SSJRuss

I know we said no restrictions, but can an entry be a 1 v 1 v 1? Or two v two? I assume so, but thought I'd ask to be sure.

Yeah. It has a crap ton of characters and set up that I've already planned out, so I might as well try to write them every now and then.

Not a surprising win for Meowth, or that we didn't get a lot of votes. I'm the only person whose heard of Whiplash, after all.

That's my kind of logic!

Funny enough, Nesh is the one who got me into it too.

I mean that is the likely outcome here. I really like how creative you are with playing with power sets. Of course Allomancy what have an effect on lantern rings, such a good concept. When it comes to voting, I usually think that if these combatants battled 10 times, how many wins would they have. Considering all scenarios, I think Vader has the slight edge in favorable outcome.

I wouldn't count out the Zygerrians here. Those energy bows and do some real damage and I think they manage to overwhelm the odst, if only temporary.

This is so imaginative and good characterization. I love the judges! This is one tough match to beat *sweats* A fitting scenario for Hannibal and Remy to go head to head (so to speak). My money is on Remy. Got to love an underdog.

The Loser’s Club Part 13 Previously - Part 11 Part 8 --Some abandoned warehouse in Verse City M. Bison's Psycho Energy crackled through the air, clashing against the threads of Doflamingo’s Devil Fruit powers. Across from him, Doflamingo stood as calm as ever, grinning, though his coat bore several scorched holes from Bison’s relentless attacks. Bison shot forward like a bullet, his Psycho Crusher splitting the air. The energy around him burned brighter as he aimed to crush Doflamingo once and for all. The Shadaloo king could feel victory within his grasp. No one, no one, could withstand the full brunt of his Psycho Power. But just as he was about to collide with Doflamingo, his opponent raised a single finger, and thin, razor-sharp strings snapped into place in front of him, forming an almost invisible net. Bison’s Psycho Crusher struck the strings, but instead of slicing through, the threads twisted and coiled around him, pulling him to a grinding halt. “Fuffuffuffu. Predictable,” Doflamingo said, his voice filled with amusement. With some effort, he flicked his wrist, and the strings hurled Bison backward, slamming him into a crumbling wall with enough force to dent the steel supports of the warehouse. Bison growled as he pulled himself out of the debris, dust and rubble falling off of his shoulders. His eyes burned with Psycho Energy. “You dare mock me?” Doflamingo chuckled, his grin widening as he stepped forward. “Mock you? Oh no, Bison. I’m testing you. And you’re doing well for someone who is holding back his true power.” He raised his hand, and more threads began to weave through the air, crisscrossing the space between them like a spiderweb. “You’ll have to prove you’re worth our time if you want to walk out of here alive.” Bison was furious. He knew this man was toying with him. It was infuriating that his effort was not enough to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. He didn’t have time for this, but if he wanted to see the true power of Psycho Energy, he’d show it to him. Bison leapt and unleashed a barrage of Psycho Shots, the spheres of energy streaking toward Doflamingo with blistering speed. Doflamingo moved quickly, his strings forming barriers and deflecting each blast with precision. The last Psycho Shot grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow burn. “Close,” Doflamingo admitted, wiping the blood from his cheek with a gloved hand. “But not close en-” The attack was a diversion, as Bison flared his power and in an instant, shattered the strings and closed the distance between them, his fist connecting with Doflamingo’s gut, driving him several feet back into the opposite wall. Bison landed on the ground in a crouch, his aura crackling like wildfire. “Enough games, I will not be made a fool of.” Doflamingo coughed, holding his stomach as he steadied himself to his feet. To Bison’s confusion, he began to laugh. “Fuffuffuffu! That’s more like it, Bison. Truly impressive. I’ve seen what I needed to see." Bison, panting slightly from the exertion but keeping his guard up. "What is the meaning of this? Are you surrendering?" Doflamingo chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite. You’ve been chosen by my employer. I just wanted to make sure you were worth his time. Vince will be pleased to see you.” "Vince?" Bison’s eyes narrowed. "Who is this Vince? And why should I care?" Doflamingo smirked, his hands slipping into his coat pockets. “You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say he’s the one who