Interviews: 8chanmania x MFW - IN/V/ASION

As part of a deal with the mysterious Office Oni, Manny Pardo held a chain of interviews with each wrestlers, asking the fighters from each matchup of the preliminaries about their specific motivations for entering the ring, as well as what they thought of their respective opponent.

SAM HYDE vs LALA

The room was barely lit. The few lights the room had were in various states of decay- some already broken, others too old and smudged to provide more than a scant amber glow. That would have made navigating the vortex of clutter lining the otherwise purposeless space essentially impossible, but that may have been the point. The effect was palpable, giving the room an ominous air- remnants of what was probably once a nice office space, with dead plants still rotting in their pots, scattered chips of broken glass and plaster and paint ill-fitting to the room’s windowless and plain wooden walls, empty cardboard boxes covered in scattered papers that used to mean something, their ink flecked away by dust and time alike.

The eye of that storm was fairly clean, occupied by a long and nearly empty rectangular table, mahogany sitting at about waist height. It looked big enough to seat twenty, but instead there were only three chairs, all fairly close together, forming a rough triangle about one of the table’s heads. All three of those chairs were full; the person facing inwards from the short edge was a blond-haired man with violently green eyes and a shadow of facial hair lining his chin and chops, which was made to look something like a mask by the ill-maintained light. To that his left sat another man, who was chubby and jovial, face marked with a nice little moustache, wearing glasses. To his right was an unconscious headless woman with blue skin, or at least she seemed to be unconscious. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell, considering the circumstances.

“Headless prom day,” said the chubby man, slaughtering any hypothetical tension the setting could have possibly generated. “Sam, I haven’t even woken you up yet, what’s going on here?” the blond man asked. They’d done practice run after practice run and nothing like this had ever happened. “I’m the one asking the questions here,” Hyde huffed, “now how do I claim my winnings?”

“Only one way to handle this, then.” The blond man snapped his fingers. The headless woman flailed awake, grabbing at air until her hands found the table, pulling her torso to lean on it heavily. That was how things were ‘’supposed’’ to go- everyone woke up at the same time, panicking, except of course the guy running the show.

“Question one, dude,” Sam said, “Where am I?” “Not entirely sure,” the blond man admitted, “Boss convinced the rooster to hand over his roost. I guess he retired after ‘’that day’’, God knows what he’s up to now.” “Actually, uh, I don’t, thank you. Question two, what does it do?” Sam asked. “Also not sure, but it seems to be able to-“ he shut his mouth and took a moment to recompose. “Shut up, Sam.” “You can’t silence the truth,” Sam said, “three U.S. servicemen died to make sure this interview could happen,”

The blond man ignored those comments, given that any retort would further derail the conversation. Not much point asking Sam anything anyway. Instead, he turned to the other wrestler, who was now sitting politely with her hands folded on her lap. “Lala, can you hear me? Thumbs up for yes, thumbs down for no.” The blue woman’s shoulders turned to square off and she gave him a thumbs up- an indubitable yes, no matter how many metaphysical rules she was breaking to manage it. The boss hadn’t been sure either way, so that was a bit of a saving grace.

“We’ll skip to question two, then.” He said, “Are you being threatened?” The blue woman shifted in her seat uncomfortably, eventually giving him a thumbs down. Based on everything he knew, the girl owed as much to the hostage as any of their own wrestlers, so a ‘no’ made things much more complicated than they might have hoped- and to make things worse, he couldn’t pry very hard without giving up their game. Unless, and it was a gamble, but- “Ignore that last question, I misspoke.” He said, “Is ‘’he’’ being threatened?” “When’s my question?” Sam asked, and was thoroughly ignored. Lala, for her part, was very nearly quivering. She began to put her thumb up, but instead she left it about half way, wavering in the air. “Not threatened. In danger?” The blond man asked, “No. She already took him hostage?” Lala finally put her thumb up. Her quivering intensified, and he realized she wasn’t nervous or upset- she was furious. That was fine, since he was too. Everything the boss had said about the person in question made bringing him into this sound like throwing a toddler in with a den of wolves. It just wasn’t fair play.

“That ‘’bitch’’,” he growled. “We’d known that you and the other girl both ended up on their side of things, but to think she had gone this far… That in mind, I’d rather not bother you any more,” he said, looking over to Sam, “but I do have one more question. For the both of you. What do you think of the other wrestler?”

Lala brought a hand up and let it hang in the air, waving it in a distinctly ‘so-so’ manner. “Three outta ten, wouldn’t bang,” Sam answered, matter-of-fact. Lala promptly changed her so-so gesture to dragging a thumb through her nonexistent throat.

“Well then,” the blond man said, “one way or another I guess this’ll end up in a cemetery.”

Both wrestlers vanished. Alone now, he looked down at his hands. They were twitching, agitated, for the first time in a long time. He squeezed them shut tight, and after a moment, the sensation went away. Exhaling a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the blond man closed his eyes, And waited.

SLY MARBO vs MATANGO

“You…” the blond man wheezed, “are lucky I can take a punch.” The errant soldier slammed him a good one in the gut within a few seconds of waking up; it was impressive enough that the man had managed reach so far, and even more impressive that he managed to pack some hurt behind the blow at that distance and angle. The second significant power the room had over its guests was to ensure they couldn’t leave their seat under normal circumstances- everyone had their part in the play, and there was only one way to leave the stage. At least, there had been only one way, now? It was a bit more like two or three. After all, the goal was to interview the wrestlers, not kill them off. The other team’s rep, a mushroom girl, seemed to be enjoying his general discomfort, while the soldier stared him dead in the eyes silently. He tried to say something else, but before he could even make a sound the soldier’s mouth shot open.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,” the soldier said, and the blond man shrank back, covering his ears desperately with his hands. Dazed, he concluded that the interview was more or less already over, at least judging by the way the mushroom girl was now pretending to be an actual mushroom, stock-still with glazed-over eyes and some creative posing.

At the same time, whether it was over or not, he needed to ask the damn questions; the more information they had, the better. Desperate, the blond man decided to leverage another of the room’s powers. Luckily enough, he shouldn’t even need to say anything to make it work. He flicked his hand through the air, conjuring many blessings in his mind, but when he braced for impact, nothing came. Before, he’d gotten up to about a fifty-fifty chance of inflicting the consequences on himself versus on his target, but now? Nothing at all.

He tried again, waving his hand through the air more emphatically, as though the first attempt simply hadn’t been dramatic enough, but again nothing happened. Every moment he spent with an ear uncovered was both cruel and disorienting. “Why the HELL isn’t this working?” He shouted, trying over and over more desperately.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,” the soldier answered elegantly. The blond man blinked a few times, desperately thinking back to his notes.

“You can’t be serious!” He screamed back, “Marbo, you’ve been through thousands of campaigns and you’ve ‘’never’’ died!? Not even once?”

“AAAAA, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.” Marbo responded, though any inflection or approximation at speech was most likely a figment of the imagination. Actually, given what the blond man had read of him, Marbo’s approximate immortality wasn’t a massive surprise. It did made leveraging the room a lot harder, and more importantly, meant that asserting control over the interview that way was nearly impossible. He definitely wasn’t getting back in punching distance, and since that was his only other reasonable alternative, the reins were completely loose.

“Fuck it,” the blond man said, “MATANGO, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” The mushroom woman didn’t budge in any way. “IF I ASK QUESTIONS, WILL EITHER OF YOU ANSWER? PLEASE?” He yelled, desperate. Marbo seemed to scream louder.

“BOSS, ANY HELP HERE?” At this point, it felt like he was stuck pleading at 90DBs, which couldn’t be good for his vocal cords.

An airhorn dropped from an undisclosed location down to the table. The blond man scooted forward, carefully avoiding Sly Marbo’s death circle, and snagged it. He honked it a few times, but quickly realized that it was just a normal airhorn. He couldn’t even hear its sound over the wrestler’s incessant screaming. “I’M SOMETHING YOU’LL NEVER-“ he honked the horn fruitlessly in the middle of his sentence, more out of frustration than hope anything would actually happen, “UNDERSTAND?” he finished, and then the wrestlers were gone.

