she instead aimed for his neck- forcing it into the ropes across the boundaries of the ring. Harder, and harder, throwing all of her weight into the maneuver, until the pressure would cut off both air and circulation to his head-

Strangulation was legal in wrestling, right?

The rodent objected to her unasked question with an unpleasant choking sound.

-

The commentators, on the other hand, were happy to give her answers- even if she wasn't listening to them.

"Whoa there! Someone tell the ol' lady those ropes are the boundaries, not a weapon!"

"Right you are, Jim- but you gotta give her some points for creativity!"

-

Just as it felt like her opponent might go slack under her weight, the woman was roughly shoved away from the ring's edge by the exorcist, dropping her quarry in shock.

"Get off of him, Pepsibitch!"

"Hey swordboy, stop interfering with the fight!" Shouted the referee in response. A cacophony rolled through the crowd, which was by now hurling insults at every party.

Mickey gasped as he tumbled to the ring, catching his breath. Surprisingly, he still seemed somewhat jovial despite the situation. "Hoo boy, talk about rope burn...!"

Yuuka simply clicked her tongue- and backed off, slipping through the ropes on her side. "Ugh, I'm getting too old for this. You catch the fucker," she grumbled through labored breath, playfully slapping Whirda on the shoulder.

893/900 words.

[Mickey Mouse]

This… was fun.

Mickey jiggled his head, trying to regain his senses after Yuuky Kazuky’s assault. She’d gotten him good, throttling him with those ropes—but the Pebble had more spunk in him than the gal pals expected.

Still in a slightly light-headed haze, Mickey heard a strangely fizzy-sounding pop come from across the arena, and his eyes darted upward to where his opponent entered the ring. Strangely, though, instead of her, all he saw was a spinning, translucent PepsiCo logo. His brow quirked.

“Where’d she go?!” he squeaked, spinning towards Kanda and Dwayne and throwing up his arms.

And then he felt Whirda’s boot slam into his face.

“Owwie!” he shouted, flying back across the arena and bouncing several times against the padded floor until rolling to a stop. He lifted his head up. “That hurt!”

“That’s the point,” she scowled, dropping into a fighting stance and sprinting at the mouse. He quickly pushed off the ground and into the air, somersaulting over Woody Wonderwall’s head and landing, gracefully, on the other side. Flexing his gloved fingers, he shot a fireball at his dusky foe. He heard another pop, and suddenly, the woman was staring him in the face, crouching to his eye level.

“Try harder, mouse,” she spat, throwing an uppercut into his chin and launching him into the air. He flew with speed toward the edge of the ring, his flight halted in midair as he slammed into the crotchety old referee’s face. The impact sent them both hurtling out of the ring, Mickey crashing into the announcer’s table. It cracked beneath the force of the mouse king’s blow, even despite his general lack of mass, and J.R. and Jim scattered. Meanwhile, Earl’s head collided with the concrete floor and he lost consciousness—for the moment.

“No!” a small voice piped up from the crowd. “Get up, Mickey!” The mouse looked up at the cutest little ten-year-old, pigtail-framed face gazing worriedly down at him. It seemed Little Susie had gotten a front row seat. “Come on,” she urged him.

On the other side of the arena, Yuuka golf clapped. “Nicely done,” she nodded, “though you could’ve made it a tad more exciting.”

“Let’s just finish the sword boy and move along,” Whirda grunted, glancing over at Kanda, who had yet to replace Mickey in the ring. With a huff, the plagued woman stormed towards the swordsman, who whispered furtively in the Rock’s ear. Dwayne hurriedly tapped the exorcist’s shoulder, and they both looked up at Whirlwind Wooselcock, standing on the other side of the ropes and silently beckoning the Slag to accept his punishment for daring to challenge the Pepsisters.

“Are you coming,” she barked, “or do I have to hop down and finish you myself?”

“I think you should stay right where you’re at,” Kanda smirked.

Whirda raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Dwayne folded his arms, scoffing. “You’ve heard of Hell in a Cell, right?” he asked, and the way Whirda’s face scrunched up indicated that… well, of course she hadn’t. “Well…”

“Get ready for Frick on a Stick!”