truly runs this city. And he’s someone you’ll want to meet if you’re serious about building your empire here.” Bison considered the offer. He didn’t trust Doflamingo, but if this Vince could offer him the resources to establish Shadaloo in Verse City, it was worth investigating. “Very well,” Bison said finally. “Take me to him. But know this—if this is some kind of trick, I will destroy you.” Doflamingo chuckled, his grin returning. “Fuffuffuffu. No tricks, Bison. Just opportunities. Follow me. Come along, then. Vince is expecting us." ________________________________________________________________ --The Commission's Lair, in Verse City Doflamingo led M. Bison to a towering skyscraper that loomed ominously over the bustling streets of Verse City. The building was unlike anything Bison had seen before—its architecture a blend of styles from countless worlds, reflecting the diverse origins of the city’s inhabitants. Inside, several of the walls had posters depicting this “Mr. McMahon” promoting various wrestling companies, namely WWE. They entered through a set of grand wooden doors, the interior spoke of quiet money. Bison could feel the air thicken with a sense of power and authority. At the far end of the room stood a figure, his back turned as he gazed out of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. The man was dressed in an immaculate suit, his presence exuding a calm yet overwhelming sense of control. This must be Vince. "Welcome, M. Bison. I've been expecting you,” Vince spoke, without turning around. Bison crossed his arms, studying the man with a critical eye. "So, you're the one Doflamingo spoke of. What do you want with me?" Vince turned to face him, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I want to offer you something—a place at the table. Verse City is a nexus point of a thousand, billion worlds. It is the kind of place where people like myself, and you as well, can claim power and really turn this city on its head.” "And what do you get out of this?" Vince chuckled. "I already have control over this city, Bison. But maintaining that control requires strong, capable allies. I have a group of friends, The Commission, made up of the most powerful beings across the multiverse. They facilitate that control, as well as satisfy their own domains and agendas. By joining, you'll gain access to resources and influence beyond whatever backwater world you come from." Before Bison could respond, Doflamingo spoke. "The Commission is just about to start a meeting. Join us, and see for yourself." Vince nodded, motioning for Bison to follow him. "Excellent idea. Come, Bison. Meet your new colleagues." The trio traveled to a lower floor to the meeting room. Bison followed behind as Vince and Doflamingo walked into the already full room. Around the large, circular table sat some figures of intrigue, their names labeled on immaculate name tags in front of them. Bison stood, taking their measure. Vince walked to his seat at the head of the table, a position that left no doubt as to who held the ultimate authority in this gathering. Doflamingo took his seat casually, sitting next to Talia al Ghul. She sat with an air of regal confidence, her eyes sharp as she observed Bison. Across from her, Professor Zoom tapped his fingers impossibly fast. His crimson and yellow suit glinted under the faint light as he smirked at Bison. Next to him was Hexadecimal. She wore a porcelain mask that shifted from an amused grin to a sharp frown as she tilted her head towards the newcomer. Another figure, more of a silhouette than man, was also joining them. The Father is what his tag read. He sat straight-backed and smoked a pipe. King Cold sat with an air of authority, towering over most with his large figure. His tail flicked lazily as he offered Bison a cold smile. His size was comparable to another named Maestro, who looked unamused at Bison’s arrival. The three remaining were simply known as Bill, Babidi, and Ainz Ooal Gown. Ainz looked as though he were some undead warlord, but he was the first to greet Bison and offer him a seat. "Take your place, Bison. The Commission is ready to convene." Bison took the offer and sat. "Quite the assortment of tyrants you've assembled here," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I assume you've all been promised something for your compliance." Professor Zoom chuckled. "Promised? No, we take what we want here. But I suppose someone as simple-minded as you would need promises to motivate you." Before Bison could reply, Talia cut in. "Enough, Zoom. Let him prove his worth before you dismiss him." "Fuffuffuffu," Doflamingo interjected, lounging back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "He already has, Talia. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here now." Vince raised his hand to call the meeting to order. "Our newest colleague, M. Bison, has already proven himself a man of ambition and power. I expect him to contribute greatly to our efforts. Now, let’s take a look at our spoils. We’ve got a large order of new worlds to subjugate and resources we need and time is money!” ______________________________________________________________ --Verse City Rodeo The smell of hay and popcorn filled Meowth’s nose as he sat miserably in a small, rusty cage. The cage rattled with every step of the rodeo handler who carried him closer and closer to the arena. Through the gaps in the bars, Meowth could see the packed stands of the Verse City Rodeo. The roaring crowd, the loudspeakers blaring country music, and the announcer hyping up the next event all blurred together that made his ears flatten against his head. “How’d it come to dis?” Meowth muttered to himself. “Me, a sophisticated Pokémon with brains and charisma, reduced to a circus act for a bunch’a yee-haws!” He slumped back against the cold metal bars, his tail flicking nervously. His mind wandered back to the events that led him here—the disaster that was their attempt to steal that truck from Ernest. It had started out like any other genius plan: Jesse, James, and Meowth had scoped out their target, a Multiversal Postal Service delivery truck that they were convinced was filled with valuable Pokémon cargo. Ernest, the bumbling delivery driver, didn’t seem like much of a threat, and it should’ve been an easy grab. Except it wasn’t. Ernest had been more slippery than they expected. Just when they’d cornered him in an alley, he’d somehow outmaneuvered them. The goofy driver had somehow used a nearby pipe as an escape route, sliding down into the sewers and leaving the three of them scrambling to chase him. “Dat’s where it all went wrong,” Meowth muttered bitterly. Jesse and James had been too slow, and before they knew it, police sirens were blaring down the street. Jesse and James had gotten themselves arrested in the confusion, shouting "blasting off again" as they were hauled away. Meowth, however, had slipped through a storm drain and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He’d thought he was safe, but then animal control had spotted him in the city park. He’d been too tired to fight back as they tossed him into a net and carted him off. That’s how he’d ended up here at Verse City Rodeo’s “Wild Animal Show.” The handler stopped in front of the arena gates, and Meowth snapped back to the present. He could hear the announcer's voice booming through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, cowboys and cowgirls, get ready for the wildest showdown you’ve ever seen! Coming to the arena, it’s the crafty and quick-footed Pokemon… Meowth! But can he outwit our very own Whiplash the cowboy monkey?!” The crowd erupted into cheers, and Meowth’s stomach sank. “Oh, great. A monkey. What’s he gonna do, throw bananas at me?” The handler unlocked the cage and tipped it forward, sending Meowth tumbling out onto the dusty arena. He landed on his feet, of course—he was a cat, after all—but his fur bristled as he looked around. The stands were packed, and all eyes were on him. The gates at the opposite end of the arena opened, and out trotted Whiplash, the cowboy monkey, riding atop a mean looking pony. The monkey wore a miniature cowboy hat and vest, and in his little hand, he held a lasso. Whiplash tipped his hat to the crowd, earning an enthusiastic roar of approval, before his beady eyes locked onto Meowth. “Wait a minute,” Meowth muttered, holding up his paws. “Let’s not do anythin’ hasty here, pal. We can talk this out, right?” But Whiplash wasn’t interested in talking. With a high-pitched whoop, the monkey spurred his pony into action, charging straight toward Meowth with the lasso spinning above his head. “Aw, come on!” Meowth yowled, bolting in the opposite direction. The pony’s hooves thundered across the dirt as Whiplash closed the gap, the lasso whirling faster. “Alright, fine! If it’s a fight ya want, it’s a fight ya gonna get!” Meowth growled, his claws extending as he crouched, ready to pounce. “Bring it on, Monkey Boy!” Meowth hissed. Whiplash bared his teeth, spinning the lasso before lunging toward Meowth. The crowd erupted as the two collided. ____________________________ Meowth vs Whiplash the cowboy monkey. Meowth is as he in the Pokemon Anime. Whiplash is in his prime and riding a Pony instead of his usual dog. He has complete control over the pony, as he is an expert rider. Whiplash as all the usual equipment a bull rider would have. Whiplash wins if he can hogtie Meowth. Meowth wins if he can make Whiplash submit, or escape the arena.