“I hope that doesn’t become a trend,” he murmured to himself, chucking the airhorn off onto one of the piles of garbage littering the now-quiet room.

DEMI-FIEND vs HELLHOUND

This time the wrestlers were an ashen-skinned dog girl who was hypothetically wearing clothes, and a shirtless man absolutely covered in tattoos. Together, they were showing more skin than all the other combatants thus far combined. The blond man took in a deep breath and snapped his fingers.

Dog girl moved first, swinging around in her chair, trying to get up. She was laser-focused on the other wrestler, who was hardly reacting at all- he opened his eyes, sitting silently. When it became clear she couldn’t leave her seat, or even seemingly move that seat around, she began to growl.

“What is this?” She asked, throat rumbling. “an Interview,” the blond man answered. “I’ll be asking you and him some questions.” “You don’t get to ask ‘’me’’ anything,” she said, still struggling with her chair ineffectually. He turned away from her and looked to the other person, tugging at his shirt-collar; the room seemed to be getting hotter by the second.

“I, uh, hello?” he said, trying to remember what the notes had told him about this particular wrestler. After that last interview, his brain was completely scrambled. Something about names?

“The name’s Manny Pardo, and you are?” He waited patiently, but no response came, nor did any recognition light up in the man’s eyes. The utter apathy was mildly unnerving, actually; most of the time you could trust people to at least pretend to care when you gave them your name. “Huh,” he said, “you were a lot more talkative on paper. Look, I’m supposed to ask, ‘Why have you been chosen’? That mean anything to you?”

‘’YES.’’

“And that’s my cue to move on.” He turned back the Hellhound.

“Question two, what’s it like being a pet?” Manny asked, bracing for impact. The question was more that a bit dangerous to ask a Hellhound, to say the least, and people who greeted Hellhounds and danger in the same sentence tended to get ‘burned’. The Hellhound’s growl deepened and her face twisted with rage, her chair bucking ever so slightly as she tried to leap at him- but the raw fury left as quickly as it came, and then she was calm, almost smiling.

“Silly boy,” she said, voice heavy with smug, “I serve no one.” She straightened in her seat, eyes never leaving his, and then she leaned ever so slightly forwards, provoking delightful jiggle. “No, I am here because I was told there would be many good men to ‘’eat’’.” As if to prove the point, she looked him up and down. Manny scooted his chair back a smidge, uncomfortable. The room felt like it was sweltering. “Alright then, question answered, let’s get on to-“

“Is that arousal I smell?” She said, leaning even further towards him. He tried not to take note of her now totally free-hanging bust, “and you’re sweating so fiercely, too.” “Oh God, I need a towel,” Manny said, “let’s not talk about this,” The dog-girl inhaled deep, a wolfish grin playing across her face. “It’s a bit late for talk,” she said, “I’ve got your scent now. No matter how far you go…”

“Interview over!” Manny said, “Question three, what do you think of the other wrestler,” “I don’t,” she said, “but I’ll be thinking of you.”

Demi-Fiend didn’t say shit, which wasn’t helpful in the slightest. If anything, he seemed moderately disgusted. Manny frantically waved his hands and scooted his chair further away, panicking a bit. The wrestlers vanished and he realized after a few good minutes that he was still sweating- and that, in fact, the room hadn’t been warm at all, it was just him.

“Man,” he panted, “did they have to have one that was ‘’exactly’’ my type?”

KIRYU vs HIGH ORC

The Asian man in a sharp suit wriggled in his seat, patting at his belt and hip, most likely searching for the weapons Manny confiscated prior. The big chocolate-skinned girl stomped at the ground, trying desperately to lift herself into the air. Neither wrestler seemed to have any inclination towards calming down on their own. “I’ve been where you sat,” Manny said, “and struggling doesn’t make this any prettier.”

At that both wrestlers stilled, turning to stare at him. Nodding, he continued. “I’ve got a couple of questions for you. The quicker you get me answers, the faster you’ll be out of here.” Apparently that was enough incentive to convince them to behave for at least a little while - the girl fluttered her fluffy ears and scooting back into her seat and the Asian man fixing his suit and sitting up straighter, letting his hands resting easy on his lap.

“Where is this? Where’s Ouya?” he asked, looking perplexed. ‘Oh, we’re ‘’somewhere’’ in Hell’s version of Miami,’ probably wouldn’t fly with people who expected to be out wrestling in a completely different dimension, so Manny decided against humoring that question. The other, though?

“Who’s Ouya?” Manny asked.

A white-haired young girl fell onto the table with a gentle thud, curled up in a ball. She looked around, surprised, and her face lit up when she saw the Asian man. His did too, his generally severe expression breaking for a brief smile. The girl, presumably Ouya, rolled off of the table and into his embrace. “It was so scary when you vanished, what’s going on?” she asked, and he patted her head calmingly. “It’s okay,” he said, “I think it’s just an interview.”

“That it is.” An interview with an unexpected guest, thanks boss, but still an interview. “Question number one,” Manny said, “Kiryu, why do you fight?”

Kiryu blinked at him. “for family,” he said, glancing down at Ouya, “and Family, but today? For a hero.” He closed his eyes, thinking of his daughters’ newfound happiness and all the wonderful things that day had brought them, thoughts wandering to the man himself, the reason he’d returned at all- the hostage. If Kiryu lost, and nobody else picked up the slack, their joy could be snatched away in an instant.

“Good answer. Question two is for you,” Manny said, turning to look at the other wrestler. “High Orc, what are you getting out of this?”

“Ansha want to love, be loved,” the High Orc said sorrowfully, directing a glare at Kiryu and Ouya, “same way that man get. Ansha so alone. Duchess promise to fix.” She’d never had a world, or much attention sent her way- she was only tentatively and briefly loved, never truly allowed to be real. She looked to Manny, her eyes full of dreams of adoring fans and a family of her own. He couldn’t hold that gaze.

“For both of you.” Manny said, staring at his hands. They were shaking. “What do you think of the other wrestler?”

“Rip him to shreds!” said High Orc, her voice suddenly vicious “he fight, he the enemy of me and mine!” Ouya shrunk back at the outburst and Kiryu hugged her a bit tighter, leaning forward. “No one will take my life from me.” He turned to Manny, and Manny caught the steel in his eyes. “I’m done with this.”

Manny shrugged. “And I’m out of questions. Godspeed,” he said, waving a hand. Then he was alone, both wrestlers and Ouya spirited away. He looked back to his hands and began to work them, squeezing and stretching, patiently working them back to normalcy.

ANIKI vs ALP

This match didn’t seem fair. To one side, the manliest man Manny had ever seen, who was also shirtless. There seemed to be a lot of that going around these days. To the other, what looked like a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman, with alarmingly skimpy clothes- she wasn’t shirtless, but with the amount of midriff she was showing off, she might as well have been.

Manny took a moment to compose himself and snapped his fingers.

“uuuaAAh,” the big man said, pulling himself awake. He looked around the room and gave Manny a mighty side-eye. “Hey there, guy.” “Morning, uh, ‘Aniki’?” He answered, “not really sure what you go by these days.” “That’s the one,” Aniki confirmed, “are you hopping in the ring?”

Manny shook his head. “Not gonna be me, you’re wrestling that quivering girl over there.”

Aniki turned to give the other wrestler a good once-over and chuckled. “I think you got fooled,” he said, “that’s a guy if I’ve ever seen one.” “I’m a girl!” The little thing said, “A girl!”

Manny couldn’t help but balk at that. That sort of response was utterly antithetical to the very nature of the creature, at least judging by his notes and the boss’ comments on the matter.

