The best military fantasy isn’t just a bunch of castle sieges and knights hacking at each other (although those are fun). The most interesting books also examine what life in the military actually involves, and what combat can do to a person’s mind.

13. The Red Knight by Miles Cameron - 2012

Book 1 of 5 in The Traitor Son series
Twenty-eight florins a month is a huge price to pay for a man to stand between you and the Wild.
Twenty-eight florins a month is nowhere near enough when a wyvern’s jaws snap shut on your helmet in the hot stink of battle, and the beast starts to rip the head from your shoulders. But if standing and fighting is hard, leading a company of men—or worse, a company of mercenaries—against the smart, deadly creatures of the Wild is even harder.
It takes all the advantages of birth, training, and the luck of the devil to do it.
The Red Knight has all three, he has youth on his side, and he’s determined to turn a profit. So when he hires his company out to protect an Abbess and her nunnery, it’s just another job. The abbey is rich, the nuns are pretty, and the monster preying on them is nothing he can’t deal with.

“Literate, intelligent and well-thought-out…a pleasingly complex and greatly satisfying novel.”
―SFF World

12. The Darkness That Comes Before by R. Scott Bakker - 2003

Book 1 of 3 in The Prince of Nothing series
In a world scarred by an apocalyptic past, evoking a time both two thousand years past and two thousand years into the future, thousands gather for a crusade. Among them, two men and two women are ensnared by a mysterious traveler—part warrior, part philosopher, part sorceress, and a charismatic presence from lands long thought dead.

“[An] impressive, challenging debut, the first of a trilogy… [that will] please those weary of formulaic epic fantasy.”
—Publishers Weekly

11. Deed Of Paksenarrion by Elizabeth Moon - 1988

Book 1 of 2 in the Paksenarrion series
This book contains the first three books of the Paksenarrion series.
Paksenarrion, a simple sheep farmer’s daughter, yearns for a life of adventure and glory, such as was known to heroes in songs and story. At age seventeen she runs away from home to join a mercenary company and begins her epic life . . .
Book One: Paks is trained as a mercenary. She is introduced to the life of a soldier, and to the followers of Gird, the soldier’s god.
Book Two: Paks leaves the Duke’s company to follow the path of Gird alone—and on her lonely quests encounters the other sentient races of her world.
Book Three: Paks the warrior must learn to live with Paks the human. She undertakes a holy quest for a lost elven prince that brings the gods’ wrath down on her and tests her very limits.

“Brilliant . . . the excitement of high heroic adventure . . . will enchant the reader.”
—Bookwatch

10. The Rage of Dragons by Evan Winter - 2017

Book 1 of 2 in The Burning series
The Omehi people have been fighting an unwinnable fight for almost 200 years. Their society has been built around war and only war. The lucky ones are born gifted. One in every 2,000 women has the power to call down dragons. One in every 100 men is able to magically transform himself into a bigger, stronger, faster killing machine. Everyone else is fodder, destined to fight and die in the endless war.
Young, giftless Tau knows all this, but he has a plan of escape. He’s going to get himself injured, get out early, and settle down to marriage, children, and land. Only, he doesn’t get the chance.
Those closest to him are brutally murdered, and his grief swiftly turns to anger. Fixated on revenge, Tau dedicates himself to an unthinkable path. He’ll become the greatest swordsman to ever live, a man willing to die 100,000 times for the chance to kill the three who betrayed him.

“Winter’s stunning debut fantasy epic is rich in complex characters and a well-wrought world with both European and African influences.”
―Publishers Weekly (starred review)

9. The Sword of Kaigen by M. L. Wang - 2019

Born into Kusanagi’s legendary Matsuda family, fourteen-year-old Mamoru has always known his purpose: to master his family’s fighting techniques and defend his homeland. But when an outsider arrives and pulls back the curtain on Kaigen’s alleged age of peace, Mamoru realizes that he might not have much time to become the fighter he was bred to be. Worse, the empire he was bred to defend may stand on a foundation of lies.
Misaki told herself that she left the passions of her youth behind when she married into the Matsuda house. Determined to be a good housewife and mother, she hid away her sword, along with everything from her days as a fighter in a faraway country. But with her growing son asking questions about the outside world, the threat of an impending invasion looming across the sea, and her frigid husband grating on her nerves, Misaki finds the fighter in her clawing its way back to the surface.
When the winds of war reach their peninsula, will the Matsuda family have the strength to defend their empire? Or will they tear each other apart before the true enemies even reach their shores?

“This companion novel to a YA series tells the story of a mother and son caught up in a shadow war… Wang’s novel mixes sci-fi technology with the martial arts lore of East Asia to create a fantasy realm that is intricate and original.”
—Kirkus Review

8. The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson - 2010

Book 1 of 4 in The Stormlight Archive series
Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter.
It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them.
One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable.
Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity.
Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar’s niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan’s motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.

“I loved this book. What else is there to say?”
―Patrick Rothfuss, author of The Name of the Wind

7. Furies of Calderon by Jim Butcher - 2004

Book 1 of 6 in the Furies of Calderon series
For a thousand years, the people of Alera have united against the aggressive and threatening races that inhabit the world, using their unique bond with the furies—elementals of earth, air, fire, water, wood, and metal. But in the remote Calderon Valley, the boy Tavi struggles with his lack of furycrafting. At fifteen, he has no wind fury to help him fly, no fire fury to light his lamps. Yet as the Alerans’ most savage enemy—the Marat horde—return to the Valley, Tavi’s courage and resourcefulness will be a power greater than any fury, one that could turn the tides of war…

“At the start of Butcher’s absorbing fantasy, the barbarians are at the gates of the land of Alera, which has a distinct flavor of the Roman Empire…”
—Publishers Weekly

6. Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson - 1999

Book 1 of 9 in the Malazan Book of the Fallen series
The Malazan Empire simmers with discontent, bled dry by interminable warfare, bitter infighting, and bloody confrontations with ancient and implacable sorcerers. Even the imperial legions, long inured to the bloodshed, yearn for some respite. Yet Empress Laseen’s rule remains absolute, enforced by her dreaded Claw assassins. For Sergeant Whiskeyjack and his squad of Bridgeburners, and for Tattersail, their lone surviving mage, the aftermath of the siege of Pale should have been a time to mourn the many dead. But Darujhistan, last of the Free Cities, yet holds out. It is to this ancient citadel that Laseen turns her predatory gaze.
However, the Empire is not alone in this great game. Sinister, shadow-bound forces are gathering as the gods themselves prepare to play their hand…

“An astounding debut…has the potential to become a defining work.”
—SF Site

5. Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan - 2013

Book 1 of 3 in the Powder Mage series
Field Marshal Tamas’s coup against his king sent corrupt aristocrats to the guillotine and brought bread to the starving. But it also provoked war with the Nine Nations, internal attacks by royalist fanatics, and the greedy to scramble for money and power by Tamas’s supposed allies: the Church, workers unions, and mercenary forces.
Stretched to his limit, Tamas is relying heavily on his few remaining powder mages, including the embittered Taniel, a brilliant marksman who also happens to be his estranged son, and Adamat, a retired police inspector whose loyalty is being tested by blackmail.
Now, as attacks batter them from within and without, the credulous are whispering about omens of death and destruction. Just old peasant legends about the gods waking to walk the earth. No modern educated man believes that sort of thing. But they should…

“McClellan’s debut packs some serious heat…A thoroughly satisfying yarn that should keep readers waiting impatiently for further installments.”
―Kirkus (starred review)

4. The Thousand Names by Django Wexler - 2013

Book 1 of 5 in The Shadow Campaigns series
Captain Marcus d’Ivoire, commander of one of the Vordanai empire’s colonial garrisons, was serving out his days in a sleepy, remote outpost, until a rebellion left him in charge of a demoralized force clinging to a small fortress at the edge of the desert.
To flee from her past, Winter Ihernglass masqueraded as a man and enlisted as a ranker in the Vordanai Colonials, hoping only to avoid notice. But when chance sees her promoted to command, she must lead her men into battle against impossible odds.
Their fate depends on Colonel Janus bet Vhalnich. Under his command, Marcus and Winter feel the tide turning and their allegiance being tested. For Janus’s ambitions extend beyond the battlefield and into the realm of the supernatural—a realm with the power to reshape the known world and change the lives of everyone in its path.

“A spectacular epic fantasy debut.”
—Fantasy Book Critic

3. His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik - 2006

Book 1 of 9 in the Temeraire series
When HMS Reliant captures a French frigate and seizes its precious cargo—an unhatched dragon egg—fate sweeps Capt. Will Laurence from his seafaring life into an uncertain future–and an unexpected kinship with a most extraordinary creature.
Thrust into the rarified world of the Aerial Corps as master of the dragon Temeraire, he will face a crash course in the daring tactics of airborne battle. For as France’s own dragon-borne forces rally to breach British soil in Bonaparte’s boldest gambit, Laurence and Temeraire must soar into their own baptism of fire.

“Terrifically entertaining.”
—Stephen King

2. The Black Company by Glen Cook - 1992

Book 1 of 4 in the Black Company series
Some feel the Lady, newly risen from centuries in thrall, stands between humankind and evil. Some feel she is evil itself. The hard-bitten men of the Black Company take their pay and do what they must, burying their doubts with their dead.

1. World War Z by Max Brooks - 2006

This book is a series of vignettes from people across the world experiencing the Zombie War. There’s no central protagonist, which makes the reading a little more difficult, but makes the whole book feel more real.
I realize putting zombies in a fantasy book list is a bit of a stretch, but it's close enough for me. I also loved the book.
The Zombie War came unthinkably close to eradicating humanity. Max Brooks, driven by the urgency of preserving the acid-etched first-hand experiences of the survivors, traveled across the United States of America and throughout the world, from decimated cities that once teemed with upwards of thirty million souls to the most remote and inhospitable areas of the planet. He recorded the testimony of men, women, and sometimes children who came face-to-face with the living, or at least the undead, hell of that dreadful time. World War Z is the result. Never before have we had access to a document that so powerfully conveys the depth of fear and horror, and also the ineradicable spirit of resistance, that gripped human society through the plague years.

“Will spook you for real.”
—The New York Times Book Review

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20/09/20 - Premier League - Leicester City vs Burnley - Pre-Match Thread

13/09/20 - Premier League - West Brom vs Leicester City - Pre-Match Thread

19/07/20 - Premier League - Tottenham Hotspurs vs Leicester City - Match Thread

11/10/20 - Nations League - England vs Belgium - Pre-Match Thread

I'm a commentator for a tournament of nightmares. The only thing they fear is her.