Does this mean either me or Culwych will advance instead of both of us advancing? I know it originally said the two highest would move forward.

Cheers to you, my man! Hope your 2025 is spectacular.

Love the lore of your universe and stepping back into Vin and Galen's life. I love their little family. Great writing and the fight feels natural to the narrative. I think this is one of those instances where the hero loses in round one though. Vin has what it takes to keep Vader at bay, even overwhelm him a little. But I think Vader's rage will get better of her and she'll either be defeated or be forced to flea. Sorry to say Vin, but Vader might have this.

Oh damn, Leroy is dead! Damn, I remember him from the start of this Megastory. Totally in Kir's character to do this though, so good characterization. I'll give this one to Bolin. He is tougher than people get him credit. And he is pissed? Sorry Kir.

If the Normandy team has pick of any of their members, then I'd say they have this in the bag. Destroying a mothership isn't entirely new to them or out of the question. They may lose a member or two, but I think they manage the mission. Nice continuation of the story.

Sorry I missed this one, because it was truly remarkable. Well done, I really enjoyed reading this. And yeah, Dash winning is no surprise.

For Deep One context - https://vsbattles.fandom.com/wiki/Deep_Ones Also, for those wondering, I've done a few of these in the past. Not necessarily a continuation, but in the same "universe". If you like this, I can link the others.