“Whatever you say little man,” Aniki frowned. “This isn’t quite what I expected when I signed up.” “Don’t worry too much about that,” Manny said, “if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few hours, it’s that it only gets weirder from here.”

“Wait,” the girl who was crossdressing as a guy but insisted she was a girl said, “w-why ‘’am’’ I here?” “For an interview,” he answered matter-of-fact, “before you wrestle. Let’s begin, then.”

He turned to Aniki. “Question one, do you have anything you want to say to the good people watching?” Aniki’s frown vanished and his face fell back into an easy, natural grin. “That’s not much of a question, of course I do.” He sat forward, hands clasped tight. “There is no limit to what men can achieve. We know it to be true; not long ago, a lone risk-taker did something in one fell swoop that thousands have died fighting for, sacrificing his chance to have or be anything he might have imagined in his wildest dreams. Instead, he made us ‘’live better’’, or for a few of us, live at all.” His eyes hardened with a tinge of rare anger. “That man has been taken, and not in a good way. It’s up to us to prove we really learned something from his intervention.” “Can we get him back?” he said, “Is the weight too much to bear?” He sat back, shaking his head. The motion made his pecs ripple admirably. “Those are dumb questions. If you find yourself worrying, even for only a moment, remember these immortal words:”

ASS WE CAN

Something in his voice as he said those words made Manny’s spine tingle, a sensation he pointedly ignored. Getting taken in too strongly by the pull of Aniki’s speech might jeopardize certain parts of his sanctity that he wasn’t especially willing to give up.

“Very good,” he said, “this time it’s a question for you, Alp.” He opened his mouth to speak- but stopped. The question they had prepared before was working on the assumption that the Alp was behaving like an Alp, not a confused succubus with tomboyish tendencies. “uh, why do you wear vaguely masculine clothes?” he adlibbed, hoping that would be enough to provoke some kind of response. “I… don’t remember?” the Alp said. “Wait, I am?” Which was even stranger. Surely, a demon so closely in tune with certain elements of the human psyche would know better- unless…

“Wait, does the name ‘Duchess’ mean anything to you?” He asked. “Who?” the Alp looked puzzled. “If you’re not here for that,” he said, “then why are you wrestling?” “Daddy said that good girls wrestle!” The Alp smiled, suddenly excited, “and I’m a good girl!”

That left essentially one option - mind control. There was no other way to so thoroughly break a person’s, or in this case monster’s, identity, and no amount of investigation had led to any such ‘daddy’-figure being revealed. Still, was there no depth to which the Duchess would not sink?

“I’ve heard enough,” he said, “let’s get this thing finished. Question three: what do you think of the other wrestler?” “He looks strong!” The Alp said, “I hope I can win!” “Some weird ponce,” Aniki said, looking over to Manny, “never mind him, do you think you’d be up for a rumble later?”

“Have a nice fight,” Manny said, waving his hand frantically until the wrestlers finally disappeared from the room. He shivered; that was yet another person to avoid when he was on his way home. His thoughts drifted back to Aniki’s last words, a strange sense of hope building; it was even enough to drive back some of his building discomfort.

A massive baby face pushed its way through the wall. “Oh,” it said, “Is Aniki already gone?” “Jesus fuck!” Manny answered politely, putting his chair between him and the intruder in short order. He couldn’t stop searching for a gun he already knew wasn’t there. Frowning, the baby face slid back through the wall. It vanished with a gentle ‘pop’; Manny refused to let his eyes drift from that spot, and there he stayed, crouched behind a wooden chair and staring at the wall.

TEAGAN vs SALAMANDER

This was the first fight with two female wrestlers, Manny couldn’t help but note. In their corner they had a short-haired tan girl with mean calves and biceps, while in MFW’s there was a tomboyish warrior-lizard woman dressed in hardly anything at all. He’d tucked her tail behind her chair awkwardly to keep her from smacking anyone when she woke up, and along with testing the room for flammability, it somehow passed with flying colors, this was the most precautions he’d taken for any of the wrestlers. “Alright,” he said, “wake up.”

To his surprise, they did. The tan girl woke up and glared at the lizard-woman; she returned the favor, her tail slapping against the ground with a ‘’thunk’’ and lighting up like a christmas tree made out of gasoline and nitroglycerin. The room began heating up almost immediately, and he was pretty sure it actually was the temperature changing this time around.

“You can relax,” he said, “this is a pre-fight interview.” “I never signed,” the tan girl said, “I’m not here for some dumb pageant.”

Manny shrugged, ignoring the frustration building in the back of his head. She didn’t want to do an interview? With him? “Teagan, a bit of showmanship’s part of the gig,” he said. She didn’t seem convinced, so he finished, “but this does serve another purpose. Roll with it, please.” Teagan’s eyebrows perked up at that, but before she could speak the lizard-woman interrupted.

“Hurry and let me out of this chair,” she hissed, “so I can beat her up.” “That’s not happening,” Manny said soothingly, “just cool off for a minute and we can get these pleasantries out of the way.” “But she looks like so much fun,” the lizard-woman said, “I ‘’need’’ this fight,”

At that Teagan crossed her arms over her chest. “Bring it on, bitch,” she said, “but don’t expect to be able to stand afterwards.” Which made the lizard-woman squirm in her seat, visible steam roiling off her body. “Not helping, Teagan,” Manny sighed.

“Why?” She frowned, “and why do you keep looking over at that wall?” She turned to follow his gaze. “It looks pretty normal to me.” Manny repressed a shiver. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, “it’s not a very good idea to antagonize a Salamander that way.” Teagan’s frown deepened. “What do you mean? She looks puny, I’ll beat her ass so hard she won’t-”

The Salamander moaned loudly. Teagan froze mid-sentence, stunned, and when she finally put two and two together, blanched. “Oh.” “Question one time,” Manny said, “Teagan, who’s your best friend?”

Teagan took a moment to recoup and shut her eyes. “Alto,” she said, “it’s like a dream come true.” They did far more than simply repair their relationship, they’d practically saved the world in the process. Ever since the event, that hell of their own making had become a long distant memory, a nightmare fading slowly with time. She couldn’t imagine going back- every time she thought losing it all was a mere ‘’possibility’’, the pit in her stomach grew heavier, along with her rage in kind.

“Keep that feeling close, friends can be all that you have.” Manny said. He wondered how a certain journalist was doing around now, and whether or not they would have been so close without intervention. Not that it mattered, given the ultimate fate of his entire city if the mission failed.

“Question two, Salamander, what is your best trait?” At this point they already knew enough about the who, where, and why she was here; the Duchess probably just snagged her and said there would be a bunch of strong people to fuck.

The Salamander was busy clawing at her face, but after a moment, she answer “I’m very good with my tail.” She pulled it up off the ground and waved it around, bits of char flicking across the floor. Then she started to do a strange thrusting motion with the far end, looking pointedly at the other (increasingly uncomfortable) wrestler in the room. “’’Very’’ good with my tail,”

“Okay,” he said, “let’s just get you two out of here. Question three, what do you think of the other wrestler?”

“Going to destroy her,” Teagan said, refusing to make eye contact with him or the lizard. “I can’t wait,” said the Salamander, and from the way her expression was melting it looked like she meant it. The steam seemed to be getting worse by the minute. He wondered if Salamanders could even sweat, and promptly aborted that train of thought.

“Alright,” Manny said, “get out.” He waved them away, and the fighters vanished. He went back to staring at the wall. Just because nothing popped up yet didn’t mean nothing would.

BANE vs DRAGON

Manny was sorely tempted to leave these wrestlers unconscious. Instead of a guy in a suit or an uncomfortably exhibitionistic monstergirl, he was greeted by giants- the both of whom spilled out of their chairs like an ocean spills from a pint. To his left, the legendary Masked Man towered easily a foot over his head, and he wasn’t even sitting up straight yet. To his right, a lady with scales, winglets, and a preposterous stature almost as tall as her opponent’s. At the same time, the silence was nearly as dreadful as the prospect of waking them, he could already feel agitated tremors running up and down his arms, so he banished his reluctance. Manny couldn’t afford to be sent back now, certainly not due to dereliction of duty, or other things.