I strongly suggest you start at the beginning.
If you’re lost and looking for more info, the NFC has provided extra context for background on the fighters.
Where we last left off; “The Hunt Is Over”
-
I’ll be the first to say what I did was unprofessional. I broke protocol, climbed down from my commentary booth amid the sounds of boos and jeers from experts, Zunkle trying to reach for me as I ran the length of the imposing pit and towards my friend.
Before I could make it to her body, however, someone stepped out and shot me a glance that froze me in my tracks.
It was Wendy. Her mask stained in red that trickled down her chin and eyes alight with rage. At this distance, in the same pit where many had already been slaughtered, I felt very much like a man who’d stepped into a tiger pit.
“You have a job to do, Mr. Sabotta. I strongly suggest you get your ass back up to that booth, because things are going to get messy.” She stared up at the empty throne room where Alduin usually sat, calling out to the MIA champ. “Alduin! Bring me Abaddon, now!”
I stared at her for a moment before my body willed me back up to the side of the pit and Zunk graciously yanked me up by the collar, concern wracking his tired face.
“I can’t take you anywhere, can I? Look, there’s time to figure out what happened with Nelle, but we have a job to do. Once this is over, we can discuss next options, kay? Keep it together, Sal.” Before I could even reply, a manic laughter rippled from the throne room and Alduin’s voice boomed out;
“Since she’s not yet passed her semifinal match, let’s give her the next challenger!”
The elevator roared to life as the sound of dozens of footsteps, scratches and incoherent babbling grew in intensity as the elevator reached its destination and came to a screeching halt. As the doors opened and the multitude of eyes, teeth and claws tore at the doors to get out quicker, the lights were switched off and Alduin’s voice tore through the stunned silence.
“BEGIN!”
NFC WILDCARD SEMIFINAL MATCH: “WENDIGO” WENDY HATHALE VS THE TEIHIIHAN
With the lights out and the sole lights coming from my recording equipment and a sea of at least 12 pairs of hungry, ravenous eyes darting around the place, I was unsure I’d be able to accurately provide commentary. After all, seeing and providing context is my job. Still, I persevered.
“Fight fans, I apologise for my lack of professionalism a few moments ago. Being unbiased is a part of the job, but when it’s a dear friend, you struggle to quantify the line between professional and personal. I hope you’ll forgive me and you’ll be thankful to know Zunkle is back to keep me in check. Zunk, we’ve got ourselves our very last semifinal match of the Wildcard Tourney with a power outage! What happens next?”
Zunk stared down at the darkness below before his eyes fell upon the iPod still connected, spying Wendy’s playlist and letting a small grin slip across his face for a moment as he saw the song playing.
“I think what happens next is we see just how far righteous anger can take someone, Sal.”
Sure enough, as soon as he hit play and we directed our attention down to the pit, we could see flashes of brilliant light as these small creatures darted about the place, each looking for an opening in Wendy’s guard to strike. Their bodies were small, nimble, and the ribs exposed as dark brown skin stretched across them like thin paper. Flecks of drool foamed around their mouths and the eyes, bulbous with a sickly yellow, somehow widening when they spied their chance to dive for Wendy.
The realisation hit me and I felt a mixture of horror and disgust wash over me. Looking at the Compendium for guidance only confirmed my suspicions.
Some of these were children.
The Teihiihan were a mixture of warriors that’d fallen in battle, and the others were inexplicably still kids. But the Cheyenne and Arapaho cultures had another title for their dreaded legends, named after the hunger they embodied in their emaciated frames; The Little Cannibals.
Wendy, to her credit, kept her gaze firmly upon the empty throne room and even in the flashes of light we were getting from god knows where, she did not move until they lunged.
Then, she struck.
In a scene as beautiful as it was horrifying, she leaned back while maintaining her stance, allowed the first of these creatures to lunge forward and swiped at its underbelly, spilling the insides across her torso as it flailed on the floor, two of its cohorts rushing over to feed upon it.
The next was no more fortunate than the last, going for her legs as she nodded her head to the beat and brought her leg up at the right time, stamping down on the skull in tandem with the beat until the crunching gave way to a sickening squelch. She did not cease even then, goading the remainder to come forward.
So it went, two would rush forward and both would be caught in midair, hands flailing deftly and screeching as a flash of brilliance highlighted the others tentatively stepping forward as Wendy’s hands grew, claws stuck out and pierced the sides of their skulls, squeezing on the head until a popping sound rang out. Casting them aside, she practically danced as she threw the two corpses to a group on her left, directing her attention to the right as she did so. Ducking down, she darted forward and span her arms around, slicing at anything within her range.
When she was clear to the other side, 6 more gripped their necks, stomachs and eyes as they fall into a heap.
The two that were feeding now directing their blood stained faces towards her as they leapt into the air, mouths open to chew away at her flesh. She responded by simply sticking a fist out and allowing one to chew on her; the latter being swiped mid-air, taking the head clean off. She held this final one up as an example to the crowd, her expression unchanged even when bathed in this light.
“Do you like hurting other people?” She asked, seemingly to nobody as the main spotlight began to flicker to life, intermixing with the deep purple. She tensed her arm, and it grew, the small creature desperately trying to get away, scratching at her forearm in vain with the teeth no longer clamping onto the free skin. In a flash, she ripped the tongue and organs from its mouth, throwing them into the air as she held the remains of the skin and bones, using them as a bat to smash the viscera towards the throne room. Towards Alduin.
There was a splatter, droplets of blood falling down from on high as the crowd cheered the absolute carnage Wendy had left in her wake. She pulled down her mask, and it became obvious where the blood from before the match had come from;
She’d been so fraught with rage that she’d bitten clean through her bottom lip, the blood soaking her chin and the teeth clenched and caked in a dark crimson.
“I do. I will rip and tear everything you put in front of me." She cracked her neck with malice as the song began to fade.
“Give. Me. Abaddon. NOW.”
-
As the clean-up crew worked around an indignant Wendy, I began my end-match spiel. But something felt off, both in how I felt and the surrounding atmosphere. It was the same as that perpetual moment of losing your balance and falling, but stretched out to impossible lengths. A sense of dread washed over me, seeping into my bones and gripping me with the same fear I felt back in the cafeteria.
“This is how it always goes, you know. There’s always a struggle, there’s always a goal, and there is always…”
Hand’s grip on my throat and squeeze, my chest burning and arms refusing to fight back, fingers tensed and toes curled in protest, but I could not break away. I could feel my eyes bulging as the world started to fade.
“A great loss.”
Flashes of moments I’d never experienced once again flooding my mind; a thick underbrush with a younger Nelle, a bar with hooded figures, a manor house with a monstrous skeletal hulking mass out the window, a flight over the seas of the dead with innumerable figures rushing through the seats to reach for me, a hotel with floor after floor of incomprehensible terror… and then, an isolation room.
Looking around, it was pure white, a basic bed and toilet with nothing else to focus on. A straight-jacket wrapped around my body and as I turned, I saw someone peering through the slit in the door at me. Two pairs of eyes, to be exact. One upside down, a thick mono brow stretching across their forehead and curling into a shape on their forehead, eyes wide and bloodshot, their hands and feet tapping at the frame of the door impatiently. The pair that were right side up were half open, milky white and gazing around the room.
“You have repeated this tale so many times and it ends the same. We have tried guiding you, whispering in your ear and pointing you in the right direction. But it seems a more… direct approach is necessary. We see many forks in the road and paths to take. We can only point you to the right one.” The voice below called out after repeated tapping from the one above. “She… WE feel that you will not understand without our direct invention. Our goal is to end the cycle, to put a stop to the violence. At any costs.”
My head swirls, I feel the need to wrench my arms free, but I’m unable to do so. I simply stare ahead and ask what comes to mind without thinking.
“Why can’t that one tell me? What does this mean? How the fuck did you put me here when I was JUST in the pit?” I was growing frustrated, the fear ever-present, but my fight or flight instinct kicking in. She sighs and the tapping resumes as furtive eyes above burn with anger.
“She cannot speak. Clodagh sees what I don’t, but hears what I, Moirah, cannot. We are two of three sisters that are tasked with ensuring you go on the right path, as all things should. SO many have died because of your conflict, and we cannot abide it. You are a part of something that has existed in a balance for aeons, and it is up to us to end the cycle. We brought you here to help you remember, to help you act. As for the pit…” She clicked her fingers and one of my arm restraints grew loose. As I moved it, she beckoned me closer, and the air trembled around the door as I took each step, offering out a hand through the slit that, despite my better instincts, I walked towards it and took it. The second I got into range, she gripped me tightly. Her brown skin starting to tinge an ugly puce, the veins coming to the surface and pumping rhythmically with the beating on the door as Clodagh began smashing her skull against the metal frame. I could hear something muffled in the distance, the beat of a drum.
Flashes of images flooded my mind as I saw the visages of my friends laying dead at my feet; Rex, Landry, Zunkle, Nelle… Nora. All laying at the feet of Alduin and Abaddon, both laughing in utter madness, hands soaked in the blood and guts of every competitor. Everyone I loved. Overhead hung a black sun, the dazzling glow casting both of these beasts in an unholy glow.
“You never left. We just needed you to reach out and set the next reaction to an action, through a little divine intervention. Music is something that transcends time, space and reality, it holds within it so many emotions and ties that cannot be broken. Some embolden the weak and others decimate the strong. We’re most curious to see what this one will do…”
The visage of these two women in front of me flickers in and out, like a television losing signal. Before I realise anything was wrong, I’m sat back in the booth and my hand is outstretched onto the next song and Zunkle is staring at me quizzically, ready to switch the volume dial back to an even number.
Sure enough, the screaming of locusts joins the music as a weathered Abaddon glides from the dug-out, still holding at his skull where the jagged wound sits, decidedly less of his locust swarm with him as exposed bone and scratch marks are visible from his previous battle.
Alduin walked back to the throne room, cape wrapped around her and arms folded as she grinned.
“You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention, Wendigo Wendy. Its looks like we’ve already reached the end of The Wildcard Tournament! Only two remain and the winner will meet Eustace De Kolta & Nora Zayne in the Openweight Grand Prix Finals. I’m excited to see who has the balls to do what needs to be done, who among ya is ready?!” She screams into the mic, the crowd cheering. Some for Abaddon, a lot for Wendy, who had by this point hunched down onto all-fours and kept her eyes locked on a stoic Abaddon.
“I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I just don’t want to lose another friend to a fucking animal like this, to a tournament that pits unwitting contestants against creatures in a game they KNOW they’ll lose. I’ll take him out before he can go any further. And then… I’m coming for you, bitch.”
Alduin chuckled and threw her hand in the air to signal the start of the bout.
“BEGIN!”
NFC WILDCARD FINALS: “WENDIGO” WENDY HATHALE VS NFC ABYSS CHAMPION ABADDON THE DESTROYER
Perhaps it was the fear of losing respect from the crowd. Maybe it was a desire to finish things quickly and heal up, but Abaddon did not hesitate to rush forward. Throwing his locusts in front of him like a thick cloud, this was the first time his entire frame was visible for all to see. A thick metallic plate covered his lower half, inscriptions littering the sides and a black belt holding it together, two small holsters for his swords on either side. He was nimble, so much so that within just a few seconds he was behind Wendy and striking her with a blow to the back of the skull, the force sending her flying across the pit. The locusts were waiting for her body to drop, picking her back up and holding her in place as Abaddon ran in for another strike.
“A stunning start to what we could argue is both the finals AND a grudge match! Wendigo Wendy showcasing how much this fight means to her personally as well as the desire to take on our queen of the NFC. But as Abaddon has shown us in his last fight, he is the Abyss Champion for a reason. What do you think will happen next, Zunk?”
Zunkle leaned back in his chair and pulled some food out of his bag, a piping hot Stromboli that he took a hearty bite out of. I stared for a moment at his lackadaisical approach, waiting for him to finish.
“I think we’ve only just begun to see the violent delights this tourney has. And seeing all this competition, this bloodshed… it’s making me hungry. Not just for food, but for my own shot in that pit. I’ll tell you one thing though; Abaddon is making a grave mistake rushing forward.”
Looking down, Abaddon connected once again with Wendy. This time a kick to the side of the neck that drove her into the side of the pit with a sickening thud.
“You are mortal here, Wendy. You cannot rely on those gifts from your own home. For here, you are nothing more than another nightmare in my division to be conquered. I have my own desires for this tournament that cannot be stopped or interfered with and rest assured; I will take as many of yours or HIS friends as I need to in order to get there.” He shot a glance at me and for that moment, my hairs stood on end. Even just having him gaze at me sent me into a panic.
“Well, you’re unfortunately going to have a tough night, Abaddon.” Wendy coughed, pushing herself up and cracking her neck, bruises and cuts all over her body. “Because now I know what you are, where you come from and my role in all this, I can’t let you progress any further.”
Abaddon cocked his head to the side, and the locusts returned, forming around his arms as he began to pull at his swords. Both of them. Where the shimmering black was familiar, the sickly bright white of the alternative blade was a new kind of horrifying; faces etched in permanent suffering rippled across its fine steel and a soft moan lashed out as he swiped it through the air, crossing both blades in front of him.
“You are a bold and arrogant one, child. But I have seen where your path began and I know what you are, where you came from and what you did. You were powerless to stop death then, and you are no different here.”
He began inching forward, careful not to dash into her guard. Wendy stretched back and for the first time in a long time; she smiled.
“Y’know, back where I’m from, in the Hotel... We have this guy Sigurd Jónsson, but we call him “Ros”, he’s a total music head. Arrogant, rash and full of the worst jokes you’ll ever hear. He saved me from a cycle of violence in my own community, bringing me into his without even realising it. He didn’t make it out of there, at least... not in the way we wanted him to. But that's because he made a choice to stand and protect the things he knew were important, even if his dumb brave ass didn’t realise it at the time.” She flexed her fingers, and the joints grew with the nails, looking down at them with curiosity and melancholy.
Abaddon inched closer. He was almost in range.
“I guess we're pretty similar, in the end. That's why he's a brother to me. But, there’s one big difference between him and I.” Abaddon lunged and slashed with the swords. A horrid groan left the white sword as it hit nothing but air. Wendy leapt into the air and landed on Abaddon’s shoulders, hand tensed like a spider ready to bite.
“I’m not bound by that cycle anymore and that means I will do ANYTHING to pull him from it.”
She drove her hand into the wound on Abaddon’s skull, and immediately the atmosphere changed. There were no screams. There was no time. The locusts stood in place, silent and paralysed as Abaddon mirrored them. She stood there for a moment before releasing her hand, covered in a thick tar-like substance and jumped down, throwing her fist into the air to uproarious cheers. Alduin jumped down, clapping slowly and mic in hand.
“Well, I’ll be… the kid’s got skill. I live only for the best competition and you just proved exactly why this is the best fuckin’ tournament out there. You’re in the finals, kid. Good luck…” Alduin’s eye flashed, and she looked past Wendy to the sight of Eustace De Kolta sauntering into the centre of the pit to greet her, Nora standing at the foot of the dugout, one leg raised and arms folded, watching.
“A pleasure to watch, despite your… maladies.” He extended a hand that Wendy reluctantly took before he raised it into the air to louder cheers. “I’ll be taking him for now, wouldn’t want him interfering in our bout, would we?”
In a moment both relieving and horrifying, Eustace clapped his hands and laid the satchel down as his first pet from the opening round crawled out; the devourer. It reached for the still frozen body of Abaddon and as soon as its pale fingers had a solid grip on him, it ripped him from where he stood and dragged him into the satchel, locusts and all.
Alduin, to her credit, laughed heartily.
“And there’s our second finalist, The Nightmare Catcher Eustace De Kolta! Now adding the Abyss Champion to his repertoire, though I don’t think he’ll be able to hold him for long, he still has a near endless supply of horrors in that satchel!” She cast her eyes to the dug-out and as soon as Nora saw her, she walked forward. Perhaps determined not to let Alduin get even a moral high ground on her, let alone a physical one. “And lest we forget our third and last but by no means least competitor in the finals. Someone I’m sure will do great things… Nora Fucking Zayne!”
As the crowd cheered and confetti rained down, the computer screen held up a timer once more to signal the interval. Zunkle got to his feet and with eyes focused on the ground, thanked me profusely, his enthusiasm causing his voice to raise slightly louder than he intended.
“Sorry, sorry. Got a… lot on my mind, y’know? The NFC granted my match with Malphas and… well, I better get ready. But Sal, don’t judge me for what you see down there, okay? I may be Zunkle now, but I’ll always be The Jersey Devil, I hope when you call the fight, you give it everything you've got. Because I sure as hell will.” He patted me on the shoulder before heading off as Alduin finished her announcements.
“3 hours time, we will crown the NFC OpenWeight Grand Prix Winner and the next contender to my title, betting odds and food are open now. See you soon!”
Eustace chuckled as he let Wendy’s hand go and began walking back, a bitterness to his voice.
“It’s a shame we have to do this, if you weren’t what you are, I think we’d be friends. But given your showing here, it’s clear that you’re no different to the rest of the division… to what my family dealt with before.”
“Oh yeah? How d’you figure that, David Blaine?” She snarked, folding her arms and wincing from her wounds. He stopped and held up a hand as he circled around, a concerned look on his face intermixed with an uncontrollable excitement that I could sense even from here. Though I knew I had to rush to the infirmary and more uncertainty gripped me now than it had done when I stepped through those doors, I also knew that the finals were going to be the bloodiest of them all.
“Because after that showing, I sense there’s a changing of the guard. One that would send a dangerous message to the far-reaches of all worlds." He slings his satchel over his back and as I make my way to see my friends, those last words ring in my ears and once again bring forth the mentions of the cycle those strange women whispered into my ears;
"The only thing the NFC fears now… is you.”