The high-pitched voice made the hairs on Whirda’s neck stand up. She spun around to face Mickey, but instead was greeted by the splintery length of a two-by-four to her dusky cheek. The board sent her skull crashing into the ring floor. She groaned as Mickey Mouse dropped the board to the ground. “Suck it, jabroni,” he bucked.

“Whoa, Mick,” Dwayne called, “watch the language, bro! You’ve got an image, remember!” Mickey shot the Rock a quizzical look—did ‘suck it’ not just mean ‘kneel to my obviously greater glory’? That’s what Play, Boy had implied.

Ah, whatever, he shrugged. This was too fun to worry!!

“Y’know,” he giggled, “you’ve got some attitude! We’re similar in that way, I can see why Blues liked ya, pal!” Whirda’s whole body tensed at the mention of the preteen machine, but Mickey hardly noticed. He walked over to the woman’s crumpled form and extended a hand. “And hey, for the record, Whirly,” he glowed, “any friend of Blues is a friend of mine!”

“It’s… Whirda,” the plagued woman snarled. Whirda’s cold eyes flickered up to Mickey’s face, and the mouse’s smile quickly drooped at the vindictiveness floating beneath the surface of her features.

Something was very wrong. Just like Blues had said. But before Mickey could rescind the offer, Whirda’s agile, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and jerked him so they were almost nose to nose. “How is he?” she asked, surprisingly cordial.

“Um, good—“

Once she’d confirmed that, Mickey was in the air. Meanwhile...Meanwhile, over near Little Susie—practically usurping the noise of the crowd with her frantic screams—Earl had begun to regain his senses, and spotted Mickey in Whirda’s hands as she lifted him up and prepared to toss him into the corner pole.

He also saw gloved fingers graze Kanda’s just before Whirda’s attack smashed a mouse skull into pure steel.

Mickey blacked out. The arena disappeared for a moment, and he knew Whirda thought she’d won as she turned her back and accepted the crowd’s cheers, heading to tag Yuuka. Then, Kanda slipped into the ring behind her and kicked Mickey beneath the ropes. “Get some rest, Pebble.”

The impact against the floor outside woke Mickey up. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” he groaned.

“It’s Slag!” Kanda called over his shoulder.

This was kinda fun, but dang, it hurt.

899/900 words according to Google Docs.

[PepsiYuuka]

Yuuka took the retiring rogue's hand, pulling herself back up and into the ring.

She stared the swordsman in the eyes once more, though this time more scuffed up and significantly more lacking in dignity, after her little speech. Not that she'd been overflowing with it in the first place given the fact she had been presented more like an amateur swimsuit model than a competitor, but hey. With a smirk and a thumbs up, she lowered her stance, preparing for the onslaught of attacks from Slaggy.

In response, Kanda's lip twitched. "Pepsiman must be rolling in his grave, listening to you say that."

"You'll be rolling in one after this, too."

Not waiting a second longer, the man launched forward, fists at the ready.

-

"Your Pepsi, sir."

Finally, Bepis's sloth of an assistant had returned with his soda, on a platter of porcelain and gold. Setting it all down on the desk, she turned back to Bepis and the screen, noting the Youkai getting another thorough face-pounding courtesy of her opponent. The man in charge, however, didn't seem all too concerned.

"Things aren't looking too good, sir."

"Heh. Don't worry about it. I have more than one trick up my sleeve when it comes to these things."

As vague and ominous as ever, Bepis.

-

As deep purple bruising consumed her forearms, Yuuka memorized the rhythm of her opponent's punches. One two. One two.

With a sharp breath through her teeth, she threw one foot outwards, shoving forwards with both arms and a twist of her ankle- knocking the man off balance and straight onto his ass. It wasn't much, but it was long enough for her to at least get in a swift kick to his unguarded side- making Kanda grit his teeth and writhe in pain.

However, she stepped back after just one shot, letting her opponent get to his feet with a gasp.

"Ah, it's no fun kicking a dog when he's down!" Though she was mostly serious, this was punctuated by a giggle. "Get up, boy- playtime's not over yet!"