FADE IN: INT. THE CBUB STUDIOS (FORMERLY KNOWN AS ELECTRIC FERRET STUDIOS) – SIMULATION FLOOR – NIGHT We open on an office floor, dimly lit and strewn with wires. EF Studios' cubicle offices appear barren save for the few employees lingering, finishing up their tasks, staring into their screens as the clock approaches midnight. A flickering neon sign on the wall hums "Innovation, but Barely." Camera pans across the floor. SSJRUSS leans back in his chair, finishing the last sip of a lukewarm Monster Energy Drink. The can crumples slightly in his grip. He tosses it toward the overflowing trash can but misses. JOHNNYCHANY is at his desk, head propped in his palm, rhythmically presses the same key on his keyboard. The clacking sound blends with the faint hum of the computers. DSKILLZ sits slouched, crumpling another piece of paper before tossing it at the trash can. It lands perfectly on top of the mountain of discarded sheets. They all wear matching expressions: exhausted, overworked, and slightly dead inside. Dark circles surround their eyes like signs of unpaid overtime. SSJRUSS: (Breaking the silence, staring at the trash can while speaking to the group) Do you think we’ve officially hit rock bottom or are we still in the free fall? DSKILLZ: (Without looking up, monotone) Free fall. Rock bottom would mean we’ve stopped moving. JOHNNYCHANY: (Spinning around in his chair, desperation in his voice) Rock bottom... Maybe we run a simulation with The Rock? SSJRUSS: I think he goes by Dwayne now. Also COVID killed his career, so he's not really relevant anymore. JOHNNYCHANY: (He turns back around in his chair, defeated) Damn. I forgot he was a real guy. Why is this so hard? DSKILLZ: Maybe we'll meet quota during the free fall? Hit terminal velocity and strike genius. Or something. SSJRUSS: (Chuckling tiredly) Pretty sure we hit terminal velocity when the company changed its name to CBUB Studios. JOHNNYCHANY: (Smirking faintly) Creatively Bankrupt Under Budget. Nice. The camera zooms out slightly to reveal a nearly empty coffee pot on the break room counter. A single stale donut sits on a napkin nearby. It’s been there for hours, untouched. Suddenly, the hum of the neon sign cuts out, plunging the floor into an even more oppressive office. DSKILLZ: (Glancing at the sign) There it goes again. That thing’s on its last leg. SSJRUSS: (Grinning faintly) Pretty sure it’s just following company policy—dying slowly. JOHNNYCHANY: (Suddenly straightens up as his computer emits a soft chime. He squints at his monitor) Hey, you guys... SSJRUSS: Yeah? JOHNNYCHANY: (Typing rapidly, brow furrowing) The system flagged something as “Unresolved Conflict.” DSKILLZ: (Turning his chair toward JohnnyChany) That’s weird, we haven't run anything in hours. What is the sim? JohnnyChany's face is bathed in the cold glow of his monitor. SSJRuss and DSkillz lean in, mild curiosity replacing some of their boredom. JOHNNYCHANY: (Reading from the screen) "Tarzan vs. Deep Ones. Status: Unresolved Conflict. Last active... six hours ago?" SSJRUSS: (Scratching his head) I thought we shut that one down. DSKILLZ: (Spinning in his chair, arms crossed) We did. Maybe the system's just being weird again. JOHNNYCHANY: I don't know. It says IKA made parameter changes, but then it gave an error code. Looks like he tried to remove it, but the system hasn't taken the hint. SSJRUSS: (Raising an eyebrow) What kind of changes did IKA make? JohnnyChany clicks a few more times and freezes. JOHNNYCHANY: (Deadpan) Seventeen instance of explosions, a shark... The camera quickly pans over to the elevator door connected to the Simulation Floor. It opens, the elevator ding echoing through the room. IKA, their new CEO, steps out wearing a shirt with "Work Harder, Not Smarter" in bold letters on the front. He gives the vibe of someone who negotiates corporate margins and backyard wrestling matches. He has a tablet tucked under his arm and his face screams