14/10/20 - Nations League - England vs Denmark - Pre-Match Thread

03/10/20 - Pro League/Eerste klasse A - OH Leuven vs Zulte Waregem - Pre-Match Thread

Frozen Homes Pt 35: A Spiky Boi

Saturday Release!

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Thanks for taking the time to read the story, Hope you enjoy it.

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Commander Soto slammed himself into the wall, dodging a few beams of that ugly laser fire the enemy combatants used. With their weapons unlocked and the idea of prisoners abandoned, the way towards the bridge had been much more manageable. Not to mention the Aasteran soldiers seemed eerily excited to be killing these alien slavers.
Watching from his cover as Ranarus charged an enemy encampment with nothing but his shield and grav sword. His eyes widened in amusement as the soldier jumped over a metal barricade and proceeded to tear apart the enemy. Going so far as to skewer two of the aliens with his tail, as he slashed into another three with his sword. "Guess that explains the tail spikes they have."
Soto walked down the corridor, lazily holding his shield in front of him as he stalked towards the encampment, contemplating whether to kill the remaining slaver or capture it. Thankfully, his decision was made for him as an Aasteran soldier furiously charged forward, bellowing a primal war cry. Aggressively stomping his right foot and thrusting his tail through the alien, Soto just nodded and looked to his side. "You guys really love doing that." He commented to the nearest Aasteran, who just shrugged and moved on.
Ranarus walked up beside Commander Soto and waved it off. "We have a lot of pent up rage against these things."
"Hey, I get it. You guys can finally avenge your ancestors, right?" Soto replied, looking at his tac map.
"More like my people, these things caused us much suffering. To see them use whatever these diamonds are as some living battery. It tells me more about this civilisation than I would like to know." Looking at the stolen cart carefully filled with the silicon bodies. Ranarus's anger once again boiled. "We can't even tell if they're still alive, they're so weak."
"BRACE!"
Ranarus leaned against the wall as the ship violently shook, looking at his team report to ensure that none of his party was injured as he gathered his footing. " What was that?"
Commander Soto looked over to the cart then back to Ranarus. "Team six took out the weapons storage in the fighter hangar. Well, what they consider a fighter. We have civilian ships with more armour and shielding on them." Motioning for the group to reform, Commander Soto began following his tac map towards the assumed bridge located middle of the ship.
Taking point with his shield and grav mace, Soto began following his map points, making sure to keep his team behind him before being pushed aside by Ranarus and his team as they stalked forward ahead of the Terrans. Looking back at his team, Soto decided to take a back seat to the action, figuring he would leave most of the killing to his new allies. They seemed to be pretty good at it and almost needed to get some vengeance out of their system even if he would eventually get in trouble for it.
"Hey, there's some atmosphere on the other side of this door!" A marine shouted.
Quickly moving over to his scanner tech, Soto looked at the readout and waved at Ranarus, who happened to be busy pulling one of his men off a mutilated body. "Hey, uh, I'm pretty sure what you're going to say. But, did your people have anything with a bio scan similar to this on your planet?"
Ranarus looked at the scan in confusion. "Nope, I've never seen blood like that before. I don't even know what kind of metal that blood contains."
Soto scrunched his face and waved the entire boarding group over. "Ok, we got some bio signs in this room, oxygen breathers, not these vacuum fucks. Scanners indicate that they're hurt, we think. The plan, we set up a shield to keep the air in, blow open the door, rush in and subdue the bio signs if they're aggressive. It's looking like we won't beat team two to the bridge anyway, so let's bag us some captives."
Watching as the team's engineer set up the shield, Soto opened a com so he could listen to the other boarding groups, many of who were venting their anger out on these odd aliens with weapons typically not used inside ships. Thankfully, most of the ship was already under Union control with only the bridge and a few hold outs left, most of which were being utterly decimated by mobile lance batteries.
"Shields up!" Reported his team's engineer.
Watching as the charges were set, Soto and Ranarus moved up to take point. "Ready pal?" Commander Soto asked, already knowing the response.
Ranarus looked at the rest of his team before back to the commander. "I was born to kill my people's enemies, not capture them. I will follow your lead."
Soto chuckled at the unexpected answer. "We'll have to work on that." As the charge countdown hit zero and the door blew open, Soto hefted his shield and charged into the room, looking for his target. "Nothing's here."
Ranarus rushed in and looked towards the location of the bio signs. "No, they're here." Picking up some fallen debris, Ranarus chucked it at a gathering of three spiky masses.
Commander Soto watched as the spiky ball rippled, making off cooing noises before quickly silencing itself. "Is it a porcupine?" Slowly reaching out to touch a quill, his suit began to scream warnings as the point pierced through his armour and into his under mesh. Surprised, he pulled his hand back in shock as the nanites plugged the hole. Soto stared in amazement at the spiky ball as his suit finished up it's complaining. " Holy shit, No way we're cuffing this guy."
"You'd be dead if it's quill were coated in poison, you realise." Looking at the tac com updates, Ranarus deflated as the ship was considered subdued and under Union control. "So, what is it, some pet?"
Waving his teams medic up, Soto looked back at Ranarus and shrugged, "dunno, the doc will figure it out, for now, let's make sure our diamond friends get plenty of light... Feels like I'm talking about a plant."
Watching as the medic waved his hands around and worked his healing magic, Soto was beginning to think he had more bad news heading his way as the doctor started frantically cursing and attempting to get around the quills of the creature. "What's wrong, doc?"
"It's a fucking sentient. It's malnourished and dehydrated though... I think... Its blood is filled with some weird metal that's interfering with my scans. The quills, I think they're quills, something is off about them; they're pumped full of the metal too. Overall thoughts, though... I think those fucks were using this guys blood for something, they're all missing a lot, or just.. don't need a lot compared to both Terran and Aasteran."
Soto palmed his face and let out a low groan. "What kind of sector of the galaxy is this. We spend two thousand years looking for life only to run into cold snakes and fucking cosmic boogeymen slavers, four-armed balls living in vacuum, enslaving everything they come across? I don't think the people back home are going to like any of this. No offence Ranarus, your people are great, but this is bullshit."
Ranarus shook his head and looked at the spiky alien. "None taken, no one asked for any of this."
"Got it! I can give them some anaesthetics until we can get them to a secure med bay. Uh, with your permission, commander. I'm sure they'll make it, but its better safe than sorry with the state they're in."
Commander Soto nodded and looked down at the trio of porcupines. "Do it if you're sure it won't hurt them. I want to make sure they're alive for questioning."
Soto held his breath as he watched the medic pour the medical nanites between the tightly packed quills. Shifting his visual spectrum to get a better look as the quills quivered, as if fighting to stay rigid before completely separating and softening into fine hair. "It's a fucking spiky boy!" Soto shouted.
Ranarus looked at the Terrans curiously as they started making all sorts of soft noises at the alien." What's a spiky boy?"
"It's not a dog! It's a wolf." Replied the medic.
"What kind of wolf is red, its a big ass fox, dumb-ass!" Shouted a marine from the crowd.
"They got red dogs on the Kuacog colony idiot!" Came another.
"You guys do know it's sentient, right? Like a thinking being." Argued the tech.
Regaining himself, commander Soto looked to the medic. "Sedate the other two. I want to make sure these guys get the help they need."
Ranarus look on in confusion as the marines quickly quieted, looking at the trio of aliens. "Something wrong here I should know about?
Finishing up relaying his information to the rest of the boarding teams, commander Soto looked over to Ranarus. "It's good that most of the aliens are dead. But if you find one alive, kill it before a Terran sees it."
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Srettia screamed in horror as Michael skilfully flew through the hull of a wrecked enemy cruiser, a successful gambit at losing the fighter wing that managed to get behind him. " I COULD HAVE DESTROYED THEM YOU, IDIOT!"
Rolling the ship out of the wreckage and manoeuvring to rejoining his bomber wing, Michael grinned and looked over to his terrified passenger. "True, but I felt like having some fun."
"Well, our guest enjoyed itself."
"At least someone's on my side." Michael complained as his bomber wing worked their way towards their target.
Srettia turned to look at the being as it chimed a jaunty tune at her, its arms splayed as if it was on some sort of ride. "We need to name this thing."
"It has its name; we just need to figure out how to communicate. Incoming forty seven mark three, four interceptors are heading towards the bombers."
Srettia turned back to her weapons controls and began to rain anti mater upon the poor ships, chuckling as they broke apart from just the vicinity of the lance fire. "I can get used to this."
"We are approaching our target. I am marking it on the display. Torpedos ready, waiting for wing commander's mark."
Michael frowned as the visual came up, and he saw the swarm of fighters around the massive carrier. "That's a big guy."
"You scared partner?"
Srettia fired off a few shots and laughed. "He's scared. Big bad Terran ace pilot afraid of paper fighters."
"Har, har. Have a good laugh." Pulling a hard turn to avoid a particularly nasty volley, Michael just shook it off and voiced his thoughts. "I'm more worried about why they are bent on protecting that ship. What's in it?"
"Unknown. Fleet command needs it destroyed so Chrarada can take her fleet to secure a captured command ship."
Srettia grinned at the thought of Chrarada screaming as her ship charged its target. "Well, lets clear the way for our beautiful leader, shall we?"
"I did not know you thought her beautiful."
"Well, duh. Her horns are always perfectly polished, and her scales are as glossy as a newborn." Srettia angrily fired some shots into a passing frigate as the squadron pierced the defensive screen and sighed. " It's unfair."
"We're coming up on the target, get ready." Rolling under a cruiser with the squad, Michael snuck a look at Srettia and frowned." How about I pick up some moisturiser and polish for you when we get back to Leda. You can take the evening off to relax and let me pamper you for the night."
Srettia fought to keep her tail still, at the thought. "We shall do that."
"Target in range thirteen seconds, Torpedos ready."
Michael looked at the being who began chiming an oddly deep tune and looked back at the ship. "I don't like this."
"Firing Torpedos."
Michael watched as the bomber squadron unleashed tens of high yield anti-matter torpedos at the massive carrier, observing as they crashed into the hull, ripping it apart and sending pieces splintering through the surrounding vessels, completely breaking the enemy formation. "Invest in better fighters, you idiots."
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"Charge forward! Breakthrough their lines and destroy all who get in our way!" Changing her fleet formation from a three-pointed claw into an arrowhead, Chrarada bought her ship to the front of the tip as her fleet advanced into the hole created by the Terran bomber squadron. "I'll need to request a fleet of those bombers.."
Attempting to keep the emotion off her face as her ship unleashed a vicious broadside into the enemy formation while it crashed through the debris of the massive ship. Chrarada noted that the enemy command ship changed from contested to secure and smirked. " Our males have completed their task, increase speed to secure the target ship, we can't let the enemies destroy it!" Watching as more of the hard light aliens extracted themselves from the debris of the battlefield, Chrarada scoffed in frustration. "What kind of enemy are we fighting."
"Ma'am, the enemy fleet is breaking off, looks like a pretty ugly retreat."
Chrarada slammed her fist against her console in anger. "FIGHT ME, COWARDS!" Looking around at her bridge crew who had similar thoughts, Chrarada took a deep breath to compose herself and fought off the urge to chase after the retreating enemies. "Take up position around the captured ship, destroy what you can in the meanti-."
"Detecting massive energy surge from enemy wreckage!"
"Bring it up on visual." Chrarada watched closely as the carrier wreckage seemed to sparkle for a few moments, lights shimmering in multiple locations before merging into a massive hard light alien, twice no three times the size of her ship. "Ah, I can see why they're running."
Just as the alien finally finished forming into an odd funnel shape, Chrarada felt a cold chill run down her spine and opened a com to her fleet. " ALL POWER TO SHIELDS, NOW! EVERY OUNCE YOU CAN SPARE!"
Just as she finished relaying her commands, Chrarada watched in horror as the alien unleashed a massive beam of energy. One that rushed past her fleet and split into tens of smaller offshoots, shearing ships in half while destroying others. Shaking off her stress, Chrarada opened another com to her fleet in panic. "Stay out of its way. We secure the enemy ship with a tractor and get out of this area, NOW!"
Upon finally reaching her target, Chrarada shuddered as the energy readings on the large alien once again began to spike. " Get a tractor on the ship and leave the area immediately. We don't have time!"
Holding her breath as her fleet activated their tractors and began pulling the enemy ship from the battlefield, Chrarada watched curiously as another beam of light emerged from the alien, shaking her ship as it passed by to its intended targets. "Relay to the fleet command that our mission is complete."
Exhaling in relief, Chrarada authorised docking of the boarding teams into her fleet, tapping her tail angrily as the enemy fleet fled the system.
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Ranarus walked off the boarding ship with his Terran teammates into the familiar sight of an Aasteran hangar bay as emergency personal flooded into the ships. Taking off his helmet Ranarus laughed as the Terrans threw down their own and rubbed their faces and hair. "Smells like home."
Soto walked up beside Ranarus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good job, friend. It looks like some ladies are looking your way." Soto pointed to a section of the hangar where medical personal and armour specialists were waiting. "Any of them catch your eye? Bet you can finally have the luxury of being the one to claim."
Ranarus laughed and pointed at a Cyan female who pushed aside the other females and stalked towards Commander Soto. "Maybe, But I heard you're familiar with that one."
Soto palmed his face as the female approached. "Yeah, She claimed me after a demonstration. She beat the crap out of a green one that tried to challenge her for it or something."
Ranarus watched as the Female captain got up in Soto's face and began marking him with her tongue. "Well, have fun, commander. I hear the fangs are painless."