Kanda backpedaled a few feet closer to his corner.

Whirda slunk after him, like a panther pacing around the bars of her cage. If she couldn't interfere herself just yet, perhaps someone could do it for her. Her eyes landed on the referee with a glint.

Too tired to keep her balance perfect, Yuuka stomped forward merrily- abandoning all pretenses of being graceful. (They were hard to keep up anyway, when the entire audience could see every stretch mark on her thighs in glorious 4k ultra high res. Almost like the people at home valued women more for their looks than fighting prowess.) Reaching the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, she leaned against them smugly a moment as she waited for her opponent to recover- both from her actual strike, and that crushing blow to his self esteem.

But not too long- before she hopped over them, grabbing one of the folding chairs at the side.

"God damn it." There was an understandable groan from the ref as he jogged over. "Hey, put it down! This is your first wa-"

As he passed, the rogue grabbed his shoulder and gave him a playful shove.

Ref whipping around to face her and give her the stern lecture of the minute, Yu, too, saw his chance- leaping after the Youkai and out of the ring. Though in his case, he grabbed Mugen's hilt, drawing it from its sheath. Fighting fire with fire.

Yuuka blocked his first swing with the chair, sparks cascading over her. But the second was too quick for her.

Instead, Whirda leapt into action, disappearing in a syrup-scented mist.

The exorcist’s blade pierced right through his target with a sickening crunch-

And a hiss- the telltale sound of agitated carbonated soda spurting out of a popped can. The now clearly unmasked referee, Pepsiman, crumpled to the ground like an aluminum can underfoot.

Whirda, now having appeared right beside him, took a deep breath in.

-

The stands, as expected, were buzzing with excitement at this sudden twist cut short.

"Whoa, iiiiit's Pepsiman! Talk about stacking the deck with a heel for the ref, King!" J.R. announced the moment he grabbed his somehow still-intact mic from the rubble.

"Right you are Jim- and wouldn't ya know it, he's gotten himself skewered once again! This year's DA sure hasn't been kind on everyone's favorite soda mascot. Hope he enjoys the cool, refreshing taste of death!

-

"FUCK!"

This time it was the sound of Bepis's foot against the leg of his table. They'd gone and gotten his paid-off ref killed. In a fit of rage he pitched the as of yet still unopened can of Pepsi on his desk at the wall to his right- unfortunately, the very wall Margaret was still standing in front of.

She never had a chance to dodge.

A poster worthy explosion of juicy head bits ensued. Brain matter mixed with foamy soda sprayed from the door to the window, brown and red painting the wall.

What a mess.

"Ugh. Karen, get the fucking mop!" He called into the hallway.

Coolly, Bepis turned his eyes back to the now blood-spattered flat screen TV on the wall, just in time to see Yuuka tag a soda (blood?) soaked Whirda back into the ring.

898/900 words.

tl;dr Some stuff, Kanda hits Yuuka, Yuuka hits Kanda, Kanda backs off, Yuuka grabs a chair and Kanda grabs his sword, then Whirda Umbral Tethers in making Kanda stab the ref, who was secretly Pepsiman all along. Shocker.

[Yu Kanda]

“NOOOOOOOooooooo! Pepsiman!” the mouse cried out in tears, rushing over to the fallen idol. The Pebble dropped to his knees near the now lifeless body of the canned hero. “W-what did you do to him?!”

Young Susie hopped the barrier and approached her hero. With a lingering tear in her eyes and a lump in her throat she mustered enough bravery to speak words of encouragement to her idol, “I-I’m sorry Mickey.” A snort cleared her nose before continuing, “You c-can hold Mr.Cuddles if you want, he helps.” The girl presented her precious bear to the heartbroken warrior.

Kanda observed the heartbreaking scene in front of him. He kept an emotionless face, but the sadness within his eyes betrayed him. The unfortunate chain of events had his partner in genuine pain. Dwayne walked over to his protege, “Everything will be alright, death is but a phase in this place. You will see him again.”