He snapped his fingers, waking the wrestlers. For such big creatures, they were surprisingly tame; they began to size the other up, quietly stretching to their full height. Long moments passed with nothing but a staring contest between them.

“Let’s get this over with, you two.” Manny said, which drew their attention his way. He spotted a strange and discomforting tinge of humor enter their eyes, both of their expressions shifting in almost precisely the same way. They heard him, sure, but they weren’t impressed. They went back to staring at each-other without giving him so much as a word beside, as if forgetting he’d spoken at all.

“What’s your name?” asked the Masked Man. The dragon-lady covered a smile with her hand, bashful. “You may call me Gyo,” she answered. Manny could have sworn the dragon-lady was marked ‘Imoogi’, but neither wrestler seemed to care much about what he thought, so he didn’t bother to interject. The Masked Man’s eyes crinkled into a rare smile of his own. “Gyo, then. Do you have any plans?”

Manny wasn’t going to let things derail quite so quickly. “You can flirt,” he growled, “once you are done here, and done with the ring.” The big man turned to him, glowering. “Do you feel in charge, little man?”

As a matter of fact, he did. He was Manny Pardo, and Manny Pardo would get the respect he deserved. He waved a hand and the Masked Man’s chest burst into flame; the blow tipped his chair backwards, flaming corpse still seated cleanly within. It wasn’t a pleasant way to go, but it was a fast one, and Manny felt a cathartic surge of satisfaction roll up his spine. He wondered if the rooster had ever felt that way, or if this was just his own damage doing the thinking for him. The lizard bitch shrieked, but he ignored her, waving his hand again. An instant later, the chair was back to normal and its inhabitant was wide-eyed, but otherwise untouched. “That’s question one, Bane.” Manny said, “Do you feel in charge?”

Bane just stared at him with silent fury for a long while, but whatever it was he wanted to say, he bit it back. “I stopped being in charge the day Gotham was freed.” The city grew so beautiful in the wake of the grand finale, he could not have imagined it before. His own machinations, his greatest effort to solve the very root of the problem had failed- but that one man succeeded, bringing justice to his world and asking no evils in return. “Now, though? Someone must stoke the flames.” he finished.

“Question two, Gyo. What do you fear?” Manny asked. The dragon-lady snarled at him, blatantly upset with his behavior, as if he had done something unwarranted. He decided not to humor the fact that his behavior actually probably had been unwarranted, faking surprise. “I fear nothing,” Gyo said, “especially not ‘’you’’, little man.”

Manny shrugged. When he didn’t do anything else, she began to speak again, but even as she let free the words, her fury subsided into cold realization. “I fear nothing, except, to be alone?” What else had the Duchess had promised her? Hundreds of servants who would not seek to escape her, fans who would not leave her if she grew angry and torrid, and a husband that would not fear her size or strength. At that thought, she looked over at Bane and frowned, sudden mixed feelings roiling in her gut. He was standing in the way of that, wasn’t he?

Satisfied, Manny nodded. “Question three, for both of you. What do you think of the other wrestler?” “He’s a big guy,” “She’s a big girl,” they said in unison, staring hard at each-other. “but I will save the man who achieved the thing I never could,” finished Bane. “but prey does not get to choose its own destiny,” the Dragon growled.

“Sounds like there’s only one way out of this,” Manny said, and then the wrestlers disappeared, carried away like smoke in the wind.

CIRNO vs MECHA CIRNO

“IT’S ME! BUT METAL!” shouted the aqua-haired fairy. It was easily the fastest reaction so far, the sound of her excitement drowning out that of the snap Manny used to wake her. She thrashed about in her seat reaching frantically for her robot clone, leaning far across the table, as if touching making contact was an absolute necessity. It was adorable, but at the same time the mecha-fairy hadn’t so much as moved, and since she was working for a feasibly genocidal hostage-taking maniac, he suspected that it was probably for the best that the room was keeping the two of them plenty far apart.

He waited patiently, ignoring the agitated fairy noises, until finally her mechanical counterpart’s eye ports lit up, emitting a vague red glow. “’’It is me, but stupid,’’” she said. Her voice was monotone, devoid of any surprise or emotion. Clearly, she had been listening in while she was still ‘off’.

At that the fairy stopped struggling with her chair, eventually falling back into it, arms crossed. “I’m not stupid, you’re stupid,” she said, pouting. The mecha mimicked the gestures as best as a robot might, sliding her arms over each-other and dimming her eye ports. “’’I bet you cannot even divisionate’’.” “O-of course I can!,” the fairy stuttered.

She started to say something else, but Manny rapped on the table loudly. They both turned to face him, though for the robot that was mostly just a swiveling of her head, the rest of her body impressively still. “You can settle that dispute in the ring, girls,” he said, “I’ve got some questions to ask you.”

“Who are you?" I’m Cirno, and I-“ The fairy said, her poor mood forgotten almost instantly. “...am the strongest. I know who you are, so settle down.” Manny finished the thought. That sent her right straight back to pouting.

“’’Ha-ha-ha. You got told. maybe if you were not so stupid...’’” the robot said, but her sentence cut when the whole room began to shake. Head swivelling left and right, she tried to find the source, but eventually her eye ports came to rest on Manny. He relaxed his hands and exhaled a deep breath. The shaking stopped; he wasn’t sure whether or not the room responding more sensitively to him was a good thing, but at least in this case, it paid off. Cirno was silent, looking at him wide eyed, while the mecha seemed to be back on guard.

“As I was saying, questions. First is for you, Cirno. What’s your favorite thing about being the strongest?” he asked. At that Cirno held a finger to her chin, falling deep into what must have been highly complex and deep thoughts. She loved the danmaku, being the best at danmaku, and come to think of it, she loved all the friends she had made ever since she started winning all the time. So many friends, ever since that day. “My favorite…” She said, blinking strength juice away from her eyes. She tried to finish her sentence, but for some reason, she couldn’t get the words out. “It’s alright, Cirno,” Manny gave her a sad smile. “That’s good enough.”

He turned to the robot. “Question two, mechaCirno, when was your last factory reset?” The robot went stiff, or even more stiff given the generally rigid state of her body, and her eye ports flicked off. “’’This unit has been active for’’ 12:16:53:40:80 ‘’since last factory reset.’’” she said. When she finished speaking, her eye ports flicked back on. “’’Whatever I just told you was a slanderiferous untruth and not at all representative of real things.’’”

Win one for instruction manuals and a lazy Duchess, that was an out-of-the-box command. That meant that she’d only spent about thirteen days building up her team. “Don’t worry yourself over that, just answer question three. What do you think of the other wrestler?”

“’’She will’’ lose.” They replied in unison. “No, you will, you big dumb copy!” Cirno shouted, already back to being chipper. “’’You are inferior in every metaric,’’” MechaCirno said, dragging faux fingertips across metal anatomy. Manny figured most of the ‘metarics’ she meant were totally irrelevant, given that surely no one would be crazy enough to actually try to ‘’assess’’ a machine in that way.

“Yeah, well you’re not even a fairy!” Cirno replied, strident. MechaCirno emitted a sharp sine wave; it took him a minute to realize that it was most likely supposed to be a gasp. “’’Take that’’ back!’’” The robot said; her mechanical voice inflecting strangely, breaking the fairly even monotone she’d maintained so far. “Not-a-fairy! Not-a-fairy! Not-a-fairy!” Cirno chanted, clearly excited to find something that could get under her opponent’s silicon skin. Unfortunately, it started getting under his skin, too, at least after a straight minute of chanting and W*nd*ws boot noises. Manny cradled his head in his hands and finally gave up waiting for the duo to ever stop long enough he could send them off properly.

“I don’t believe in fairies,” he said, and both wrestlers vanished unceremoniously.