Soto looked at Ranarus in shock then at the very long tongue rolling around his body. "Ahh fuck it." Ejecting himself out of his armour, Soto effortlessly picked up the cyan female. Walking off happily towards the hangar exit as she clung onto him, ignoring his whooping and cheering team.
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I'm a commentator for a tournament of nightmares. There's more than one horrifying champion in the NFC.

The Exhibition Match.
The Opening Round.
Quarterfinals first half.
Quarterfinals second half.
-
NFC Wildcard Opening Round Match; “Wendigo” Wendy Hathale Vs JJ Watson
“BEGIN!”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed, and she cracked her knuckles in anticipation, sighing.
“Alright, we’re both clearly freaks of nature. How do you wanna do this?”
JJ’s smile widens, and he leans down, leering at her.
“You think we can just tear each other apart without issue, don’t you?” He chuckles and licks his lips. “You haven’t realised yet that this isn’t YOUR home, little one.” He looks to what I can only assume is an invisible camera only JJ can see and flashes a far too perfect grin, mechanical in its nature. “The poor girl is so clueless, folks! But don’t you worry, JJ can remedy that stupidity!”
He laughs, shaking his head and slapping his forehead, repeatedly shouting “STUPID!” as his laughter grows more guttural, more manic. He drops to a knee and howls with glee.
“My goodness, my first true contest in a LONG time and it’s against a little girl who reminds me SO much of my dear audience back home. It’s almost ironic, I can’t get away from them how hard I try! I may as well say “HONEY, I’M HOME! DID YA GET ME ANOTHER FAILURE?”
He laughs harder, getting off his feet to lunge at Wendy and pin her down, still laughing as his drool coats her head and mask. I felt sick watching it.
Wendy, to her credit, was unperturbed.
“Man, you ever been told how much of a fuckin’ creep you are? You reek of chemicals, look like a dollar store horror mannequin reject and talk in such a creepy way that even the local pervert wouldn’t touch you. But most of all…” She pushes him off with great force and sends the laughing, drooling JJ smacking the canvas before he rights himself to stare at her. In that time, she darts forward and in an instant is across the side of the pit, clutching an ear in her hand and throwing it to the ground as JJ continues howling with laughter, white fluid and pus trickling out of his ear.
“You’re fucking disgusting, JJ.” She quips, turning back around and extending her fingers. I'm staggered, but I proceed with enthusiasm.
“This truly is a blink and you’ll miss it bout, fight fans! Wendy Hathale clears half the pit in a split second and takes JJ’s ear with her! Curious that she doesn’t go to taste it though…”
“Not at all, if you consider that JJ isn’t human.” Nelle replied, searching the contents page of her book for a particular entry, flicking through the pages until she stopped under “I”. A detailed diagram of a spectral shape that shifts at will to scare townspeople laid bare for me to see. “He’s an Ikaggen, a very special kind of trickster god that can shapeshifter into many things to enact his cruelty. But his most common appearance…” She trails off as JJ splayed out on all fours and began twitching while he laughed.
His back hunched up and snapped, stretching out to form the long neck and thorax, a bulky abdomen housing an extra pair of spindly legs with gnarled hooks across the length of them. The front hands reaching up and bending forwards to form the raptorial saw-like weaponry as his skin darkens and the carapace shimmers under the lights, piercing silver antenna split out of his head as the hair recedes and gives way to grotesque bulging eyes. The jaw crunching, splitting and gnashing as mandibles rapidly replace the perfect teeth. He gurgles as his laughter gives way to hisses and growls.
“You are not in The Hotel just as I am not Beneath The Static, we are both vulnerable to the unyielding jaws of death. I am not willing to risk such a thing in front of a live audience, young one. I will tear you to pieces and show the world what lies beneath the static.”
He lunges forward and takes a swipe at her with his hooked claws, slicing the inside of her thigh as she darts back and ripping the skin, flecks of black blood coating the hooks as he chuckles, his body remaining still.
Wendy landed as her leg gave out, looking at it expectantly, hoping it would fix itself. Instead, the blood continued to trail around her until she ripped away the torn fabric and wrapped it around her.
If she was scared, she damn sure didn’t show it.
“Well, I guess you’re truthful about something, JJ.” She said, breathing a little heavy from the blood-loss, steadying herself as she rose to her feet. “Y’know, we get cable in the Hotel Inertia, I’m aware of who you are and what you do… pickin’ on teenagers for your own amusement. You really THAT much of an attention whore that you can’t stay away? They'll grow up and come back stronger, you know. When you pick on someone your own size, you're always gonna lose.”
JJ didn’t respond, swaying ever so slightly like a brittle leaf caught in a mild breeze. He was waiting to strike. Wendy pulled off her sweater and threw it aside, showing a thin stomach that almost caved in, binding wrapping her chest and ribcages, old wounds and scars littering her body.
“This is the result of countless fights, feedings and gruelling fights. Some at home with my “adopted family”, others with The Order of the 13th floor alongside my friends, the ones this fuckin’ tournament ripped me away from at our crisis moment. You think YOU scare me? You think the idea of being torn up and actually dying scares me?” She laughs, it’s hollow and bitter, like she’s remembering the bright side of a vicious beating is the unconscious state she’ll fall into when the pain gets too much.
“You have NO fuckin’ idea. I’d be so happy to go to sleep and never wake up, to have that ceaseless hunger stop for just one day. Do you know what that kind of hunger does to someone? It makes an ordinary person angry on the first day, delirious on the second and manic by the third. Now take what I am and multiply that number by thousands.”
Wendy takes off her mask and shows the gritted teeth biting on her lower lip so much that she’s torn through the flesh, blood coating her chin as the teeth grow more spiked and the jaw grows larger, her eyes blackening and skin greying. She grows taller and the features of a once beautiful woman give way to a horrifying creature known for its insatiable lust for flesh.
Crouching down like a sprinter at the starting line, she stares down her opponent like a piece of meat.
“So just imagine what that’s gonna do to you now I’ve let loose, JJ.”
I can’t believe my eyes. In that moment, the reality of the situation hit me like a freight train and I feel the innate fear of being a small fish in an ocean filled with sharks. I can’t let my composure falter, not with Alduin’s gaze bearing down on me. I take a long drink of water and tumble headfirst into my adrenaline.
“AMAZING! Wendigo Wendy living up to her name as she assumes a more terrifying form! This fight looks to be heading to its climax folks, expect blood and guts galore!”
I was right. Within 20 seconds, it was over.
Wendy leaves great dents in the canvas as she tears forward, JJ swipes at her in the instant she comes into his range, his front forearm hooking into her flesh and pulling her in. She pushes forward, the skin tearing with the force of her movement and an ungodly shriek emitting from her as she bites into the offending arm and pulls up with her jaws, tearing it free while her right hand slices into JJ’s eye, the nails going straight through the soft flesh and pulling at the socket until it’s wrenched completely free.
She casts it aside and lets the wailing JJ Watson stumble away, leaking that same fluid addled with a horrid chemical stench.
Losing strength, he begins forming back into himself; the eye closing up and his suit tattered as he gripped the stump. Wendy watches him for a moment, bits of JJ’s mantis-arm still in between her teeth that she spits out as she stares him down. He’s breathing heavily as she walks closer, every step impactful.
“Well, folks… It seems I underestimated this young woman’s ability to let go. I thought she’d be like my hardcore audience and just cave under the pressure of mortality…” He looks up, that perfect skin cracking around the edges. “But I’ll tell you something, this will make for great publicity!”
She kicks him square in the gut and he’s sent into the air with a wheeze. As he falls down, she catches the back of his neck in her jaws with a sickening crunch, his body twitching in the air as he gasps.
“Looks like… my time at the NFC… is up. But, Wendigo Wendy… I made you see what you fear. What lies Beneath The Static… Death itself.”
He snaps his fingers and the lights go out across the venue, obscuring us for a moment. When they turn on, Wendy is kneeling on the ground in her normal form, exhausted and her mask firmly back on.
“A stunning turn of events! Right as Wendigo Wendy had JJ in her jaws. He pulls a fast one and escapes out of the back door! But, I think we can all agree that while Wendy had some scrapes, it’s absolutely her fight to win!”
I look to Alduin who is seething with rage, but concedes the fight is over and awards Wendy the victory.
“Wendy Hathale advances, we will announce the remaining participants at the end of the interval, but each has been told of their inclusion already. The tournament will recommence in 3 hours. Rest up, you’ll fuckin’ need it!”
-
Alduin storms off to the back, leaving Wendy still struggling to get up as the crowd disperses. I debate going down there to help, but a surprising hand is offered to help her up.
Eustace De Kolta holds out a red-gloved hand, his curled smile betraying his keen and curious eyes.
The guy gave off the sort of vibe one would expect from an old creepy man on public transport.
“You had quite the ordeal, Miss Hathale. I knew you had something special in you, I just wasn’t aware of how unique you truly are…” His voice was like silk, every syllable softly declared and hanging in the air, Wendy looked up before slapping his hand away, struggling to her feet.
“I know what you are and what you do, De Kolta. A single handshake from you and I could end up in that nightmare fuel Pokemon satchel you keep with you. No thanks.” She walks towards him and despite being a solid foot shorter, gets in his face and stares up at him. “You come near me, I’ll pull a disappearing act of my own on your jugular. Understand?” He shows his teeth as he grins and backs away, bowing deeply.
“I look forward to seeing your future matches and I do hope you succeed. It would be most fortuitous if we were to meet in the pit. I think you’d play well with my menagerie.” He stands and watches her as she leaves, an open door leading into the main lobby of the arena now available. Before I can process everything, his gaze locks onto me and I see something I never expected.
The smile immediately dips into a low, sinister grimace.
He looks at me with a hunger and a hatred I have never seen before.“Hey, Sal.” A voice calls behind me. I turn to see Nora in an orange and white hoodie, the hood turned up and a warm smile beaming at me, immediately disarming my sense of anxiety. When I turn back, Eustace is gone.
“Oh, hi! Nora Zayne, you were fantastic in your bout! I knew Pencak Silat was deadly but man… who’d of thought it’d be used so well against monsters, huh?” I stood up and felt my knees buckle, the adrenaline wearing off and hunger overtaking me. Before I even hit the floor, Nora caught me.
“Easy big guy, I gotcha. Let’s get you some food and talk, kay? You coming along, Nelle?” Her informal nature was so unexpected from a woman I’d just seen decimate something Asia fears across the continent, but I felt myself just naturally going with it. Nelle looked and immediately busied herself with the compendium.
“Oh! Uhh.. no, no. I have far too much work to do, research for the wildcard entrants and whatnot. Oh and there’s that uh.. that thing I have to attend to. Gotta speak to Alduin too about something… I’ll catch you in a couple hours to go over notes, kay Sal?” She looked awkward and hurried herself past us as Nora stared incredulously.
“Huh… well, that was a bit odd. But no matter, let’s go get some grub. I’m sure you have questions, right?” I just nodded as she took me by the arm and kept me steady as we barrelled past the denizens of the audience still debating “who would win” scenarios, old champions and other nightmarish spectres. The upper ring was sprawling and hard to navigate, I had no idea how Nora was so familiar with it. As we descended to the middle floor where the vendors and entertainment was situated, we passed a bar serving strange drinks with a multitude of bottles, a beautiful Bernese mountain dog barking at the window, his big fluffy face licking at the glass until a man pulled him away.
“He’s cute, can we stop there?” I asked. “Feelin’ kinda thirsty… maybe they have an adrenaline drink?” She looked back, a tad confused, but didn’t stop as we made a beeline for the fighters only cafeteria.
“What bar?" She asked. I looked again, but in its place stood a donut stand, a surly older man dishing them out by the dozen with a multitude of sprinkles. My mouth agape, she chuckles. "Hey since you'r so eager, I’ll make you a deal; I make it through the semis, you can buy me a drink.” She winked, and I felt my stomach knot up.
Couldn’t tell you if it was the hunger or butterflies, but motormouth was very much silent for a little bit.
“You’re wondering why I’m taking an interest in you, right?” She called over the booming sound of the crowd and pumping metal music, I nodded. “You showed a support in me when you called my fight and when I had to defend you... Well, I looked up and thought you were cute. Got a thing for the nerdy ones.”
“But that’s not all, is there?” I asked, my head pounding as I did so. Maybe it was the music? She looked back and flashed a cheeky grin.
“Nope, but that’s a story for another day. We gotta eat and you’ve got more interesting questions for all of us.” She laughed as we watched a fighter far too drunk for his own good challenging a still-eating Miroslav Zanaya to a fight.
One side punch later, the guy was on his ass and vomiting.
“All of us? What do you mean?”
“The fighters! You’ve gotta meet and interview ‘em ahead of the semifinals and wildcard, don’t ya?” I shrugged, and she laughed again. “Man, you really are clueless, Nelle wasn’t kidding. You’re doing part of her job, too. I’m doing you a favour by bringing you with me.”
We passed a betting table showing the odds for the semifinals and wildcard, Eustace and Wendy respectively being the odds on favourites to win. Nora and Landry Eavy being the biggest underdogs.
Whatever was lurking in the booth and taking slips from paying customers, it had tendrils and shimmering red eyes. I didn’t dare stare too long as we passed it.
Down one more flight of stairs and we were in the employee section housing the nightmares, fighters and various services like medical stations, prep rooms and the like. One long hallway to our left was all that stood between us and some glorious smelling food. As we got halfway down, however, Nora pushed me to the wall and put a hand over my mouth, her slightly taller frame covering me as someone walked past.
I looked to her and was about to protest, but the look on her face screamed danger. Her brow was furrowed. The calm and kind demeanour she’d showed was replaced with an instinct to protect.
As I followed her gaze, I saw why.
It was like watching a great black swarm that undulated into the visage of a human man with long horns. A cloak of hungry, vivacious locusts that jostled and crawled for position. The sound rippled through my ears, my eardrums threatening to burst and my skull screaming for breath as it neared.
When the locusts parted, a skull with an elongated back that stretched out horizontally peered down at Nora, the arms on the back of the thick spine pulling at a sheathed sword on its torso. The smell of rot was so powerful that I felt my vision blur.
“You realise that by coming back here, you’ve sealed your fate and thus our deal must be concluded.” It spoke in a thousand voices at once, the boom of so many souls screaming for relief and joy and ecstasy. A bead of sweat ran down Nora’s forehead as she tried to find the words.
“I’m aware of our arrangement and what it means to return. But I ask that you wait until my time in the tournament has concluded.” The locusts hissed, and the cloak revealed more of this abomination; the shimmering black armour clad in gold, the powerful arms on the shoulder blades, the hoofed feet and a worn down, blackened and cracked NFC Belt.
It turned its head to me and I felt the looming shadow of death put its hands around my throat in a way I can only describe as seeing an oncoming car and veering out of harm’s way, but amplified 100 fold. A sensation that your life could end with one false move.
This creature was a foot away from me and we both know it could crush me in an instant. Fear doesn’t begin to describe how I felt in that moment. He spoke again, silencing her.
“I will decide when such a contest must be undertaken. Be it now, during your next bout or when you are nearing death at the hands of Alduin IF you somehow survive your next two bouts… I will add you to the chorus where you shall remain.” The locusts covered him again, and he walked away, humming. “You should have stayed forgotten, it would have been better for all.”
As he walked away and into the darkness, both I and Nora collapsed against the wall in a heap. It took a good couple of minutes to regain thought, and I’m man enough to admit I was shaking.
“What… what the hell was that?” I breathed. Nora wiped the sweat from her head and stood up, clenching her fist.
“That was someone I made a deal with when I was last here. He offered me a fight I was not supposed to refuse. The penalty for leaving meant he could challenge me anytime, anywhere, and under his rules. If he beats me… well, you’ve seen what happens." She walks with me expediently to the end of the hallway where the other fighters are waiting. Suddenly, all the terrifying and skilled talent we've seen in the tournament ebbs away, just for a moment. She continues, the noise and ruckus of the semifinalists drowned out by the mixture of fear and anger in her voice.
"Where Alduin rules the openweight division and anyone can compete, making her the queen of the NFC... He rules the nightmare division with an iron fist. Only the most terrifying of creatures compete for that prize and the promise of something... more."
She swallowed and turned to me, genuine terror in her eyes.
“That was Abaddon. The NFC's Abyss Champion. And he’s coming for me.”
-
NEXT: There's more going on here than just the fights.