Words were wasted describing Yu’s anger boiling deep inside of him. He shifted his eyes towards the hooded woman, leaning against the colorful elastic ropes surrounding the ring. The only reason fire did not literally shoot out of his eyes was merely due to biological impossibility.

“That look is giving me the chills. Please... continue.” The woman whispered with a wicked grin painted on her face, just loud enough for Yu to hear it. With burning intensity the exorcist took a step towards his newly found anger outlet before he was stopped by his wrestling mentor.

“Stop, don't give in, it's what they want. Remember how to fight in the ring.”

“This is your way of fighting Dwayne, now observe mine.” Crackling sounds emerged from Kanda’s sword. The innocence energy created the second katana in his empty hand and forced Dwayne to take a step back. Even he knew there was no talking the Slag out of this one. A graceful leap placed Kanda back in the ring, across from his opponent.

“WAIT!”

“Don’t do this Kanda, not like this!” the Pebble cried out, “I want to hurt these Jabronis just as much as you, but we do it fair, by the rules. Ref or no ref.” Mickey said with clenched fists and a serious look. It seemed Yu’s partner regained his fighting spirit.

The Slag did not respond in words; he communicated with Mickey simply through their linked gazes. Kanda sheathed Mugen back into its hilt and threw it towards his partner.

“All of that build up for nothing? Way to let a woman down, the Slag” Whirda mocked from a distance.

Yu responded accordingly—slamming his fist onto the ground, shaking the bloodied canvas underneath.  The floor cracked open, two innocence coated chains flying towards Whirda. The assassin’s eyes widened. Acting on pure instinct she dodged the first attempt to shackle her. The graceful catlike movements carried her agile body through the ring, chains following close behind her. Kanda concentrated on his flying projectiles catching their target. The shackles closed in; it would just be a matter of time before the Pepsi hag was caught. A mere moment before one of her ankles got caught, a very subtle—but not completely undetectable—nod was given to the stands.

Yu’s eyes narrowed as a drop of sweat made its way down his temple.

Just...a….little...further.

Suddenly darkness…

All the lights were mysteriously switched off.

Another dirty Pepsi trick.

“Are you this desperate to win you cheating wench!” Yu’s voice penetrated the darkness.
He had his chains lay dormant while he waited for the lights to return.

A warm breath caressed his ear, “Welcome to my world, little man.”

Kanda’s cry of agony was heard by all when he felt a dagger make its way into his stomach.

Out of nowhere several ridiculously large spotlights got turned on. Every pupil in the crowded hall had difficulty adjusting to the abundance of light that gathered around a mystery guest.

“No way this is a fair fight! Lucky for you, there is a backup referee: Me!” Out from the shadows a tall, red and yellow spandex-wearing, bandana covered, mustache man appeared. The crowd went wild with the new ‘referee’ making his way to the ring. The hall filled with cheers when the classic rock song—iconic to his entrance—started playing.
Mr. Hogan made his way to the ring, but not before fist-bumping his brother in arms, the Rock.

The lights turned back on when Hogan entered the ring, receiving an even more substantial wave of cheers than the fighters themselves did. Even in the Omniverse, there was no escaping Hulkmania.

Whirda stood perplexed, distracted as both chains shot up, clasping around the wrists of the shadow assassin.

“Godsdammit!”

A firm pull forced the woman to her knees. A wounded, bleeding exorcist dragged himself in front of the incapacitated broad. Kanda’s murderous intent was as clear as day, not even the foreboding shadow covering his eyes was able to mask this aura of death.

Whirda desperately janked the chains.

“Don’t you worry, I won’t be the one to punish you for your crimes against the people.” Kanda turned towards his partner, “He will.” A trail of blood followed the Slag as he stumbled to the edge of the arena, “Make them pay...Partner.” He tapped Mickey on the shoulder and tilted over into the arms of Dwayne.

“You did good Slag, real good.”

899 words

[PepsiWhirda]

Enough.

With a sound like things tearing, the air around Whirda began to darken.  Wisps of shadow coalesced around the kneeling Prime, still bound by the exorcist’s chains but now appearing uninterested, her attention focused inward as the contagion’s energy pulsed and rippled outward.  