frustration. IKA: (Walking toward the group, shaking his head) Alright, what’s the hold-up? I saw the unresolved conflict flag from my office. Why isn’t haven't you fixed it? SSJRUSS: (Gesturing to JohnnyChany’s screen) We were about to ask you the same thing. Why did you add seventeen explosions to a jungle simulation? IKA: (Pulling up the simulation logs on his tablet) You’re focusing on the wrong part. The explosions were for dramatic flair. I’m more concerned about why it’s still running. DSKILLZ: (Leaning back in his chair, smirking) Maybe the system’s protesting your flair. JOHNNYCHANY: (Deadpan) Or maybe it’s the shark you added to the jungle. IKA: (Casually shrugging, eyes still on the tablet) It’s a freshwater shark, but our system should be able to handle that. The monitors flicker violently. The overhead lights dim, then surge back to life. A deep, ominous hum echoes, vibrating the desks. JOHNNYCHANY: (Typing furiously) Uh, guys? The sim is escalating. SSJRUSS: (Frowning) What does that even mean? JOHNNYCHANY: Uh, guys? The sim is downloading our entire database files. I'm getting endless pop-ups. IKA: (Scrolling on the tablet) The parameters keep changing. Wait, no, it's frozen now on flash flood. The hum crescendos, and suddenly, every monitor flashes red with the words: SIMULATION BREACH IMMINENT. JOHNNYCHANY: (Backing away from his desk) Well that can't be good. The elevator dings again. The doors slide open, releasing an unrelenting torrent of water from of the elevator shaft, sweeping across the floor with a deafening crash. IKA: (Shouting over the noise, holding onto a cubicle wall) Okay, I might have overdone the flash flood parameters! SSJRUSS: (Climbing onto his desk as water rushes past) You think?! The camera looks overhead as the floodwater rises rapidly, carrying desks, chairs, and discarded office supplies like debris in a river. The employees scramble to find higher ground as the entire floor transforms into a half-submerged jungle. The roar of water is joined by guttural growls. From the floodwaters, Deep Ones emerge, their glowing eyes locking onto the helpless employees. DSKILLZ: (Climbing onto a filing cabinet) Deep Ones, huh? I knew this job was going to kill me. SSJRUSS: (Grabbing a rolling chair for balance) If it makes you feel better, you’re probably not getting a bad performance review this quarter. One of the Deep Ones lunges at a floating desk, ripping it apart. Papers scatter into the flood, and the creature lets out a roar that was certainly not human. JOHNNYCHANY: (Panicking, gripping a keyboard like a weapon) We need a plan! Someone call Fox! IKA: (Balancing precariously on a cubicle wall, unbothered) Fox quit the minute I became acting CEO. Said something about “unreasonable liability.” The camera pans to Tarzan, perched atop an overturned bookshelf. His silhouette cuts an imposing figure against the flickering lights and chaos. He surveys the room like a predator, knife gleaming in one hand and a bazooka in the other. SSJRUSS: (Pointing at Tarzan) Wait. Is that Tarzan with a bazooka? IKA: (Grinning smugly) And this is why I added the flair. Tarzan swings down on a makeshift vine (where did that come from???) and lands between the employees and the seven Deep Ones standing before them, hungry and wild. TARZAN: (To the employees) Stay behind me. These creatures are relentless. DSKILLZ (Clutching his stapler) I hope you're on speaking terms with some crocodiles. JOHNNYCHANY: (Panicking) We’re going to die. We’re going to die in the dumbest way possible. A Deep One charges toward the group, its claws slicing through the air. Tarzan sidesteps gracefully countering with his loaded bazooka. IKA: (Pulling out his phone, filming) This is going viral. Guaranteed. FADE OUT: So this is Tarzan (with a knife and loaded bazooka (one round)) versus seven inhumanly strong, hungry Deep Ones. Tarzan must kill all the Deep Ones and help the employees escape to win this match.