I'm a commentator for a tournament of nightmares. There's darker things going on here than just the fights.

The Exhibition. Where it all began.
There is more than one terrifying NFC Champion.Where we left off.
-
“That was Abaddon. The NFC Abyss Champion. And he’s coming for me.”
She stared at the spot where he’d once stood, beads of sweat running down her forehead before blinking and smiling, trying to put the situation to the back of her mind as she took my arm and lead me towards the bustling mess hall.
“Well, cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we’ve got a meeting for you to attend.”
With that, she pushed open the doors to the semifinalists eagerly chowing down on food. Rex Chugg was downing a 40oz with glee, Eustace De Kolta sat in the far corner throwing food into his satchel and eating some soft bread. To the back lay Wendy, nursing her leg while listening to some music, a blood bag IV attached to her through a thin tube. Miroslav was undoubtedly still busy eating outside and neither Nelle nor Landry could be seen.
“Huh, they must still be training. Ah well, good to see ya Nora!” A large bearded man in his 40’s sauntered over, his black apron sporting the cheesy line “Saturday is a day for Dads.” Across the front, a greasy dishrag hastily tucked into his pocket as he opened his arms for a hug which Nora eagerly gave. He smiled, but didn’t make eye contact and when she let go, offered a gargantuan palm, blinking rapidly. Which I grabbed, fear of bones being crushed immediately set aside by the warmth in which he held it.
“Nice to meet ya, I’m Zunkle the head chef, but you can call me Zunk! You the new guy? You must be hungry, don’t worry! I got a Stromboli with your name on it! Oh and lemme know if I’m too loud, I got ASD and I don’t always know if I’m coming on TOO much!” He chuckled nervously, Nora patting his back.
“You’re fine, Zunk. We’ll let ya know if you become larger than life, I promise. Sal, you wanna eat right? The Stromboli is to die for! Plus, I can send the fighters over when you’re ready, sound good?”
“Yeah, sure. Where are you off to?” I asked as she stretched out her arms.
“I gotta train, I’ll catch up with you before the interval is over, kay? You can ask me what you need to know then. Promise.” Her hazel eyes shimmered in the light, I didn’t know how to respond.
Instead, I nodded sheepishly and she hurried off. Zunk put his arm around me and funnelled me past the fighters to get me seated. He nodded and excused himself, rummaging in the back room as he prepared the meal.
“Do you remember why they let you out, Sal?”
The voice is low, guttural and fills my ears. Looking up from the table, I saw the lights flickering and rapidly going out around me. One by one the surrounding tables were plunged into darkness, leaving only mine still dimly lit.
“Do you remember what put you there in the first place, Sal?”
My body is frozen in place, like sleep paralysis, but with some limited movement of my head. The air is fetid, cold, and something is shifting in the dark, but I’m unable to see it.
Whatever it is, it wants to keep its distance.
But as the eyes fixed on me, I felt a surge of memories run through my mind as if a tape was on fast forward. Scattered moments of birthdays past and happy mornings spent with loved ones, years stripped away in an instant before my head hung forward, a cold sweat dripping onto the table while the remainder of my body remained still. Clammy, cold hands run their fingers through my hair and down my face. I feel sick, like I’m this person’s plaything. The eyes across from me stay fixated on me, the same guttural voice growling out as I feel the hands gently push my head to look at the table.
“A card. A bottle. A choice.” Sure enough, a face down tarot card to the left, a piece of paper to the right and in the centre sat a bottle in the shape of a black human heart, ventricles and veins perfectly placed, letting the dark fluid rush around in its centre and creating a slight steam as it bubbled from the top ventricle. The label read: “The Society Of The Sunless Gives Unto You: The Kingmaker. With consumption, he ascended to his endless throne.”
“A beast. A bar. A voice.” The higher voice chimed behind me, rife with excitement. “The cycle repeats, the threat retreats and for now, rejoice.”
They kept repeating it as the drink bubbled over, the black liquid congealing on the table before thick smoke billowed out, the card burning at the edges and the letter unfolding to show my invitation from the NFC.
My head swirled, the hands gripped harder, and I felt the higher-pitched voice come up to my ear, dragging its tongue along the nape of my neck and into my ear as I shivered.
“This time, it will be different. We promise.”
The hands eased off and my body fell to the table, jumping up to fend them off, I was face to face with Zunk, carrying a piping hot tray with Stromboli and looking perplexed.
“You okay, Sal? I got your Stromboli, it’s a speciality of mine.”
“Ah, yeah, I’m good Zunk. Thanks. It’s actually nice to have someone who works here show hospitality.” He blinked and looked down at my shoes as he spoke.
“It’s no trouble, having been here a while and with a bloodied past, I know what it’s like to want to start again.. Oh, did Nelle tell you?” “Tell me what? Is the Stromboli not paid for?” I quipped, he laughed heartily.
“No, no. I’m your co-commentator until Nelle either wins or is booted from the wildcard! I’ve been here a while and I know my stuff, I promise!” He tapped his fingers nervously. “I don’t want you thinking I’m just a glory hog.”“Nah, if Nelle recommended you then it’s all good for me.” I noticed that Rex was staring at me as he belched the last of his drink. Had he seen something?
“AY! Lemme split that with you!” He bellowed, rushing over. I sighed, of course he hadn’t seen. If it wasn’t a fight or something to satisfy him, I doubt he’d see much else. He was an imposing mass of muscle and brawn that on most folks would scream intimidating. Especially considering what he did during his quarterfinal match. But now, he almost seemed chummy.
“A pair of warriors should always try to dine together!” He cried, slamming his fists down as Zunk awkwardly split it.
“At least it’s not an odd number…” He mumbled, smiling to me and heading back to the kitchen. Rex stared at him as he disappeared, calling out to someone called Sancho to take over for the evening shift as the big door swung back and forth for a moment.
“Y’know he’s The Jersey Devil, right? Dude has a sick history. And I do mean SICK.” Rex smirked as he bit down into the Stromboli. The look of pain on his face when he felt the burning sensation run through his mouth was priceless. “Fuck, that’s hot! Ain’t nothing I can’t handle, though.”
We chatted for a while and to my surprise, Rex was pleasant. He had a prickly personality and was, to a degree, hotheaded, but he was passionate and dedicated to his gym. His reason for being here? He wouldn’t say, but promised me it was worth all the broken bones he could muster.
After that, I spoke to Zanaya and Eustace, neither of which giving me much info on their motivations or techniques. Zanaya slurred his words, probably from the drinking and declaring “state secret” with a wavy hand before he moved me on. Eustace on the other hand repeatedly asked me if I wanted to “join the order” so that I could learn his secrets. I didn’t.
Walking to Wendy, she sighed and bandaged her leg tighter.
“Anything I wanted to say has already been said, come back to me when I’m in the finals and I’ll give you the interview of a fuckin’ lifetime, kay? I got shit to prepare for.” She was frustrated, that much was obvious. But the more she stared at Eustace, the more I worried she was overlooking the talent within her own bracket. In any case, I didn’t want to be a bother, and I excused myself to look for the others.
No Nelle or Landry in sight, and the remainder of the competitors were unknown, so I cut my losses and made a beeline for the upper ring again. It took some confusing turns and repeatedly bumping into fans before I realised how lost I was. Everyone passed me by without so much as an acknowledgment, the announcement rang out that I had 30 minutes to get to my seat and do my usual prep. To put it simply; I was mildly freaking out.
“Hey, buddy. You look like you could use a drink.”
I turned and saw that same small bar from earlier right opposite me, the doors open and a young man in his late 20’s washing a cup in the doorway. He grinned as a Bernese mountain dog stood by his side, trying to get out and greet me, drool flecks already across his cheeks as he pants with joy.
“Not yet, buddy. Not the right time.” He said before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bottle wrapped in a thick black cloth. “You’re gonna need this, don’t open it until you’re sat down. But when you do, read the instructions and keep it close. You’ll thank me when the time comes.”
I couldn’t even say anything, staring incredulously as tired but wild eyes stared back at me from beneath thick circular black glasses. He whistled and the dog, eager as he was to see me, turned back to follow him. He leaned his head back to call to me one last time before the doors closed.“Oh and.. it’s good to see you again, Sal.”
With that, the bar was shut, and I threw caution to the wind, running up the stairs and trying to retrace my steps with Nora as best I could. Thankfully, I made it with some time to spare. No Nelle sat beside me, but her book was propped up on the chair and I knew she wanted me to protect it.
The lights dimmed and Alduin resumed her spot in the centre of the pit with a swell of pride bubbling within her, the mic expertly in hand as the screen descended.
“Twisted freaks of nature, I welcome you back for the NFC OpenWeight semifinals and the remainder of The NFC Wildcard opening round! Before we kick things off, I’ll be listing the competitors for The Wildcard. I hope you’re ready!”
The crowd shows their approval as the screen starts filling in the blank boxes underneath Wendy and a now faded out JJ Watson.
“She’s a bonafide killer from a bygone age; she finds tracks and eliminates crypts without prejudice! One half of our commentary team and a burning desire to fight one special member of our roster… The Huntress Madame Nelle Lockwood!”
Nelle took a bow and kept her expression neutral. She was focused and determined.
“Next up is someone we just HAD to give a chance to after we reviewed his “unique” case. He’s our fight interviewer and a true warrior of his clan, Landry Eavy!”
Landry sheepishly waved as he adjusted his shorts, stretching out his calf muscles.
“Now it wouldn’t be the NFC without some surprises, folks. Our first is a surprise even to me, but during the break I gave an audience to two unexpected individuals. One who’s come back from the dead and another who… well… you’ll see. First up, he’s somehow returned from the depths of hell itself and achieved a true Nirvana state; Qwong Xiao!” Sure enough, a scarred and paler Qwong walks from the dugout and bows deeply. The veins on his muscles are black and his skin is almost translucent. But he radiated strength.
“Last, but by no means least, is an individual who made a point of entering when I informed him that he could not simply get into the main tournament, even with HIS credentials. Ladies and gentleman, he is the NFC Abyss Champion; Abaddon!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. The champion of nightmares, the same fucking thing that had came inches to my face and threatened to take out Nora when he saw fit, was now involving himself in this? The sounds of those locusts tore at my eardrums even from this distance as he walked into the pit and took off his broken, blackened belt to hold high for all to see. Alduin was beside herself with joy and bloodlust. The notion of Champ vs Champ must have been like ambrosia to her and to the crowd.
With that, The Wildcard roster was set, and we were due to get a match from each to kick things back off. Zunk came and took a seat next to me, his extremely large frame actually putting me at ease from any more potential would-be threats.
“You ready to do this, partner?” He looked nervous, eyes darting all around and breathing heavily, but he nodded as I pushed record. Alduin took to the mic right on cue;
“Let’s not waste anymore time then, bring out the next competitors!”
Qwong stayed in his spot and stared down the elevator, whirring and coming to a stop. What rushes out is horrifying to behold; the golden beak, beady little black eyes, wiry bowl hair with a bald spot on the front and long thick claws on each digit; A kappa.
NFC WILDCARD OPENING MATCH: QWONG XIAO VS THE KAPPA
It didn’t wait for Alduin to finish her announcement or to get out of the way, it simply rushed forward with the absolute desire to eviscerate in mind.
“I suffered the greatest shame and pain to get back here. I was devoured by the great beast, humiliated by the Whore of Babylon. All my teachings amounting to nothing. I climbed the tower and followed the thread. I am here now because of my perseverance.” Qwong spoke with such calm elegance, his stance remaining neutral; a hand behind his back and standing upright. The Kappa did not stop charging, it passed Qwong and in that instant, fell to the floor. Its head being dragged by the momentum before it slammed into the opposite wall and coated it in a thick green fluid.
It turned, furious and charged again. Qwong adjusted his stance and outstretched a fist towards the beast, furrowing his brow.
“Come into my range and you’ll return to dust.”
But The Kappa persisted and the moment it was within a couple of feet, one large shot rang out that was so fierce, a small gust of wind blew up and threatened to knock my papers.
When the dust cleared, The Kappa lay in a heap with its entire skull concave. Twitching on the ground as Qwong prayed for a moment before returning to the dugout, unphased.
“MY GOD! HE JUST WRECKED HIM!” Zunk shouted, realising his volume was a little too loud and sitting back from the mic. “Man, Sal! You gotta admire the growth of this guy!”
“That’s right, Zunk. From complete shut-out against the NFC Openweight pet “Gashadokuro” to decimating his enemy with one dodge and one incredible punch, I’d say Qwong Xiao has done more than enough to redeem himself in the eyes of the NFC and fight for his spot in the Openweight tourney!
Alduin, perched on the fence after the Kappa’s charge, followed Qwong with her gaze as he sat down. He’d definitely piqued her curiosity. She leapt down and leaned back as she shouted at the top of her lungs;
“Qwong Xiao advances in our second Wildcard match! On with the violence!”
This time, it was Miroslav Zanaya taking point. He looked, for lack of a better word, wasted as all hell. Stumbling around and lackadaisical, it was very out of character for the usually stoic Dagestani. Still, he went into his usual position and seemed to have composure as Alduin announced his opponent emerging from the elevator.
“Our first semifinalist is The Dagestani Supersoldier; Miroslav Zanaya! But his opponent will certainly be a test for him not physically… but mentally. The Kikimora!”
What emerged stood on thick red chicken legs, a basic dress, white shirt and babushka hood covering the long black hair as two horns protruded from the base of the skull. Its skin was burnt, charred and blackened, the eyelids completely stripped away and leaving bulging, milky white eyes in its wake. The lips were pink and cut, rows of white pillar teeth hiding just behind it. The lower jaw sporting three large bulbous sacks that pulsated. It moved as if it was a flickering image, hard to keep focus on the more clarity the lights gave it. It felt wrong to stare at it for too long, despite it being my job.
NFC OPENWEIGHT SEMIFINALS: MIROSLAV ZANAYA VS THE KIKIMORA
“BEGIN!” The Kikimora flickered closer to Zanaya and something immediately felt wrong. Zanaya had his head bowed in the exact same way he’d done his previous fight, but I could see no motion or movement from him. The closer The Kikimora got, the more my anxiety and fear grew. This thing was going to rip him to pieces.
Grabbing the compendium, I flicked through until I fell upon the entry detailing what The Kikimora did. It was definitely a Russian demon that invaded dreams, but it had to physically TOUCH you in order to enact its abilities. So why was Zanaya not taking advantage?
Then I remembered seeing him at the bar earlier, his slurred responses during the interview. I wondered…
“Hey, Zunk. Do people sabotage fighters or fights here often?” He scoffed “Do I make a damn good Stromboli? Yes, yes they do. It’s sometimes outside interests looking to make a bet, an old grudge or…” “Or what?” I pressed, he looked uncomfortable as he pulled at his sleeve, a grimace forming on his face.
“Or they want their spot in the tourney, by any means necessary.”
The Kikimora wrapped its hands around Zanaya’s arms and the nails dug deep into his flesh, pulling him up. I was expecting him to headbutt, fight back, or maybe even go into that unusual rage state he’d displayed for us before.
But instead, my worst fears were confirmed.
He was paralysed, his body a mere puppet for this horrific creature to play with. I watched in horror as The Kikimora’s eyes grew wider and the lips parted to open the jaw. It pulled at his skin until a separation was made; what looked like a wisp of smoke emerged and The Kikimora eagerly grabbed it with a free hand and devoured it, dropping Zanaya to the floor and screeching as the crowd cheered.
“Well, would you look at that, folks! Our first Semifinalist eliminated, and it wasn’t even a fight! What the hell happened to that super soldier power?!” Alduin seemed bemused, laughing as The Kikimora went back to the elevator and descended, licking its lips. Zanaya lay on the ground, eyes white and no movement.
“Why didn’t it finish him? Was it feeling generous?” Zunk asked, leaning forward to look down at him, I trembled in my seat and closed the book, taking a sip of water with shaking hands and the fear of what this tournament and its alumni could do if they wanted.
“It did finish him. The Kikimora eats souls, not bodies. Someone wanted Zanaya vulnerable and they got it.” As the next two competitors took to the pit, I remembered the bottle I had in my possession and I unfolded the cloth, realising just how much I may need this in the other bouts;
It was a silver bottle with a chain around it... ice cold to the touch with a combination lock over the cap and a code written on the inside of the cloth, a small note just beneath it;
“Professor Ambrose Ashton-Smith’s Silver Tear Potion; Your cycle shall not end so long as you keep this close. One glass for injury, two for death.”
“You’ll know when the time is right. Good luck… and protect them. - Krauss.”
-
NEXT: Sometimes it comes down to pure luck.

26/07/20 - Premier League - Leicester City vs Manchester United - Pre-Match Thread

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure OC Tournament #5: Round 2 Match 2 - Maxwell Tenet VS Ace High!