Show them your majesty, the hungry voice implored.  Let them witness the true might of Whirda Windstrom.

This time, Whirda didn’t argue.  Her head tilted back, her mouth twisted in a grin wrought of pure, sadistic elation.  No longer was she the goodly crusader who had fought to liberate the Moors.  Now, in mind and in body, she had become a creature of darkness—indiscriminate evil.

The mouse cast an uneasy gaze at the exorcist, but when he opened his mouth to speak a sudden, howling wind swallowed his voice.  Whirda rose to her feet in the center of the ring, her platinum locks whipping around wildly.  Her eyes glowed a fierce, incandescent blue, bright like glowing embers affixed in her skull.

“Now,” Whirda rasped, her voice so preternaturally coarse it halted the approaching Mickey in his tracks, “it’s finally time to play.”  With a single flex of her taut, black-veined muscles, the exorcist’s chains snapped.

Mickey clenched his jaw and faced the cackling woman, his gloved fists raised defensively.  He took a step forward, but found himself moving backward and to the right instead as the gathering maelstrom grew in intensity, quickly outgrowing the arena.  The determined mouse bent low, inching forward, losing sight of Whirda as the wisps of shadow clumped together and thickened, obscuring his vision.

“Mickey!  Help me!”  

The shrill, plaintive scream rose above the gale.  Mickey spun on his heel, almost losing his balance, to see Susie clinging desperately to the bottom rope, her tiny body lifted fully off the ground as the winds tugged and clawed at her.  His enemy forgotten, Mickey turned, his face locked in a grimace.  By all rights, the mighty maelstrom should have lifted the mouse off the ground already, but somehow—impossibly!—sheer tenacity kept him inching closer to his pigtailed admirer.

Whirda, ensconced in the eye of the storm, surveyed the chaos she had wrought.  All manner of detritus, from loose flyers and Pepsi Sisters signs to the heavy wooden 2x4s and metal chairs from beneath the ring, were pulled into the umbral maelstrom.  She saw Yuuka pop open her parasol, deflecting a fire extinguisher with a gush of white foam.  She seemed, with a plaintive look at her maniacal teammate, to recognize the folly of opening an umbrella in a hurricane, and was promptly taken from her feet, the first to succumb to the growing storm.

A hand clamped down on Whirda’s shoulder, and she turned to meet the steely gaze of the mustached referee.  

“I fear no man, no beast, no evil, brother,” Hulk Hogan growled, towering over Whirda, his nose a mere inch from hers.  “Whatever the hell this is, you better shut it down before I rain fury down on you the likes of which you’ve—”  The referee stopped short as a metal trash can clipped the back of his head.  His eyes crossed and his mustache twitched, and then he too was airborne.

Whirda Windstrom hadn’t flinched.

Mickey groaned his frustration as he fought to get to Little Susie’s side, every inch akin to scaling a mountain.  His gloved hand outstretched, his eyes mere slits to protect from the whipping sawdust and debris, he managed, for an instant, to brush his fingertips against hers.  Her expression seemed to soften—a flicker of hope permeating her terror.  Her hero had come to save her!

An umbral dagger, as solid as steel, tore through Mickey’s glove and bit deeply into the flesh beneath.  He shrieked and drew his hand close to his chest.  That single moment of distraction cost him dearly.  He watched, his mouth wide in wordless denial, as Little Susie lost her grip on the bottom rope and was claimed by the maelstrom.  Then he was claimed as well, ragdolling end over end in the powerful winds.

One after another, they were all taken.  Yu Kanda, the Rock, Steve Austin, both of the hapless commentators, even several members of the front row and the still-leaking corpse of Pepsiman—each one succumbed, in time, to the majestic storm.  Finally, when she was confident none had escaped, Whirda leapt in as well, stabilizing herself with gust after gust of conjured wind.

Searching for her big-eared foe, Whirda watched with a trace of satisfaction as Kanda and Yuuka hurtled past, twisting and writhing to keep their bearings as sword and parasol jabbed, swept, and parried.  Another gridlocked pair, the Rock and Steve Austin, followed closely behind, slugging each other with heavy punches, their muscles bulging.  And yet, no Mickey.