He sat there in silence for a good while, thinking over this interview. Had he always been this easy to bother? Was he just out of practice? In the end he concluded it was probably the fault of the interviewees he’d had thus far more than anything. Naturally, it couldn’t have been his fault, he was just overthinking things. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, patiently waiting for the next pair, and hoping they would be at least slightly less obnoxious.

KENJI vs RIN KAENBYOU

This time around the wrestlers seemed like they were of the reasonable sort, to his relief. The cat-girl was well-dressed, a young woman or a fairly mature teenager unremarkable besides her spare pair of tails and the cat ears sitting not far above her human ones. The boy was about the same age and he was lanky, dressed in an off-green uniform and draped in an oversized scarf to match his oversized glasses. Manny snapped his fingers, hopeful.

“Whuua?” The boy shook himself awake, perfectly calm until he opened his eyes and locked on to the girl sitting across the table from him. “Drugged!” he shouted, flailing about “Drugged by a spy!” The noise woke the other wrestler from her stupor; she blinked at him and cocked her head, perplexed by the way he was freaking the fuck out.

“Calm down, kid.” Manny said, “She’s not the reason you’re here, I am.” He decided not to mention that his boss, the person actually responsible for getting the boy into the ring was, in fact, a woman. It just didn’t seem appropriate.

The boy turned to look his way, giving him a wary side-eye past his glasses. “Are you one of them?” “I’m not one of ‘them’ and I have no idea to whom ‘them’ could be referring. I’m just here to ask you some questions.” “Questions! I knew it! You ‘’are’’ a spy!” The boy exclaimed. He leaned back, crossing his arms under his scarf. “I don’t negotiate with traitors.” “I’m not-“ Manny said, but he cut that thought short. There was no point arguing, he’d questioned these types before. “Alright yeah you do have a point. I don’t need you to believe me, but I’m on your side. Just let me ask the questions, only answer if you’re comfortable.”

The boy raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Manny took that as tacit permission to continue and nodded. “Question one is for you, Kenji, how have you been lately?”

Kenji scowled. “How do you know my name? Very nice, though, thank you for asking.” Thanks to the anomaly, he’d been enjoying plenty of time hanging out with his best friend and it made his days an awful lot more bearable. As an added bonus, he hadn’t so much as spotted a woman ever since it occurred. Actually, they hadn’t informed him he would have to get up-close and personal with the feminine sort again to serve the cause. It wasn’t that his decision to join up would have changed, of course- this suffering was necessary, but rather it was the lack of trust that stung.

Manny smiled. Sure, the kid was a bit strange, but these wrestlers seemed to be turning out much more pleasant after all. “Good to hear. Now for you, Rin,” he turned to the cat-girl, “what did she promise you?” It was a bit on the nose, but from what he could tell from all his digging that wouldn’t be a problem.

Rin beamed back at him, suddenly excited. “Oh, that’s easy! Everyone dead!”

He froze. “I’m sorry, come again?”

Rin’s smile ran away from her face as she twiddled her thumbs. “Well, not dead, she just said she would bring me lots and lots of bodies…” She cocked her head again, thinking. “I love carrying bodies, you know?” Then the grin was back as quickly as it had left, a radiant, beaming smile rooted from speaking about subject matter that only a youkai could enjoy; Manny had carried around plenty of bodies in his day but he’d never been quite this chipper about it. Still, this was bad for their long-term prospects, that the Duchess planned on having ‘’lots and lots’’ of corpses lying around if she won.

“Alright, I get the picture. We should get on to question three, both of you: what do you think of the other wrestler?”

“He looks like he would be fun to burn! With him in my cart, it would be nice and heavy, heavy and nice,” said Rin. She was staring at Kenji in that unsettling way hungry cats sometimes do, gaze unwavering and eyes uncomfortably wide. Kenji scoffed, unperturbed. “If you have to ask, you clearly don’t know me as well as you think, blond dude.”

“Why do you say that?” Manny asked, confused.

Kenji slowly shook his head, sly grin playing across his face as he spoke. “Because there’s only one correct answer. If she BREATHES,” his grin fell away and he threw his head back, launching into a primal roar, “she’s a THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-“

And then the wrestlers were gone and Manny was alone, chuckling. Maybe they were all crazy, or maybe he was the crazy one for believing even for a moment that even one of the wrestlers might have been sane. That realization was almost a comfort.

PROTOMAN vs MINOTAUR

He wore a crimson red helmet with bitchin’ goggles, a perfect action hero in every way, besides his height. Right now, though, he just looked confused. “Why is that woman blindfolded? Also, tied up? Also, naked?”

Manny cringed. “For the time being, take it as ‘safety measures’.”

He blindfolded and lassoed down the absolutely gigantic ox-woman shortly before waking the wrestlers up; now she sat quietly, barely turning her head to follow their voices. The boss said it would help keep her docile enough to ask some questions, along with cleanly dispatching one big problem with interviewing this duo in particular. Of course, the rope wouldn’t hold if she actively tried to break it, but that wasn’t the point. It was mostly there to keep her from accidentally tugging off her blinder.

“No, seriously, why is she nude,” The woman grunted and jiggled a bit.

“And where’s Megaman?” Red helmet man finished, his confusion deepening to suspicion. Manny stared at him. After a few moments of awkward silence, he blinked. “Huh. Usually she drops them in by now.”

At his words the red helmet man looked up and promptly looked back down, clutching at his stomach and mouth. “What in the hell is that?” Manny shrugged. “I haven’t checked; where I’m from, it’s bad luck to look up. All sorts of unsettling things hide up there. Any more questions?” Red helmet man took some deep breaths and shook his head. He seemed more worried about what collateral asking more questions might have than legitimately satisfied, but either way, it wasn’t Manny’s problem.

“Alright, now that’s over with, I have questions for the two of you, ” he said. “The first one’s all yours, Protoman. What are you most thankful for?” “Coming home,” he answered immediately. “On that fateful day, they- no, we. We found one of Wily’s oldest data caches. Backups from before the war. Original personality units for nearly every master he’d ever...” Protoman trailed off, lost in thought. It was still a long fight ahead; in fact, not much about their situation had improved, no magic bullet to victory. What the change did bring was hope. He was for some reason enamored by the idea that if- or when- they finally defeated the doctor, they could start putting things back ‘’together’’ again. Fix things, not merely pave over the wreckage. That hope brought his heart back into the fight, along with many others who had silently checked out long ago. Not long before the hero of man was taken hostage, he’d even heard that the humans of his own world began to rise up of their own volition, after so many years of disappointing silence.

Manny leaned over and patted the robot on the shoulder. “That’s plenty said. Now, Minotaur...”

“Don’t wanna.” She lolled back in her chair, taking full advantage of the fact that she couldn’t fall off in order to be optimally lazy. He sighed; they hadn’t expected to get much out of her, but he had hoped he could coax out at least a little bit of information. This state of affairs was a nasty side-effect of their precautionary measures, he supposed. “Well, then that only really leaves one more thing.”

Manny stood. He walked behind the woman’s chair, eyes locked on Protoman. “Question three,” he said, “what do you think of the other wrestler?”

“Hope returned, and he rode alone.” He looked the Minotaur up and down, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t care how nude you are, no one is ‘’ever’’ taking him away from us.”

“Amen,” Manny said, “but it’ll be a hard fight.” He took hold of the woman’s blindfold gingerly at first, careful not to spook her. Then, with one fierce tug, the knot gave way and the cloth fell from her face.

He quickly backed away, watching the Minotaur’s change from behind. She stretched to full height, back rippling with muscle- it wasn’t wrong to say she had been sleeping, but now she was most certainly fully awake, freed from her sensory-deprived stupor. He also watched Protoman’s reaction; the man took her change with admirable grace, though he did look plenty surprised.