The results are in for Match 1.
The match had proven to be very aerial, both performers very quickly finding ways to fulfill the letter of the ‘try and stay on the ropes’ directive Conqueror Worm had left for them while literally and figuratively flying in the face of its spirit. Alexis Williams needed to very frequently replenish her balloon armor as she bounced around, opportunities to actually get as close to Wrenn Aflight as she’d needed to being very difficult to come by.
Though with her Stand acting as it was, perhaps she didn’t mind such a thing. There was something about the quiet resolve of Kingdom of Desire, even as it wore a certain familiar ring, that was making her almost afraid of what this extension of herself, her traumas, her memories of her, might do. In the meantime, this guy who had agreed to be her opponent had been trying to sing, hiding his pain and his vitriol under his own sort of strong face and performing for the crowd. A tornado of dust had begun to engulf the arena, courtesy of his efforts, and the Vegas-veteran knew a dramatic, flaming ring when she saw one.
As it was, a swing and a near miss had placed her positionally several meters underneath the performer, her own form having been harmed on occasion by the influx of particulate-based chip damage, sweating from the mounting heat in the room, and unable to see many of the balloons she’d left in the fog of smoke as the performer covered the arena; she could barely see the walls, or the windows, let alone any of those.
Alexis needed to put literally everything she had into one final balloon dash. If she could close the distance between herself and Wrenn, she could certainly end this match in close quarters, and if he closed that cyclone of his in on her before she could get out of it, she would be burned badly by the glowing singer.
It was a quick-draw, then.
“Hmm?” Wrenn seemed to register something, his eyes facing her yet not seeming to be focusing on her at all - had something she’d set up earned the attention of that eye-dust he’d scattered about?
Already, the burning dust storm was starting to lower, extremely slowly and not seeming to constrict yet to Alexis’ surprise. Hell, she could even see the balloons she’d left nearby the windows now in one of the points she’d flown towards them, tried to catch Wrenn offguard. Why was he drawing it out when he’d seen what she could do? Why would he waste time on that? This place could catch alight!
“Hey!” The boy clinging to his umbrella above her called down. “These people want their finale! You’re on the same stage as me, so make it grand!”
That was all Alexis needed to hear, even bringing a smile to her face where she was expecting misery. Willing blast after blast of the amassed balloons, she sent all that she could utterly flying.
The tinted windows, which had started off so durable, had not only already begun to crack, but melt under the intense heat, and the balloons close to them blew them open on all sides, filling the previously quieter air with the shocked swears and calls for security of their small audience.
“Wrenn, you changed your mind?!” She wanted to cry for a different reason, but knew now wasn’t the time. That move would likely have only startled them, with holes in the glass of that size (a move by design for Alexis), so the pair would need to think fast in order to avoid being put down for this.
“You’ve been my LEAST favorite kind of audience!” He called eagerly, the flaming cyclone rising again and quickly funneling through the various windows, its burning intensity turned away from Alexis and towards the occupants of each of the viewing boxes. “If you’re putting people in shows like these, then *you have this coming!”***
The screams of the few watchers intensified.
With players’ scores matching at 69 (Nice), you could say the real winner was teamwork… Probably.

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Judecca Highrollers	10-19	With a three-vote lead, once again, popularity resolved in a way where the thirtieth point is burned away by a spinning cyclone and balloon blast after blast.
Quality	Masters of Funky Action	22-21	Reasoning
JoJolity	Masters of Funky Action	27-19	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10

