[The Poll results are in, and it appears one viewer found you boring. You will have a disadvantage during your first event.]
[You have 5 Viewers, 0 Sponsors, 0 Showrunners, and no Chief Content Officer.]
[Additionally, you have 1 writer, 0 trainers, 0 content creators, and no storylines completed.]
[Poll results]
[Poll 2]
[Atlas class & appearance]
[Writer, red Kobold: 2]
[Trainer, fat Satyr: 1]
[Content Creator, small Gremlin: 1]
[Writer, red Kobold is the winner]
[Poll 3]
[Arena Match]
[Trial by Combat: 0]
[Royal Rumble: 3]
[The Super Smash Platformer: 2]
[Royal Rumble is the winner]
[Poll closed]
[A total of 9 votes has been cast, and the total lifetime votes of 15 have been cast.]
[May the outcome favor your strategy]
[Loading complete.]
The notifications hit me hard. It felt like a slap to the face. I was disoriented. One moment, I was talking to Atlas, as my normal self, the next moment, I’m dressed in Viking gear, mind you, the cultural appropriation version, not the historically accurate one. But most of all, I found myself on a platform suspended in the air, in the middle of what appeared to be a battle arena, like in an old gladiator movie. As I gained my bearings, I realized no one else was out with me, and the arena was packed. The members were chanting.
“Royal.”
“Rumble.”
“ROYAL.”
“RUMBLE.”
It became louder with each chant. My ears began to pound in unison with the crowd. And suddenly, I heard the familiar voice that was in my head; however, this time, it was booming in the arena like the voice was yelling through a high-powered PA system. This setup would have made no hell of a concert.
Stolen novel; please report.
[Welcome, Earthlings, to the Federation of Unionized Champions Kicking Ass, or as the rest of the galaxy calls it—FUCKA! And boy, do we have one hell of a match-up tonight. As we celebrate cycle 100, this will be our biggest spectacle yet!]
The wave of energy almost knocked me over. Everyone in the arena was shouting, and as I looked closer, I saw that most of the participants in the arena weren’t human. I was pretty sure I didn’t see one human. The only thing I could compare the sight to was a bigger version of the Cantina scene in the original Star Wars film. My jaw dropped in awe of the arena, and I was smack dab in the middle of it all.
Well, this is just great. Where the hell is Atlas?
[To kick off this insane event, I want to introduce you to the new Creative Director of FUCKA.]
A heavy guitar riff played throughout the arena, and on the huge jumbotron in the middle had the word Xtreme in gold letters, followed by a huge explosion and a boxing glove that was glowing with blue energy of some type.
[The awesome, amazing, and cinematic—Alex Xtreme.]
I watched as a figure slowly walked on the far side of the arena. I glanced up at the Jumbotron and saw that he was a normal-looking human with short blonde hair. He appeared to be a boxer, and he was waving at the crowd as if he’d done this a million times. He reminded me of little Mac from Punch-Out.
Another freaking human. I need to talk to him and get myself out of this mess. He stopped in mid-stride and held a microphone up to his mouth. Unfortunately, he was nowhere close to my platform. I peered around the arena and realized that my platform must have moved at some point, because I wasn’t in the middle of the arena anymore. I shook my head in frustration.
[Welcome, everyone, to FUCKA! As the new Creative Director, this season will be different from any other. Tonight, as we welcome Earth to our great Federation, we will watch 30 Earthlings fight for their very lives. Yes, you heard that right. Not 10. Not 20. But 30 will fight for the goal of being Earth’s champion. Only one will be victorious, and the rest will die! Yes, that’s right, this season we will focus on Earth and appreciate all of its culture. I want to remind everyone to tune into our pre- and post-show programming so that you understand everything about the new, most volatile planet in our awesome Federation.]
“Alex, awesome!”
“Alex, awesome!" The crowd chanted, cutting off the director. He held his microphone down, waiting for the noise to dissipate, all with a smile on his face. Something about his smile seemed off, but I couldn’t put words to it.
[Thank you, thank you. Our recruiters have scourged the Earth for 30 participants that will entertain, enlighten, and enthrall us all. We have athletes, gamers, and ordinary humans.]
Suddenly a spotlight shone on me. It was bright, and the light was hotter than I expected.
[Entry #1 Gallagher, for example. As most of you saw on the telecast, he has the disadvantage of being entry #1. No one in FUCKA history has won from the 1 spot. Will he be the exception? Let’s give the human something special, how about a Power Vote for our dear friend Gallagher.]
A massive cheer erupted.
[Everyone knows the rules. Every three minutes, a new entry enters the match, and the ring gets a little smaller. The last one in the ring is the winner and will get a post-show interview. They will also get a loot box to help them in their pursuit of becoming Earth’s champion.]
Alex threw both hands up in the air.
[Everyone! We are in a new era. It’s the era of the viewer.]
He threw the mic, and the music played again as Alex walked back from wherever he came. It was impossible to tell with the light set on me. I watched the Jumbotron.
[Ten]
[Nine]
It was counting down.
[Eight]
The platform I was on moved to the middle of the arena as the light followed me. Suddenly the platform morphed into a wrestling ring; however, it was about fifty yards, if I were to guess the exact size of the space. I took a deep breath as the timer counted down. The rumble was about to begin.
[Zero]
[May the outcome favor your strategy]
Where the fuck is Atlas when I need him?
Trevor S Wells | Patreon
Power Vote