Gloved hands closed around Whirda’s throat, squeezing with surprising strength.  She twisted, releasing a steady stream of umbral daggers from an outstretched palm, scoring two wicked hits before a huge, yellow boot caught her in the stomach, stealing her breath.  The two combatants separated, Mickey snarling as the storm carried him away.

A flash of blonde pigtails caught her eye as Little Susie passed, still screaming for her cartoon hero.  Whirda concentrated briefly before lashing out and snatching the girl’s ankle, establishing the tether.

When Mickey came back around, both Whirda and Susie had vanished.

As quickly as it had started, the maelstrom began to wane.

[Mickey Mouse]

When the maelstrom finally ended, Mickey hit the ground with a thud.

He winced as he pushed himself up, opening his eyes to the sight of the devastated arena. Whirda’s monstrous storm destroyed almost the entire room. Secondaries took cover beneath their seats. As Mickey’s eyes readjusted, Whirda stood before him, a dagger held to Little Susie’s neck.

“No,” he started towards them, but Whirda pressed the cold steel to Susie’s skin and stopped Mickey in his tracks. The altered woman did not speak, but Mickey knew the implication: one more move, and it was curtains for the girl.

Susie, for her part, was absolutely losing her shittake mushrooms. She shook beneath Whirda’s grip, her pigtails jiggling as tears streamed down her face.

“Don’t worry, Susie,” Mickey attempted to calm the girl, “I’ve got ya.”

Little Susie’s face scrunched. Behind her and her dark captor, Mickey could see Yu Kanda begin to rise from the ground. The swordsman reached for Mugen when he saw Whirda with her captive and rushed for the ring.

“Kanda, don’t—”

Whirda whipped around, raising the dagger to block the strike before disappearing again with Susie. Mickey searched frantically until he spotted the pair on the scaffolding above the arena, barely dangling  after the maelstrom’s impact. The mouse hopped in the air and landed squarely on his magic carpet.

“You want her?” she smirked as he reached her eye level. “Go get her.”

She shoved Susie toward the ring. Kanda made a break for the girl, but was struck by one of Whirda’s umbral tethers and teleported somewhere in the destroyed stands. Mickey leapt from the carpet after Susie as she plummeted toward the canvas floor of the arena.

“I’m comin’, Susie!” he shouted, reaching with both arms for the girl. She screamed as she fell, reaching up with one arm and wildly flailing the other. Gloved fingers danced with tiny, pale ones as they desperately tried to link, just out of reach.

The carpet swept underneath Mickey, and in a last ditch effort, he grasped one of her pigtails.

*snap*

The carpet skidded to a halt.

Mickey Mouse froze. Susie’s bright blue eyes stared before her, the light drained. She dangled limply from the king’s grasp.

From the stands, Kanda shoved Whirda aside to see the horrific sight that hovered just above the ring. Yuuka Kazami pushed herself out of a pile of rubble just in time to see the terror her partner had wrought in her brief absence.

The exorcist darted down the stands, clambering over chairs and sliding over the barrier until he stood next to the ring. “Mickey…”

The mouse’s mouth hung open.

Strawberry-blonde hair slipped through his fingers. Little Susie fell the final few feet to the arena, crumpling in a heap of high hopes cut too short. Mickey Mouse didn’t weep. He simply stared.

Erza.

Belle.

Susie.

Too late, too weak to save any of them. And Susie… was just an innocent secondary. For her, there wouldn’t be any coming back. No Omni to offer her salvation.

It was done. And it was his fault.

...what kind of hero was he?

Mickey looked to the stands, where Whirda Windstrom stood, ringed by a halo of darkness. He stood and stared her down. Kanda followed his gaze.

He stepped off the carpet and flipped over the ropes of the arena as he prepared to dash at the dusky woman. She was ready, several daggers flying at him at a quick speed. Unable to dodge, he braced himself for impact, but at the last moment, Kanda’s fingers closed around his wrist and yanked him down.