“C’mon, Alexis, don’t choke now! Get us out of here, that guy probably protected himself, and Worm guy definitely has!”
Truthfully, Wrenn had meant to finish her off as the show demanded, secure his own safety, but when his eye-dust had noticed the window-damage, seen that past its cracks there were Fox and the other watchers on all sides, and from there little stairways up into the abandoned stations above and from there, up to the city.
For now, trying not to flinch from the sights of people in pain, he used his spread-out eye-property dust to look into all four sides he could leave from, trying to quickly assess all information. In one room, Conqueror Worm stood, looking extremely amused at this turn of events and doing little to help those trying to get to safety before hopping up into the ceiling and vanishing.
In the second, easily the most burning avenue of escape, a strange fellow in a maroon turban and face coverings stood right by the edge of the destroyed window, not at all minding the flames even as they caught the outfit alike, beginning to lift it up to remove with unsettling fearlessness; the only thing Wrenn saw as flames overtook the area and made its ceiling collapse was this figure grinning widely at him, accentuating a jagged-looking scar along the revealed lower half of their face.
The third side, he could see Fox quickly transform a rock sculpture of an annoying-looking dog into a makeshift shield, protecting himself, that golden-suited Tigran Sins guy, and a shocked looking Metra Doria from the initial, less lethal glass blasts as if he’d seen the flames coming, the structure seeming highly heat resistant and similar in makeup to the balloon armor as it hurried away.
The fourth was mostly just filled with screaming guys, and the stairs still looked accessible.
“Holy hell, are you crazy? Look, uh… Don’t worry about me!” The voice of Metra amplified and pleaded, resonating loudly and clearly in the heads of both fighters, even through the crackling and pain. “I’ll be fine, just… Just escape! I agreed to this because I wanted to ensure you three would survive!”
Well, that settled the guilt on that dilemma. Wrenn quickly pointed to the safest bet. “Blast us that way before we burn up and die! You can’t get cold feet in a place like this!”
Alexis was taken aback, but KoD knew not to let them die for this. Quickly, audible pops! blasted the replenished flying gymnast up towards the singer, right as his umbrella caught alight and he began to fall. He dropped into Alexis’ grasp, and from there in seconds flat they were up and blasting through the direction Wrenn had pointed out, landing safely in the stairways and very quickly making their ways up.
“What… What the hell did you need to go that far for?” Alexis asked, still rattled as the pair caught their breaths.
“Sorry for-” Wrenn coughed a lot, then spoke in a less affected tone. “Sorry for doing what you asked, and trusting you in the end! ‘Put our minds together,’ ‘don’t get caught off-guard,’ ‘get out of here…’” He looked away towards the sound of approaching sirens, voice sounding even heavier, as if a massive weight were on his lithe shoulders. “What did you think that would mean?”
Alexis’ lip trembled, and she hugged herself, finding her stand’s arms around her doing the same thing after a moment. She couldn’t rebut. This was Wrenn trusting in her, wanting her help in escaping these death games, but to do that..! To leave people in such a state, and that the worst perpetrators clearly survived anyway, and that Metra was still stuck with that guy..!
“They’re not going to chase us like this,” he continued, as much trying to convince himself not to break down as he put on his hardest ‘strong face,’ different from that which Alexis had seen before. “So many of those guys probably killed people like us, innocents, too… This is a blow to a whole crime ring.”
Not far from the site of the fire, authorities would find remains of a John Doe later identified as local entertainment industry manager Thutmose. Despite the incident earlier that day, authorities deemed it extremely unlikely these events were connected.
The final toll of the fires were seven dead, three missing, fifteen in critical condition, all of whom accounted for a majority of the audience of the match. Though many suspected members of Sound’s Garden’s criminal underground were lost to the flames, with many other regulars having tuned in through dark web streaming, operations on the blood sports were able to continue.
What a first match to open up the round on! Obviously, results are already in, so there won’t be results announced with M3 going up, but at this point, until the very tail-end of the round the typical posting schedule should be in full swing.
Scenario:
A scrapyard on the northwestern edge of Los Fortuna’s slums, 7:46 PM
Ace High was getting tired of having to move around so much, and for this long. Tailing this “Modern Holiday” man was starting to get on his nerves - despite being a detective, he preferred to deal with these kinds of situations in more direct ways, and passing through desolate streets and heaps of junk didn’t exactly fit his definition of “a good time”, even if his stand helped streamline the process a bit.
He’d been following Holiday at the request of Vitus Calamai, a man who SKADE had worked alongside before in an attempt to get in the good graces of ODIN. Furthermore, he’d already done the same to Holiday’s coworker, a woman by the name of Peres Straviat. Unlike before, however, Ace was alone - Kisa had opted to investigate his own leads, leaving the Sharp Lookers behind, and every other member of the team was occupied with their own tasks.
It seemed as if Holiday had something in mind that he wanted to do in the slums, as he’d supposedly been wandering around the area quite a bit recently, for some reason that neither Ace nor Vitus were aware of. However, Ace did hear that Holiday had some history with a few shady gangs and groups in the area, and considering the man’s track record, it was clear that an investigation was warranted.
As the man moved along, and entered a decrepit scrapyard by the edge of the district, Ace began to notice it - a burning stench that pervaded through the massive scrapyard, and a billowing cloud of smoke rising in the distance. The visibility wasn’t very good - smog filled the air, making it harder to discern what he was actually looking at. Furthermore, his vision was already occupied by the massive mounds of scrap around him, and couldn’t make out much of the area due to needing to remain hidden from Holiday.
Holiday’s path seemed to lead him closer and closer to the source of the smoke, and eventually, he seemed to stop and began looking around. He’d almost spotted Ace, who’d just barely dived behind a pile of scrap in time before Holiday spotted him. He could just barely overhear Holiday saying something, though he couldn’t make out exactly what it was. He had to get closer in order to get within earshot of him.
Moving forwards and peeking up from underneath the pile of scrap, Ace could see it - Holiday and a brown haired man wearing a red leather jacket, standing on the edge of a large crater, from which the smoke seemed to be emerging. Ace raised his head up further, getting a better look of what exactly was within the crater, and spotting the source of the smoke - multiple fires seemed to be burning from within, and some sort of figure stood from within, facing in the pair’s direction. Was that a stand?
Before he could think further about what exactly that was, Ace heard a rustling from behind him. Quickly turning around, he saw it - a stand, rising from the smog behind him, reaching out towards him.“Shit!” Ace quickly began scrambling backwards, up the pile of scrap. “Gangster’s-” Before Ace could finish calling for his Gangster’s Paradise to help him, the mysterious stand firmly grabbed his leg and pulled him back into its reach, and Ace lost consciousness.
An alley on the south side of Los Fortuna’s slums, the day prior to Ace’s investigation, 8:32 PM
Maxwell “Ten-Ten” Tenet sat on the ground, back against a graffiti-filled wall, breathing heavily while clutching his side. Bruises and cuts peppered his body, small droplets of blood falling onto the dirty floor beneath him. He wasn’t in the best shape. Still, the passed out body of the man by him was clearly far worse off than Max himself was.
“...heh. Who'd've thought that mugger would be a stand user as well?” Max idly mused to himself. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it probably wasn’t going to be the last. “Well, whatever. Just gotta hope this place calms down eventually...” With a pained grunt, he slowly got up.
He was just on his way over to the Elephant Bones, wanting to surprise London with a visit, when he got sidetracked after hearing the faint noises of some sort of altercation happening far away from him. Quickly checking it out, he quickly realized that it was a mugging, and stepped into the scene to stop it without hesitation. Things quickly spiraled out of control when the mugger tried to fight back against Max with his own stand, but the outcome was inevitable from the very beginning - Max came out on top, albeit having sustained a few wounds here and there.
Beginning to make his way out of the alley, Max sighed. The slums weren’t very peaceful during the best of times, but recently, these kinds of things seemed to have been happening more and more in there. He knew why as well - with the incarceration of “The Gambler”, things were somewhat of a mess for many of the residents of the slums. He didn’t live there himself, but his boyfriend did, and Max came over and patrolled them often enough that he couldn’t help but notice it.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Max was taken aback, hearing an unfamiliar voice come from behind him. Turning, he took a look at the person in front of him - a man with a young-looking face, blonde hair, and a wide grin on his face. “It’s just like six years ago, huh? Total chaos. Try as they might, I guess the Temple of Syrinx and the Bakkers aren’t doing a very good job keeping the criminals in check, haha! And just when it seemed like things were improving for the slums!” Despite the man’s dour words, his tone of voice was upbeat and casual.
“And who’re you?” Max tilted his head, curious about who exactly the odd man was. “Oh, I guess I forgot to introduce myself, haha! The name’s Modern Holiday, but you can just call me ‘Holiday’!”
“Holiday..? Hm..” The name sounded familiar to Max. “What’re you here for, Holiday?”
Holiday seemed to pause for a bit, his smile briefly fading away before he took a deep breath and began speaking. “Well, I’m glad you asked! Actually, I’m here because-” “Oh! I remember! London mentioned that one of his coworkers met someone called ‘Holiday’! Her name was Glitch, d’you know her?” Though he was slightly taken aback, Holiday seemed to lighten up at the mention of Glitch. “Oh, Glitch! Yeah, I know her! She’s a fun person, haha! She makes good food!”
“Anyways… The reason I’m here because I need your help! Or rather, I suppose I’ve got something in mind that I think you’d want to help me out with, since you seem to be the crime fighting type! Well, you aren’t really going to be fighting ‘crime’, but... well… uh...” Holiday stumbled over his own words, unsure of how to to word what he was going to say.
“Hey, just tell me what you want and we’ll see if I can help, yeah?” Max said nonchalantly. “Yeah, you’re right… Sheesh, this isn’t like me...” Holiday said with a sigh. “Well… I want you to kill a stand.”
“A stand?” Max’s raised a brow, a slight frown finding its way onto his face. “So... wouldn’t that mean killing the user as well? If that’s what you’re asking, then I’m not interested.” If that was what this ‘Holiday’ really wanted, then this was just a waste of time.
“Wh- no, no! God no, that’s… Yeah, no, I won’t- that’s not what I’m asking!” Holiday said loudly. “This stand’s user… well, she’s…” Holiday sighed and looked down, scratching his head. “She’s already dead. Has been for a while. It’s just… her stand isn’t dead. It’s still out there.”
Oh. “It didn’t disappear after she died?”
“Yeah… Los Fortuna has a weird effect on stands like that sometimes. The stand, Gasoline Family, just… stayed. Ever since then, it’s been mindlessly rampaging around the spot of her death, attacking anyone that gets nearby and making a mess. They say stands are manifestations of our ‘fighting spirit’ or our ‘souls’ or something like that, yeah? Knowing that, and seeing the only remnant of her act like that, it’s not a very nice sight to look at. No one’s really done anything about it until now since it’s so far out of the way of most people, but I want to… to free what remains of her, you know? If that makes sense. I don’t think she’d have wanted this to be what remained of her. And at the very least, I don’t want any unprepared person who goes there to find themselves killed by it.”
There was a moment of silence as Max took in Holiday’s words. “Did you know her? Gasoline Family’s user, I mean.” Max asked, his voice more quiet than before. In response, Holiday chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that was pretty obvious, huh? You could say we were friends back then.” A far cry from his previous demeanor, Holiday was somber. It made sense, considering the subject matter at hand, but it was an odd sight nonetheless.
“My stand, Sleep Apnea, can help protect you in the fight against Gasoline Family, but it’s not really suited for direct combat. I can’t do this without your help. I saw you fight that mugger - your stand is strong.”
Max thought back to his own past friendships and relationships, then to the people he knew in Los Fortuna. Were a similar situation to happen to someone he knew, he’d… he didn’t want to think much about that. “Well, sure. I’ll help you out.” Max said with a smile, to which Holiday responded with a slight grin as well. “... Yeah. Thank you.”