“TINY RED MAN,” she roared, “I’M GOING TO BREAK YOU!” The tiny red man in question grit his teeth. “I’d like to see you try,” he spat, “I won’t let hope vanish ‘’ever again’’.” “BREAK YOU BETWEEN MY THIGHS!” The Minotaur finished, convulsing. Then he looked behind her, to Manny, visibly uncomfortable. “Hey, uh, person, I think there’s been a mix-up here. Is this really the wrestling thing?” “Go,” he said, “there’s a job to be done and someone has to do it. Just… don’t lose.”

Then the wrestlers vanished. Manny realized his entire body was tense; something Protoman had said struck a cord deep in his bones and this time the sensation wasn’t tempered by antihomoerotic discomfort. He paced the room.

RANCE vs SHAMU MERU

Manny took a deep breath and woke the wrestlers. This pair was fairly relaxed; the brown-haired man peeked around until he noticed the barely clothed cat-woman sitting across from him, and she in turn stretched and barely stifled a yawn. The man tried to stand, and when he couldn’t manage it the woman noticed his struggling and tried much the same. Panic began to set in.

“Good morning,” he said. It drew both of their attentions, the man’s eyes narrowing while the woman’s went wide. “You may call me Manny.” He rested his head on his hand, channeling years of experience into his best impression of a smug mobster. Usually that expression was followed by a swift punch to the gut and standard bad-cop threats, but his captive audience didn’t have any such luxury.

Instead, they both kept silent, processing the situation; the cat-woman was intimidated, shrinking back, while the man was wary, attentive to his actions. Manny wondered for a moment if the rooster needed at least this many rounds of practice before he really nailed the pattern; theatrics were a talent of his and he had no idea why he hadn’t bothered exercising it until now. Reading their mood, he sat back and smiled, the look fell evenly between a half-smile and a grimace and he didn’t let it reach his eyes, it was a smug smile, confident and in control. This one felt more like a felon who knew he was free to go no matter what evidence there was against him.

“Don’t get too worried now,” he said, waving a hand at them dismissively, “I only need to ask you some questions.” At that the he brown-haired man seemed to figure out the game, matching Manny’s expression with the smuggest girn he’d ever seen. “Gahahaha! Why would this one be worried?” he said, subtly patting at his hip, grasping for something, “I was born to-“ the grin fell away and his gaze shot to his waist as he began searching more frantically, obviously. The bluff was dispatched in short order as he realized his sword wasn’t there. He looked back to Manny with hard eyes and a serious expression, but now he was visibly tense; in other words, nervous. The brown haired man looked like the type to try and control a conversation, but whatever grip he’d been about to exert on it was gone. “Where’s Chaos?” He asked, “and who set you up to this?”

Manny waved those worries away, shaking his head. “I’m asking the questions, Rance. For example, what’s your favorite thing in the world?” Rance went still for a long time, either thinking or surprised, but eventually his expression fell away and he laughed, as if he couldn’t help it. “Women!” he said, now bombastic, “what else? Gahahaha!”

Manny smiled. “The boss nailed your answer verbatim. Even got the laugh right. Now, for you...” he looked over to the cat-woman. She was trembling, still trying to free herself from her chair. “What is this?” She asked, “I don’t understand!” “Shamu, what are you doing in a wrestling ring?” None of the research he did indicated in any way she should be in the ring, no grand motive or goal to speak of. When he finished asking the question, she underwent a strange shift, shaking off the atmosphere somewhat; she sat a bit straighter and addressed him properly, pointing at herself lazily.

“To work up a sweat!” She said, as if it explained everything. Manny raised an eyebrow. “’’Why,’’ though?” “When I get nice and tired I feel like eating, and I love to eat at Kura Sushi,” the catgirl answered, physically communicating the sentence with a series of cute motions that were entirely unfitting for a person who had been practically wetting herself moments prior, “have you ever eaten there?”

He balked, slowly putting two and two together- she wasn’t any less nervous, she was falling back into her ‘’training’’. “No fucking way,” Manny squinted at her, “you got suckered into this to advertise some sushi joint?” Shamu laughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting this kind of a response. “N-not just any joint, Kura Sushi. I mean, I’m not advertising Kura Sushi, the best place to get sushi and trading cards, what gave you that impression, haha?”

This was a bit off the rails, undramatic. How frustrating. He laughed with her, pointing a finger over to Rance. “You do realize the other wrestler is a violent rapist, right?” he asked, toning the question as if it were an inside joke or fun secret.

Rance looked legitimately offended. “I’m a warrior of Justice!” he protested, “What ever could you mean?” Shamu went wide-eyed and stared at Manny, still trying to figure out if he was messing with her. “You’re not serious, right?”

He stopped laughing. “I would love to give you some time to reconcile your unfortunate situation, but sadly this is an ‘’interview’’. You should have thought things through. before signing on with queen bitch of the universe, or at least you should have had better luck. It’s not my problem to solve.” He sat back again. “That being said, let’s get on to question three. What do you think of the other wrestler?”

“He, uh, seems nice?” Shamu tried, looking Rance up and down. He was posing sorrowfully, as if he’d his character had been unduly assaulted. When Manny glared at him, the brown haired man finally turned to address the woman seated across from him. He looked her up and down too, but the gleam in his eyes was nothing like the nervousness in hers. It was something quite vicious, in fact. “Looks like fresh meat,” he concluded. Shamu gulped.

Manny waved them away; the two wrestlers vanished unceremoniously. This one hadn’t gone as well as it could have, but that was fine, there was always next time. He sat back in his chair, thinking over the interview again and again, wondering what he could have improved.

JOHN DOE vs MALAL

The child of Malal was laughing. This was wrong; he’d played his cards right, delivered his lines perfectly. It was a pristine performance without any fault at all, but she wouldn’t stop laughing. Manny paced the room. “So we’re fine to go?” the other man asked. He was John Doe, their wrestler. Manny rounded on him.

“I’m afraid not,” Manny said, “I have questions to ask and they ‘’will’’ be answered.” John shrugged. “I gave you an answer.” Manny pointed over to the other wrestler, exasperated. “She didn’t.”

John looked over to the child of Malal, who was still laughing. “Son, she’s off her rocker. What do you expect?” “I expect excellence. They demand it,” he stamped a foot down hard, “I’ve only got this one little job to do. I finally get it down to a science and this happens. This,” he waved his finger menacingly, “thing won’t play along.” Her laughter felt deafening, pounding at his mind like a jackhammer. She rocked in her chair with the joy of it and his head throbbed. He clutched at it.

John started, “Let’s settle down now,” but Manny cut him off. “You’re just an ordinary guy and you’re going up against her while I’m stuck in here getting screamed at and punched and forced to wonder if some ‘’guy’’ will manage to save the day. I can’t take it anymore!” The room shook. The light that had been dim felt heavy, a thick neon glow from the energy of it. “For all this garbage I’m going to be a footnote.” He stalked towards the man, suddenly furious.

John shook his head, sadly “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Manny slammed a fist down hard on the table, fairly close to where the wrestler sat. The table hissed at him and his knuckles bled, but the howling joy of the child of the Malalite made those things feel small. “Get what?” he growled, “get that some of us only deserve table-scraps? Should be happy to be left behind? Forgotten?”

“It’s not about being remembered, son,” John said, “no matter how many people remember you, it won’t make you real.” Howling with rage, Manny raised a hand high, tight. There was a knife in his grip, he could feel it. If he came down hard enough he could probably end this with one clean blow. Take the man’s place, maybe. The boss would be pissed but if- no, ‘’when’’ Manny saved the day, no one would remember poor John. He brought it down fiercely, stabbing at the man’s neck...

And fell to his knees. He couldn’t do it, because John was right. No amount of theatrics or identity theft would make them remember Manny Pardo; he knew it deep inside. This wasn’t about him. He closed his eyes tight, blinking away fury, and when he opened them he finally noticed the state of the room.