Then, the pair of goody-two-shoes primes exploded in a burst of the whitest light Whirda and Yuuka had ever seen. For minutes—whiteness, everywhere they looked. When the women finally regained their sight, Whirda teleported next to her partner.

“You killed that little girl,” Yuuka spoke. Images of Clownpiece and her other children flashed in her head.

“The mouse killed her,” the changed Whirda growled. “I simply opened the door.”

Smoke billowed from the spot where Mickey Mouse and Yu Kanda had self-destructed. Whirda scoffed. So overwrought by their failure as ‘heroes’ they’d taken their own lives.

How boring.

Just when the thought of victory began to creep into the women’s minds, a gloved hand appeared. But… a five fingered one.

A tall, slender figure entered the ring. Long, bluish-black hair spilled down his shoulders, interrupted by two round ears poking out the side of his head. His shirtless body glistened in the fluorescents of the squared circle, dusting off red shorts and wrinkling the spherical black nose sitting on his otherwise human face at the smell of the devastation.

Mickanda cracked gloved knuckles, staring up at the pair of women—his “opponents.” He smirked, wiggling his fingers. Rainbow essence swirled and a long, key-shaped katana dropped into his hand.

“Whirda Windstrom. Yuuka Kazami,” he said, a high-pitched tenor harmonizing with the exorcist’s silky bass, “I will deliver you both from the evil that plagues you.”

“What fresh hell is this?” Yuuka scoffed at the mouse-samurai hybrid.

“I… am Mickanda.”

Innocence energy swam up the blade of the Keytana, and yellow boots began their charge toward the women. Evil would be exorcised. Little Susie would be avenged.

From the stands, the hiding crowd began to finally emerge. Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson stood up and raised a fist.

“Mickanda Forever!!”

900/900 words.

Mickey Mouse and Yu Kanda have fused to become the great arbiter of innocence and angelic demonslayer, Mickanda.

Little Susie is dead. Sorry, readers.

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#17 Whirda Windstrom & #31 Yuuka Kazami vs #01 Yu Kanda & #16 Mickey Mouse

Mickanda wasted no time in laying down his angelic judgment on the plagued woman and her snarling compatriot. Or trying to, anyway.

The fused mouse-human hybrid was quick, but not quick enough to catch either of the women off-guard. As he sprinted up the stands, leaping from one chair to another, Whirda disappeared, attaching an umbral tether to Yuuka and successfully evading their new opponent’s initial charge. The mouse-eared man spun around to see the Pepsisters reappear in the ring.

“That was close,” Yuuka muttered under her breath, stepping out of the teleportation.

“He’s nothing,” Whirda growled. She turned, ostensibly to toss some umbral daggers in the fused man’s direction, but instead found herself staring down the sharp end of Mickanda’s Keytana. The hybrid had hurled it at her, and she caught sight of it just in time to duck beneath it.

Yuuka wasn’t so lucky. The Keytana dug into her leg, slicing through her ankle and sticking in the floor of the arena, essentially pinning the Youkai to the spot. Yuuka Kazami hissed in pain, leaving a flustered Whirda to sit for a moment in her own fury, which boiled to the surface much more readily now than it had even an hour ago.

The dusky-faced woman marched to Yuuka, wrapping her fingers around the Keytana’s hilt and ripping it out of the ground and out of her partner’s leg. The green-haired woman screamed again, stumbling and falling to her knees as Whirda Windstrom turned to face their overconfident adversary, who’d returned to the ring. She brandished the fused man’s sword at him, the scowl on her face deepening as the lights in the arena began to flicker and go dark one by one. First, just the lights nearest Whirda faded, and then they all began to go, one by one by one, until the arena was almost pitch black.

“Catch me now,” Whirda snarled, swinging the Keytana forward at the tall, slender form of Mickanda. The exorcist reached up and grasped the blade, stopping it in its tracks. It dug into his gloved hand, ripping through the fabric and through his skin; he felt the warmth of his own blood running down his arms and sighed, closing his eyes and falling into a strangely zen-like state.