“So - when are we doing this, and what can this ‘Gasoline Family’ even do?”
Back in the scrapyard, 7:55 PM
The first thing Ace noticed when he woke up was the splitting headache he had, and that he was lying on the ground. The second thing he noticed was the pissed-off face of Modern Holiday, staring right at him. He quickly turned away, looking at his surroundings. He’d been dragged closer to the decrepit, smoke-filled crater, and was right by its edge.
Despite his best efforts, he’d gotten caught, somehow. Was the stand that attacked him Holiday’s? It just popped out of the smog behind him, and the moment it grabbed Ace, he passed out. Did it activate its ability on him? Other than the headache, he felt normal, for the most part. Slightly cold, which was weird, considering how close he was to the fires.
“So, you’re awake. Care to explain why exactly you were following me?” Holiday said with a scowl. Ace wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. There was silence for a few seconds, where nothing but the crackling of the fires within the crater could be heard as Ace thought to himself about his next move. From what he’d heard, Holiday was quite a sociable person, and one who was liable to slip up every once in a while, occasionally revealing some useful and sensitive information. Then again, Vitus also said that he was pretty good at catching on to others’ motives and giving people the slip when he didn’t want to converse with them, so it would be tricky, but if Ace could gather some information from Holiday, then that’d be very good.
Of course, Holiday did seem pretty pissed right now, which was somewhat understandable considering that Ace had been tailing him for quite a while. “Well, you know… I was curious about what you were up to, yeah? Walking around the slums so much, almost makes me think you’ve got something in mind~”
“And what if I do? I’m- Ugh. Look. I know that you’re with SKADE, and that Vitus probably put you up to this. This isn’t related to the Ocean Soul, and it isn’t anything that you should be concerned about or that you need to snoop around for.” Seemed like Holiday wasn’t really in the mood for a conversation, like he was on edge for some reason.
Even if what Holiday said was true, Ace’s own curiosity had been piqued at this point, and furthermore, he needed more information. “Well, I’m still quite curious - what’s it about, then?”
“You want to know? Fine. Get up.” Holiday turned away from Ace and pointed down at something within the crater. Ace took a closer look at it. Within it, he saw piles of scrap and debris tossed about haphazardly, a few of them the sources of raging fires, emitting pillars of smoke into the air.
By the border of the crater was the man that Holiday talked to before, and within it was what seemed to be a stand of some kind, the same figure that he’d seen there before. “You see that figure over there? That’s Gasoline Family, a stand. Its user is already dead, but it’s stayed here for a couple of years by now, making a mess of the area and attacking anyone that gets close enough. I’m getting help from someone in order to destroy it. Not a fan of seeing the only thing that remains from an old friend of mine do… this.” Holiday said, waving his hands to direct Ace’s attention to the chaos within the crater.
“A stand, huh? I see… What’s it do? Something related to fire, I assume.” So that was the reason for the disarray of the area here. “Actually, know what - how about I help you out with this ‘Gasoline Family’? As compensation for tailing you, yeah?” Ace said, grinning.
“Hm? You want to help?” Holiday said, mildly surprised. “Well, sure - I was just about to ask you to do the same. While you’re here, might as well make yourself useful. It should also help reassure you that I’m not doing anything illegal here or something like that, if you don’t believe me.”
“Alright, perfect-” Ace said, taking another look at the crater. “I assume those fires hurt stands, right? Uh… Got any tips about dealing with that? If I don’t know any weaknesses or whatnot, it’ll be hard to deal with Gasoline Family when my stand’s liable to be burnt up just like that. I’d rather not get flash-fried.” Ace said with a chuckle.
“Oh, that? Shouldn’t be a problem for you. See, my Sleep Apnea has the ability to force out ‘aspects’ or ‘parts’ of objects or people into copies of them that it creates. By putting the copies together, they’ll merge, but otherwise, the original body will lose said ‘aspect’ forever. Now, when Sleep Apnea first touched you, I made it activate its ability on you. It removed your body and your clothes’ ability to heat up. Of course, this means that the fire won’t hurt you or your stand at all, so that’s not going to be a problem.”
Now this was information that was useful to Ace. Knowing Holiday’s stand would certainly be useful for Vitus, but… It didn’t take long for the analytical part of his brain to realize what the catch here was. His body wasn’t heating up, but it could probably still cool down - that might’ve been why he felt colder before. “And I assume you’ll bring me back to normal once Gasoline Family’s dealt with? I’d rather not freeze to death, you know.”
“Well, don’t worry about that - I’d rather not have anyone’s death on my conscience, so I’ll return you back to normal so long as you don’t try to attack me or keep me from killing Gasoline Family, alright?” The anger in Holiday’s voice had disappeared, now replaced by a more nonchalant attitude, though Ace knew that he probably hadn’t calmed down much.
With a sigh, Ace took a step towards the crater in front of him. “Well, alright then - catch me up on what exactly Gasoline Family does, and I’ll get to work.” Knowing that his life was in Holiday’s hands wasn’t very uplifting, but this could very well turn out to be in Ace’s advantage if he played it right, and if he showed Holiday how useful and cooperative he was to make him lower his guard and spill information.
Max wasn’t sure what to expect when Holiday first mentioned Gasoline Family and told him where to go, but now that he was here, at the center of the crater in which it resided, he could see just how intimidating the stand was. The crater was absolutely decimated - thick puddles of a liquid that seemed to be gasoline were spread around, many of which had already been ignited. Piles of scraps and soot were strewn around, and the smell of smoke was overwhelming. However, Holiday used his stand on him to give him resistance from the fires, which would help in the fight.
Well, if he wanted to get anything done, he’d have to actually get closer to the stand. He briefly glanced behind him, towards Holiday, and spotted someone else descending down the pit towards him, a man with a checkered suit and a bowler hat.
“Oh? Who’re you? Did Holiday get you to help out here as well?” Max asked nonchalantly. In response, Ace grinned and spoke. “I guess you could say so. The name’s Ace High.” Ace sounded quite calm, unphased by the dangerous stand at the center of the crater. “Huh, I see. I’m Max. Having anyone else around to help deal with this is nice.”
With a shrug, Ace took another step forward and spoke. “Heh, yeah - just make sure that you don’t get in my way, yeah? We just gotta get this over with quickly”. Max wasn’t sure if Ace was just cracking a joke of some kind or if he was belittling him. Either way, it slightly annoyed him.
“Oh yeah? Sure, sure, I’ll stay out of your way… But I’ll probably be done with it by the time you get close - and if you step in front of one of my attacks, it’s your fault, not mine.” Max responded. Dealing with Gasoline Family was of utmost importance, of course, but he did get a slight urge to try and outdo Ace.
“Hey, I’m just joking around, yeah?” Ace said, noticing the effect of his comment. This wasn’t entirely true - in his mind, the most important thing would be gathering information from Holiday, and performing impressively against Gasoline Family could help build trust between Holiday and him. To that end, Ace really would have preferred it if Max stayed out of his way. “And don’t just blindly rush that stand down, it’s not gonna help. That is, unless you’ve got a deathwish, of course.” Ace said, his comment doing nothing but further annoying Max.
The two men stood at the bottom of the crater, taking a look at the stand in front of them while preparing themselves for the fight ahead of both of them. It likely wouldn’t be easy, but neither of them was going to leave until the stand was dealt with and the fire raging in the scrapyard was finally extinguished.
OPEN THE GAME!
Location: A crater at the bottom of an abandoned scrapyard by the edge of the slums. Each tile is 4x4 meters, making the map 64x64 meters overall. The players are currently at the bottom of the crater, 8 meters deep into the ground. The grey border is the incline / drop from the outside to the crater into the crater itself, and it’s quite steep. The dark grey areas are the outside of the crater, and are inaccessible to the players. The light orange shapes surrounding the map are puddles of gasoline formed within depressions in the ground - these are roughly 0.2 meters deep, and are currently the only areas of the map capable of containing pools of gasoline deep enough for Gasoline Family to teleport to (though more might end up being formed as the match goes on).
The ground is a mixture of dirt, soot, and ruined pieces of (non-conductive) scrap. Despite the mess, Max is somehow still able to rollerskate around without much issue. The hollow circles are burning pieces of scrap (mainly tires), constantly emitting dense smoke. The area that the smoke obscures is represented by the transparent red circles. Piles of scrap (which also contain various pieces of conductive metal scraps of varying sizes) are littered around the area and are represented by the areas filled with various small light grey shapes, piling up to about a meter in height.
At the bottom right corner of the map is Modern Holiday, whose purpose is explained in the Additional Information section.
Goal: Make sure that you contribute more to the defeat of Gasoline Family than your opponent!
Additional Information: Gasoline Family’s sheet (and a shortened description of its ability) can be found here. Pastebin version here
For the purposes of this match, thanks to Sleep Apnea’s ability, the characters, their stands, and any and all gear that is on them, are functionally immune to any and all fire or heat damage, not even feeling it. Force from explosives can still be felt and smoke is still hazardous to breathing.
Modern Holiday has briefed both characters on Gasoline Family’s abilities, and on how it fights - In general, it will remain mostly quiet, sometimes punching an object near it out of frustration but otherwise staying still until someone gets close enough for it to fight them. Gasoline Family doesn't seem to be capable of very complex thoughts or of formulating involved plans, but it doesn't need that most of the time - its overwhelming power and durability grants it the edge it needs to win out in most direct encounters, but it also knows how to use its ability to grant itself an extra edge.
In close combat, Gasoline Family knows how to create and activate buttons in the environment around it to create explosions for extra damage, and even purposefully tears them off and utilizes the gasoline streams as projectiles should its opponent stay for too long outside of its range. In addition, it will attempt to advance towards any opponent that has gotten close and that is now trying to escape.
After taking enough damage, Gasoline Family will attempt to teleport away to the puddle that is furthest away from where it currently is. Put in numerical terms, this happens when it loses a fifth of its “health”, meaning that it will teleport four times over the course of the match. If no puddle is available, it will attempt to fill the “viable” pools with more gasoline using streams, and if any of them have been plugged up, then it will dig out more with its own two A pow hands. At any moment it will try to make sure that there’s at least two pools available and filled with gasoline, though more than that may form as the match goes on.
Modern Holiday is watching the match from the bottom left corner of the map, at the top of the scrap pile, and is willing to assist you out in a limited degree - he’s willing to use Sleep Apnea on any object tossed to him, and will toss you back the copy of it that the stand creates (without manipulating any property or aspect of it), which will be a stand object, and as such will be able to hurt Gasoline Family.
Should you try and leave the map or directly and knowingly attack Modern Holiday, he will simply refuse to return your bodies back to normal after the match and you will eventually freeze to death, just as Ace predicted. Same goes for attempting to kill your opponent - injuring them is allowed, but not to an extent where they wouldn’t be able to assist in the fight any more.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Sharp Lookers	Ace High	“M-Maybe the attacks weren't meant to hurt us... they were meant to douse us with gasoline!?” So you’re going to have to get rid of this stand before you can get any information from Modern Holiday, but that’s fine - you’ve handled worse in the past, and you can already think of a few ways to manipulate this situation to your advantage. During the match, make use of the environment and of the various stands within it!
Baker Street Rat Pack	Maxwell “Ten-Ten” Tenet	“He doused himself with the gasoline... He panicked, because you were going to finish him off!” You’re not sure how this whole situation got so crowded and messy, but dealing with Gasoline Family shouldn’t be too bad either way. In fact, this might even open up some new opportunities for you - During the match, make use of the environment and of the various stands within it!

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