Here we are, ladies, gentlemen, and theydies, in round three of this here tournament. I, Terrence Anathema, have usurped the usual Announcer for this one because reasons.
Our two contestants today are Jesus Archangard, Deadblogger extraordinnaire, and Fien "Hella" De Vos, and both of them would rather be anywhere but here, I'd imagine. I mean, it looks like Arkngard literally just woke up (and it really shows in his outfit; his black beret is sliding off his head and his turtleneck is all wrinkly and torn), and I'm sure we're all aware that Hella has been having a series of bad days since December 2016. The randomly-generated arena they'll be slugging it out in is a bus stop on a street corner. Fitting, I'd say.
"Right, I'd imagine we'd both rather be anywhere but here," says Archangard, breaking the silence of their battleground, "but it seems to me that neither of us can leave until we fight or whatever." He pulls out his several-years-obsolete smartphone and starts thumbing through his apps as his opponent stares incredulously at him.
"I really hope this is an hallucination," Hella responds, brandishing her knife with a flourish. "Only one way to find out, though. You fuckin' ready?"
With that, she starts forward at top speed, intent on ending this round before it can start. However, mere seconds before she can reach him, Arkngard touches his phone screen and blinks out of existence.
Is that even allowed?
Hella is, well, hella pissed off at this development.
"Of fucking course this was just a hallucination. Why the fuck would it have been anything else?" She turns away and begins walking back in the direction she came from.
After a few moments pass, Archangard reappears in the same spot he was in before vanishing.
"Sorry about that. I had no idea who you are, so I took a second to get acquainted with you by reading a few posts on your blog. Almost brought a few beers back with me, but I figured you wouldn't want any right now." He taps his phone screen a few times, causing a figure to begin to materialise at his side. "I did bring my dog, though. His name's Trevor, and I'm sure you and him will get along fine."
The swirling darkness next to him takes the form of a larger-than-average black dog, causing Hella to recoil in shock when Trevor starts to charge at her. However, she shoots a piercing glare at that swarthy canine and he stops in his tracks, then collapses after a few seconds.
"Oh yeah, you can stop animals' hearts, can't you?" Forgot about that," Arkngard sighs dejectedly. "I didn't have time to read everything you wrote, so I took a little detour to the opening post of this blog to read your character synopsis. No matter."
Trevor then goes up in smoke and stops existing, and Hella begins anew her assault on her pretentious opponent. As she reaches him for the second time, he, instead of disappearing, uses his phone powers to conjure something in his right hand. Looks like a book of some sort.
"Here, thought you might want this again," he says. "It belongs to Eefje, as I'm sure you're aware," and he twists his hand so that the book intercepts Hella's knife.
"Having fun, 'Murderer'?"
Looks to me like Hella's trembling with anger, glaring daggers into Archangard's indifferent eyes. I'm gonna go out on a limb, here, dear audience, and assume that Arkngard fucked up. Fucked up real bad.
"Well," Hella responds with a voice so calm you'd think she's not royally pissed off right now, "you fucked up. Fucked up real bad." She shoots her offhand forward with impressive speed, squarely touching Archangard's chest where his heart is. "As I'm sure you're aware, since you've read my bio, that I can stop your heart with a single touch," pulling her knife out of that devastated book as she speaks.
Even from up here I can tell Archangard's having a bad time right now. He's clearly in a fuck-tonne of pain, but he continues to run his fingers across his phone screen. Another cloud of smoke appears by his feet, and dissipates to reveal a case of beer.
"Thought you might like that after this is over," he says with a cracking voice. "However, as you might recall, I'd rather not be here, so I did this purposefully. You could say I'd rather not be here more than you'd rather not be here." He jabs at his phone some more.
"It's been fun, though, Fien. Tchüss."
And he again blinks out of existence. I really wish he wouldn't do that, but since Hella was seconds away from delivering a fatal blow to him, I'm just gonna declare Archangard the loser of this fight, and Fien "Hella" De Vos the winner.
Are you entertained, dear reader? 'Cause I know I am.
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