It was littered with blood and bodies where office supplies and detritus had been before. Burgundy lines decorated the walls, turned rose-red by the neon glow. The bodies were broken trophies from past victories on the force, along with victims of the days he’d left behind. Hundreds of bodies. The knife clattered to the ground, occult markings fizzing out. This hadn’t been what he wanted. The child of Malal’s laughter stopped.

“I can feel the edges of my mind fraying as I speak,” he said, “this was a mistake. We all knew the Frasergy would wear thin without his help, but for it to be happening this soon…” He looked up at John. The man was mostly confused, maybe a bit sympathetic. “Before I was free, this was just normal. Now, it hurts. I can feel them clawing away at my thoughts, telling me to do the most horrific things until I get my way.”

Manny could feel the room relax, gradually returning to some semblance of normalcy, blood fading and bodies sliding away into nothingness. This wasn’t meant to be about him, it never was; he wasn’t the hero of the story, they were. To steal away the limelight was to return to the person he was before, to give in to the urges killing him slowly.

John watched him for a long minute and sighed. He was weary, like he finally knew exactly what he was seeing. “We’ve all got our wars, son. I’ve made peace with mine long enough to try and fix this mess, so should you.”

Manny took in a deep breath and stood, backing away from the wrestler. The Malalite shrieked at him, desperately clawing her way towards John or Manny or whoever she could get her hands on, but the chair held strong. The Malalite’s laughter stopped. She thrashed in her chair, clawing at John furiously.

“John, you’re right. I’ve been a fool, letting her...,” he pointed again to the mild singularity of Chaos in the room, “and the old me get the better of the person I want to be. If you’re still good to fight...”

The man nodded. “If you want to talk wars, that red lady promised she’d hunt down that damn bug again I wrestled for her. No way in hell I’m missing out on that. I’ll save the man on my own if that’s what it takes.”

“I believe you,” Manny said, voice cracking, “but please, hurry.” He waved his hand. The wrestlers disappeared and he was left alone to salvage what was left of his sanity, if anything. He waited for some sort of acknowledgement from the boss; a dismissal, even. None came. On a better day, like the days after he’d been freed, saved from his peculiarities, that would have been a thankful thing.

VEGETA vs USHI ONI

As ridiculous as some of the other duos of wrestlers had been, this one took the cake. To one side, a small guy with admirably tall hair and some stellar muscles. To the other, six massive legs perched on six chairs, manifest from nowhere to accommodate the spider-woman’s unique physique; for some reason whatever trick she used to conceal the rear four in the ring didn’t play nice with the room’s natural power dampener. He was tempted to call it quits and leave them sleeping, but instead he sighed, stood and backed away from the table, finally snapping his fingers.

Almost instantly a bundle of web soared past Manny’s head, barely missing him thanks to his precaution. He sidled further out of the line of fire, watching the giant woman strain under the chairs as she tried hard and failed to move them in any significant way. The small man made an attempt to stand and failed. He grunted a lot and his hair went insta-blonde; he tried again and still couldn’t stand. He grunted some more.

“Enough of that! You’re here for an interview, an interview.” Neither wrestler seemed to care enough to stop trying to get free, but he did get their attention. Manny smiled. “Welcome to the ring,” he said, “Naturally, Vegeta gets question one. What do you miss the most?”

Vegeta looked remarkably self-satisfied, but he thought about it for a minute and frowned. “I’m not answering that,” he answered, voice perfectly flat. Manny worried as much, but thankfully he could remember his notes clearly now. He’d even prepared the perfect tool to lubricate the process, back during the investigation: “I’ll put you down for ’seeing eye to eye’, good.”

Vegeta was furious. “That’s not- that’s bullshit!” He shouted, “The idiot didn’t even make me that much tal-“ but then he trailed off, glaring at Manny. “No, wait, I see what you’re doing, you asshole. Fine.” The event hadn’t changed much. The balance had shifted slightly away from Kakarrot’s eternal favor, that golden child, and he’d even gotten a few rare moments to truly shine, but that wasn’t the most important thing that had happened by a long shot. “After eighteen years of nothing, piddling away our lives,” Vegeta said. “That man woke us up, and it didn’t take long after he was taken by that ‘’bitch’’ for it to all fall apart.” He grit his teeth.

Manny turned to the spider-woman. Despite how difficult it was, she still nearly managed to rotate herself enough to hit him with a web-shot if she tried hard enough. He took another couple steps off to the side. “Question two is for you, thing. Why didn’t you kill the Duchess when you had the chance?” “She didn’t look tasty,” she hissed, “not nearly so much as you.” The spider-woman’s struggles intensified, desperately wriggling to try to get at him. “Fine,” he said, thoughts racing for the correct follow-up. The boss had said most Ushi-Oni in a relationship were tame and should behave fairly well, but this one was sealed by the strip of paper covering her eye and still behaving like a plain-old monster. That left about four likely motives or circumstances, most principally... “but don’t you have someone you should be getting back to?”

The spider woman’s hiss wore into a mournful shriek “She took him,” she said, body convulsing in a mixture of hunger and anguish, “It’s been days without him, I can’t take much more of this.” Which meant it was too late to defuse her situation. He wasn’t the only one with something unbearable eating at his head, and her savior was every bit as stolen away as theirs was. He couldn’t help but pity her, but there was only one way this could go.

“That’s unfortunate, but it isn’t my place to help you. Just one more question: what do you think of the other wrestler?” “Meat,” said the Ushi-Oni, “to be used.” The desperation in her voice was palpable, and she quivered as if every moment trapped on the wooden chairs was agony. Vegeta shook his head and smirked. “Won’t be the first bug I’ve crushed.” His ridiculously tall hair flapped with an immaterial wind, a faint golden glow on the short man’s skin.

“Good luck, and may the best wrestler win,” Manny said. The wrestlers vanished, and he relaxed, relieved. That interview went fairly well. Then he noticed the pile of unidentified goo where the Ushi-Oni had been and wondered if maybe he would have been better off cutting and running after all.

SKI FREE YETI vs YETI GIRL

Manny snapped his fingers.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”, roared one of the yetis. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”, roared the other.

The one with long, spindly arms was Ski Free Yeti, and he stopped screaming about long enough to hold said long spindly arms far across the table towards the woman seated at the other side, Yeti Girl. She took them gingerly and leaned forward, pulling her man closer. It was an intimate gesture, one that may have even been touching or emotional if the couple wasn’t so mutually horrific. Manny had thought he was prepared, thought he was ready for what he knew was coming, but he was wrong. No amount of rerunning the concept of being an unobtrusive and graceful interviewer through his head would salvage this.

“THIS WAS A MISTAKE,” Manny yelled, “ANY HELP HERE?”

For once, and on cue, the boss decided to ‘’help’’. Brutally loud Marvin Gaye blasted from invisible speakers above. It only barely surpassed the noise-level of the general cacophony; the yetis grew more desperate as they pulled their arms towards each-other, roars taking on dangerously sensual tones. Their chairs rattled but did not give, still barely holding on.

“,” shouted Manny, but he was pretty sure no one could hear him anymore. After a few painful moments of trying to be louder he resigned to plugging his fingers in his ears and waiting patiently for the noise level to sink down far enough to hear himself think. It took an awfully long time, but the yetis seemed to realize they weren’t getting a hold of each-other any time soon, finally reducing their decibels to a manageable (but still brutally loud) level.

“QUESTION ONE, WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE SNACK?” HE SCREAMED, “SKI FREE.” Ski Free let one hand go and pointed at the yeti girl. She put her own now-free hand to her face and blushed, the bright red flush easily visible against her pale skin.

“QUESTION TWO, YETI GIRL, WHAT IN THE HELL DID DUCHESS PROMISE TO GET YOU ON BOARD?” After a long moment she looked up at Ski Free and pointed his way. Despite her generally imposing size and bodytone, the gesture felt almost dainty. Ski Free looked ecstatic and the incoherent roaring intensified again, their fierce attempts to close the gap so strong that they looked as if they might free themselves of the room’s grip through arm-strength alone, or perhaps the power of love, or otherwise whatever bullshit magic it was that made yetis run so fast.