From his touch, innocence energy lit up the Keytana and flowed down even into its hilt. It began to crawl up Whirda’s fingers and wrists and the darkness inside her recoiled, releasing her grip on the sword and stepping back. Light blue energy snaked up her arms, illuminating her position just in time for Mickanda to readjust his grip on his weapon and slash it at Whirda’s abdomen, slicing through her stomach and sending her toppling to the floor.

The sword glowed bright, blanketing the entire arena in a dim blue glow. Mickanda stepped toward Whirda, glancing down at her. “Sorry, pal,” his strangely twin-toned voice frowned, “you’ve still got a friend in us if you want.”

Whirda looked to let out a furious roar, but was halted by the impact of Mickanda’s yellow boot to her face, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Yuuka, meanwhile, clambered for the edge of the ring. Stone Cold Steve Austin, broken and battered from Whirda’s maelstrom but still able to stand, had limped to the edge and tossed the Youkai her parasol just in time for her to whip it open to block another assault from the Keytana. Mickanda pressed forward, trying to break through Yuuka’s defenses, but for an umbrella, the woman’s shield was surprisingly resilient.

When Mickanda stepped back, Yuuka shut the parasol and launched a barrage of flower bullets at the fused creature, pelting him in his bare chest. The bullets dug into the man’s skin, and he stepped back, unable to move as shot after shot collided with him. Yuuka pulled herself up by the ropes, holding herself aloft with one hand and firing with the other. When at last Mickanda seemed to be subdued by the bullets—though still standing—she took a moment to breathe, and smirked.

“You're just making things easier. Now I only have to defeat one of you,” the Youkai grinned, lifting her parasol and launching herself off the ropes, sprinting as best she could toward the man with one foot still bleeding profusely. She swung the parasol down at the deliverer, preparing to bash him in the side of the head and send him into the same realm of unconsciousness Whirda already occupied.

Until one of Mickanda’s hands raised and grabbed the parasol.

Yuuka’s eyes went wide as Mickanda lazily looked up, in pain from the many bullet wounds in his chest but barely hanging on.

“We are sorry,” he droned, slamming the parasol’s handle into Yuuka Kazami’s face and knocking her to the ground. “Be wary of the darkness,” Mickanda said to Yuuka, and she faded as a bright white light washed over the arena, and Mickey Mouse and Yu Kanda both fell out of the transformation and to the floor of the arena.

Yu Kanda pushed himself to a standing position, nursing the remnant bullet wounds in his chest, knowing one of them had to be standing to be declared winner of this match. Hulk Hogan approached the exorcist tentatively to raise his hand and declare the pair’s victory. With the crowd cheering for Dwayne’s apprentices Yu simply stood there, watching as his partner’s heart broke. Having shared a link with him mere moments ago, he knew exactly how Mickey was feeling, and it ate him from the inside.

Mickey Mouse, meanwhile, crawled to Little Susie’s body and laid her head on his chest.

This was no way to win anything.

* * *

In the conference room that PepsiCo had sort of commandeered, Mr. Bepis scowled.

“Hmph,” he huffed, “defeated by a long-haired hippie and a cartoon mouse. Disappointing.”

He held out a hand, and a crystal goblet filled with the brown elixir of life he peddled to the populace was dropped in his fingers almost automatically. He swished the liquid around a bit, and then placed the cup to his lips. He prepared to drink, but fury at his defeated minions—and his thwarted plans—overcame him, and he squeezed the glass, smashing it into scores of pieces with his Pepsi-addled might.

Blood snaked through his fingers where the crystals sliced his hand open, weaving through and mixing with the tributaries of Pepsi cascading across his palm and down his arm.

His harem of assistants remained frozen behind him, like bottles of the elixir left too long in the freezer, as he used his clean hand to flick off the dissatisfying stream of Whirda Windstrom and Yuuka Kazami’s climactic battle. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

He leaned back in his office chair, licking the cocktail of Pepsi and blood off his hands and slurping it down his throat as new plans for world domination festered in his head.

[spoiler]
Mickey and Yu win and advance to the semi-final.

The Pepsi Ladies move to the Consolation bracket and will be on bye in Round 4.[/spoiler]