The Grand Hunt Round TWO Capture or Kill the Target: (Emperor Kuzco) The taste of steel and sweat still lingered on Beowulf’s tongue as he emerged victorious from the first challenge. The castle he had conquered felt abruptly distant, lost behind a veil of shimmering sorcery. One moment, he stood amidst the broken forms of vanquished foes, the clang of swords and shriek of magic still ringing in his ears, and the next, he was blinded by a sudden flash of light. When his vision cleared, Beowulf found himself surrounded by sights that boggled his seasoned warrior’s mind. Gone were the grim walls of the fortress he had seized. Instead, he stood in a wide courtyard paved with polished stones, where vibrant colors were splashed about like dye thrown by careless hands. Towering columns of carved stone soared skyward. Brightly woven tapestries hung from tall balconies, and the scent of unfamiliar spices and flowers drifted on a gentle breeze. He was inside a palace. The ceilings were high and peaked; decorative llama motifs danced along golden friezes; and every corner bursting of wealth. Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, narrowed his eyes. The enchantment that had brought him here could place him in any sort of realm, it seemed. If the Commissioner’s first challenge had tested his blade against cunning and numbers, this second round might test something else entirely. He had never tasted the fruit of a new realm, yet he knew better than to underestimate appearances. He took a step forward, heavy boots echoing against the stone floor. Then he noticed guards had begun to gather around him. They wore bright tunics and carried slender spears and bronze-tipped staves. Unlike the kobolds who swarmed in vicious packs, these men stood tall and disciplined, with more than wariness in their eyes. They seemed uncertain what to make of this stranger who had suddenly appeared in their emperor’s home. Beowulf’s hand drifted toward Hrunting’s hilt. It had tasted kobold blood not long ago, and he doubted it would take issue with humans. Still, it would be wise to gauge this place. His target was the emperor. Dead or alive, that is all he needed to move to the next challenge. He glimpsed an open-air chamber beyond, where a throne sat elevated atop a small flight of steps. On that throne lounged a figure draped in fine robes of red and gold, an ornate headdress on his head. The man wore a smug grin that seemed to say he owned the world. This must be Kuzco. The target. The faintest smile touched Beowulf’s lips. He had crossed seas and slain monsters. He had broken the backs of fiends whose names would live in fearful memory for ages. Now he would stand before a ruler who dared lounge in comfort. Kuzco snapped his fingers, the sound echoing with impatience. More guards poured in from side entrances. They had the advantage of numbers, but none could miss the feral strength in Beowulf. For a moment, no one spoke. The breeze kicked up a bit of dust along the polished floor, and the distant sound of trickling water from a distant garden fountain. Beowulf measured the guards, noting how they formed ranks, how they gripped their weapons. He studied Kuzco, whose raised brow and easy smirk suggested he thought this a mere inconvenience, rather than a threat to his life. Beowulf’s voice rumbled low in his throat, breaking the silence. “You must be the one I’ve been sent to find,” he said. His words were blunt. “My last opponents did not seem a challenge. I wonder, will you fight or flee?” His gaze flicked to the guards. “Or perhaps these men will fight and die in your place?” At that, Kuzco shifted slightly on his throne, crossing one leg over the other with casual arrogance. The guards tensed, their knuckles whitening around spear hafts. Beowulf’s hand tightened on Hrunting. One order, a sudden move and the stillness would shatter into violence. Beowulf felt the tension coil in his muscles. He was a heartbeat away from clashing steel with this new host of foes. They would give their lives to protect their emperor. "So be it," Beowulf struck, killing the first guard in his way. _____________________________________________________ Beowulf must defeat the guards and kill or capture Kuzco to win the challenge. (30 guards with access to spears, shields, swords, and bow and arrows) (Beowulf has his swords Hrunting and Naegling)