Of course, this motive wasn’t any surprise. Ski Free Yeti was nearly monstrous enough to be tolerable for the Duchess, even if he was a man, so it made sense that Yeti Girl would bargain to save her husband- if she won, they stayed together, if he won, they stayed together. Win-win. The interview wasn’t going to get him anything new other than a migraine, but that wasn’t the whole point either.

Manny watched the couple gaze deeply into each-other’s eyes even though they were well armed with the knowledge that they were about to beat the ever living hell out of each-other. From what he understood, that was actually fairly normal for them, a wrestle before ‘bouts’ for dominance. It was an oddly pure set of circumstances that brought about this fight of two indisputable monsters; he thought about coming to some grand conclusion about not judging a book by its cover, but then he remembered that they both ate people on a regular basis and that the only nice thing the hostage had ever (accidentally) done for Ski Free was ensure that his mountain hunting-grounds was full to the brim with soon-to-be-meals.

“QUESTION THREE, JUST GET THE FUCK OUT,” MANNY SCREAMED.

He waved a hand and the room went silent. He exhaled, waiting patiently for the ringing to leave his ears. Just one more interview, only one more and he was done.

CLOWN vs MIMI

“Boss? There’s been some kind of mistake?” Manny said, scanning the room. It was just him and one unconscious, purple-furred cat-girl wearing obnoxious clothes that said obnoxious things. He’d been told to expect a ‘friendly space clown’, but so far as he could see, it wasn’t anywhere around, and of all things to misplace, did it have to be a clown? He sat waited and waited, but got no response, which only left one thing- to wake the girl up. He snapped his fingers.

“Seen any space clowns?” He asked, watching her as she woke up. She blinked at him. “Oh shit! I know you!” the girl said, excited. “Thick skin!” “What do you mean?” Manny asked. This absolutely wasn’t a response he had expected, though a lesser part of himself was proud to be recognized. “Thick skin! L-O-L,” she said, “Thick skin!” “What are you even talking about?” He could feel that lesser part shriveling, and it was almost a thankful thing.

The cat-girl tittered violently, rocking back and forth. “You were ‘’born’’ with thick sin! Everybody knows it.” Mimi said, “It’s famous!” He huffed. “Really? That’s it? That’s not even my best line,” he said, “of all things, why would that be famous?” The cat-girl didn’t respond, at least not to him. She murmered ‘gotta get a grip’ a few times and laughed and laughed, but he realized she was staring straight through him, not making eye contact. He watched her carefully, trying to see if the cat-girl was drugged half to hell, but he realized her eyes were clear- focused, in fact, right behind him.

“Mimi, what are you doing?” He asked, curious.

“Watching the door!” she said, “for the other wrestler!” Then she laughed merrily and said some more incomprehensible things. He took a moment to process that statement and then launched himself out of his chair, rolling to the side and swiveling his body to look behind. Until now the wall had been unmarked and blocked off by random garbage, but now the debris were cleared and sitting immediately behind his chair there was a plain wooden door, marked only by a smooth spherical doorknob.

Manny launched to his feet and hit the wall running. Standing flush against it, he felt for his sidearm, but he didn’t find it. Naturally, living a more reasonable, peaceful life and planning for an interview gig, he didn’t think to pack heat. He regretted that decision.

Sidling over, he opened the door carefully- it swung inwards, and threw it open, using the corner as a vantage to look in. The space behind the door was a hallway, long and decorated remarkably similarly to the room itself, with the same style walls and even the same clutter lining them, along with the same flickering light bulbs that barely kept it bright enough to see. The effect was spooky and he didn’t like the atmosphere, not when he wasn’t in charge at least.

Looking back to Mimi, she was still laughing and tittering random things. “I’m, uh, going to check this out,” he said, creeping into the hall. Mimi might have said something back at him, but he couldn’t hear her through the blood suddenly pounding in ears.

He made it all of about four steps before he heard the first honk. As he walked the honking continued, but he couldn’t see any source; it took nearly twenty paces before he got a good look at the Clown. The Clown was a big guy with face paint, a mostly traditional clown look. He smiled at Manny, but doing so made the drawn-on grin of his happy clown lips creep up his face far too high, as though his head might open by half, and no matter how funny his rubber nose was or how bright-red his jumper may be, Manny couldn’t fight of the spike of dread that grin shot into his gut.

The Clown took a slow step forward and honked his horn. Manny realized with a start that the Clown was holding the airhorn he’d discarded a good many interviews earlier, though he couldn’t figure out when the clown possibly could have gotten his hands on it. His nerves got the better of him, and he took a tentative step backwards. The Clown started matching his step, and as he began to retreat at speed, the thing chased him, big dumb floppy shoes squeaking with each step. He kept walking, but when he hit forty steps and was still in the hall he realized he must have gone much further in than he thought. He turned and fell into a sprint. And that’s when the light died. The horrible squeaking steps behind him accelerated in turn, and with it the honking of the airhorn, a cacophony of funny death at his heels as he ran towards the vague promise of dim light that seemed impossibly far away.

“YOU SAID HE WAS FRIENDLY!” Manny screamed, racing through the darkness.

After a full minute of running that felt like an our he was back in the room, but he slipped, face-planting on the floor; he could feel his nose crack under the pressure. Manny rolled, noting the pleasant pink bar of soap at his feet. He hadn’t even seen it before, and there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed such an obvious thing. The Clown entered the light as he watched, the thing’s inhumanly wide grin splitting it ear to ear, and it leaned down, and honked the horn.

Frantically, Manny waved his hands, conjuring thoughts of blessings and masks and the Bomb and what the room was supposed to be and what it was supposed to do.

The room took action and the Clown was torn to shreds and put together again in an instant, every instant. Injuries stretched over his body, from burning and lacerations to emulsification, injuries internal and external, thousands of appendixes bursting and throats slit, his eyes gouged by tens of invisible screwdrivers; sometimes the thing’s bones were cracked and caved in, others they were cut as though by lasers. Through all of the no doubt unspeakable agony, a record of countless deaths and dismemberments, the Clown stood over him, and honked.

“By God, what are you?” Manny wheezed. Mimi seemed to enjoying this, still cackling in the background.

It was as if pain was a foreign concept, or more likely long forgotten. It kept honking, over and over, and then it began to reach out another hand to him; he could see something within, what looked a poorly concealed joke buzzer, but in that moment he felt like it was an electric chair.

“Room, take them away! Do it now, I’m begging you,” Manny shouted, crawling away desperately. He shut his eyes. When he opened them, the wrestlers were gone. He picked himself up off the ground, stumbling over to his chair. It was the last interview, he told himself. It would be fine, he told himself.

An old flip-phone dropped on the table. Manny Pardo stared at it for a moment, and then, it rang. He held it up to his ear.

“Yes boss, it’s over.” “Good job? In what way? This was a disaster, and it’s all my fault.” “Mostly my fault.” “I can’t just take the circumstances and use it as a free pass.” “Even if you wanted me back, after that…”

Manny sighed and rubbed his forehead, leaning on the table. Quietly, sweat dripped on the table and he stared at the tiny puddle building. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could handle.

“What do you mean the thing is heartbroken? He’s horrifying”

“Look,” he said, sighing, “if you really need my services again and this isn’t an elaborate ruse, one way or another it won’t matter if you don’t save the hostage. Focus on that.” “I really need to be getting back to Miami, boss. It’s a long way home.”

Miami was the worst place he could imagine being if things went back to the way they were, but it was where he belonged. It was also where he could do the least damage, and that mattered even more. He leaned back, exhausted. A rustic projector sat on the table about half way down; much nearer wasa little green remote. He picked up the remote and hit a button, watching the projector kick on. The reel started to play, and then he vanished.