QUEST FOR THE DARK GRIMOIRE PART THREE Frankenstein's monster lunged with its massive fists, smashing into the stone floor where Sir Daniel had stood just a moment before. The impact sent a shockwave through the chamber, scattering debris. "Did he just quake punch the ground?!" Gex yelled, scrambling behind a crumbled column. "That’s cheating! This isn’t a video game!" Dan darted in with a shield bash that staggered the monster just enough for him to slash at its torso. Sparks flew as his enchanted sword met the dark energy coursing through the creature. Frankenstein's Monster growled in rage, swatting at Dan with a backhand. The knight raised his shield, but the force of the blow sent him crashing into a pillar. "Yikes," Gex muttered, watching Dan recover slowly. "I best start pulling my weight. Okay, big guy, time to eat lead!" The gecko darted out from cover, and pulled a tommy gun from thin air. The monster turned in shock as Gex unloaded round after round into the beast's chest. Frankenstein’s Monster roared, shielding himself from the onslaught. Sparks flew as Gex’s bullets ricocheted off the beast’s tougher patches, but the rapid fire was enough to force it back a step. "Ha! How’s that for some ‘leadership?’" Gex quipped, reloading his tommy gun with a snap of his tail. Sir Dan, recovering to his feet, surged forward, sword gleaming as he drove it into the creature’s back. The monster let out a pained bellow but remained upright as Gex fired his tommy gun again. Frankenstein’s Monster stumbled under the relentless assault, its growls turning guttural and ragged. The dark energy coursing through its body flickered like a failing lightbulb, but it still refused to fall. With desperation, it slammed both fists into the ground, sending another shockwave through the chamber. Dan's sword fell to the ground as he was knocked off his feet, landing in a pile of rubble. Gex skidded backward, his tommy gun clattering to the ground. "I hate it when they spam the same move!" Gex muttered, as he shook the dust from his face. The monster turned toward Dan, who scrambled to his feet ready to fight, but quickly realized he was without his sword. The monster charged, shoulder bashing Dan into chamber wall. Pieces of stone fell around him as he slumped to the ground. His shield clattered beside him, his bony fingers scrambled for something to defend himself. The monster continued his assault, throwing fist after fist into Dan's skull. "Okay, this guy’s really playing for keeps!" Gex yelled, back on his feet and launching himself at the monster. "It's tail time!" He shouted, whipping his tail into the side of the monster's face. With the monster knocked aside, Gex helped Sir Daniel to his feet. "Thank me, later." Dan stood straight, cracking his old bones then picked up his shield and sword, giving Gex a nod. Frankenstein's Monster got to his feet as well, his eyes radiating dark energy. The monster swung wildly, trying to catch either combatant, but Dan’s shield deflected one massive fist, and Gex’s blocked another while in a kung fu stance. "Okay, teamwork! Who knew?" Gex called out as he tail whipped the monster again, knocking him back a few feet away. Dan saw his opening. With a battle cry that was more of a guttural mumble, he planted his shield into the ground, using it as a launchpad to propel himself forward. His sword struck true, plunging into the monster’s chest and unleashing a burst of dark energy. The monster staggered, its dark veins pulsing violently as it clawed at the sword in its torso. A wave of energy pulsed through the chamber, then in a flash, the monster fell, burnt out from the inside. Dead. Gex dusted himself off and sauntered over to the fallen beast, nudging it with his foot. "Looks like patchwork Pete is outta commission. Nice teamwork, champ." Dan wiped imaginary sweat from his nonexistent brow and sheathed his sword. "You… miserable wretches!" a voice echoed from behind. A figure emerged from the shadows, clutched tightly in trembling hands was the Dark Grimoire. It was none other than Dr. Victor Frankenstein. "You think you’ve won? Destroying my masterpiece, my creation! You have no idea what you’ve just done!" Dan raised his sword, readying himself for another fight, but Gex held up a hand. "Hold on, Bones. Let’s hear the crazy guy out. This feels like a monologue moment." Frankenstein ignored the quip, his focus entirely on the Dark Grimoire. "This book—this gift—has shown me wonders beyond imagining. Worlds teeming with life, ripe for my experiments. Do you understand the power I hold? I am no longer confined to this realm!" "Cool speech," Gex quipped, leaning casually against the slab. "Terrible writing though. You should workshop it." Frankenstein ignored him, his grip on the book tightening. "You dare mock me? Then you will see what it means to challenge a god!" With a flick of his wrist, Frankenstein unleashed a wave of dark energy from the Grimoire. The air around Dan and Gex began to ripple, the walls of the chamber warping and distorting as though reality itself were unraveling. "Uh, Dan?" Gex said. "I think we broke him. And also the space-time continuum." With a final, guttural shout, Frankenstein unleashed a wave of dark energy from the Grimoire. Dan and Gex were caught in the blast, the force lifting them off their feet and hurling them into the tear in reality behind them. As they tumbled through the kaleidoscope of distorted colors and shapes, Gex clutched his tail and groaned. "Why is it always portals?!" ______________________________________________________________ Dan and Gex landed with a thud on soft, patchwork ground. Around them, the world was a vibrant yet chaotic collage of fabric, buttons, and cardboard. Gex sat up, rubbing his head. "Well, this is… whimsical. Looks like we’ve crash-landed in a Pinterest board." Dan picked himself up, brushing stray threads off his armor. His single eye scanned the surroundings, taking in the cheerful but oddly eerie atmosphere. He mumbled something that sounded like, "Where are we?" "Well," Gex said, "It's either LittleBigPlanet, LittleBigPlanet 2, or... LittleBigPlanet 3." Sir Daniel eyed Gex with confusion. Gex shrugged, "You're right, not a big difference. Could be Knack, though..." Before they could gather their bearings, a small figure emerged from behind a nearby spool of thread. Sackboy, his button eyes wide with curiosity, approached cautiously, holding a pair of knitting needles like makeshift weapons. "Aw, look at this guy!" Gex said, crouching down to Sackboy’s level. "You’re like a little mascot come to life. Adorable. Listen, buddy. Any chance you know how to build a portal?" Sackboy tilted his head, then held up a pair of knitting needles. With a sudden movement, he lunged at Gex, swinging his knitting needles like tiny swords. Gex barely dodged the attack, rolling backward. "Whoa! What gives, plushie?!" Gex yelled, his tail snapping into a fighting pose. "I thought we were on the same side!" Dan sighed, raising his sword and standing beside his teammate. "And here we go again."

Love the Megastory and this one is a good entry. I don't know much about the two, but from my quick research I think the Wreckers won't have too much of a problem with the Quantrons, even if they are outnumbered.

Sorry to hear your laptop is slow, I've been having the same issue with my desktop. Funny you say that, I thought about having them debate one another for a bit before coming to blows, but I cut it as it got to be redundant.

Hate to do it to him, but it makes the most sense narratively. And I feel being in his state now, the fight is pretty even.