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Everything posted by DSkillz

  1. Good and entertaining entry, Bergy. There was some weird tense switching throughout, but still a good story. Heh, that's even better for Buffy, who's virtually made a living out of improvising weapons. IIRC, she even slit a vampire's throat with a kick from her ice skate-fitted foot once. I think Buffy wins the match and makes an even bigger fool out of Bone Saw than Spider-Man did, since Buffy has a lot more combat experience than Spidey did in his match.
  2. Another good set-up, Venom. I think Spidey and Goldar may have met their match here, though, even with the Frankenstein monster helping them. Vile and the "loving" couple are pretty damn powerful and familiar with both Goldar and the monster, and I seem to remember White Ranger Tommy being outmatched going head-to-head against Zedd himself.
  3. On another note, why is Voldo a flirty maid in the first fight of this vid???
  4. Another good set-up, Johnny, and more good exposition in the dialogue. As for the match, Voldo has the advantage in raw quickness, aggression, and unorthodoxies, but Dhalsim's calm demeanor, reach and abilities to blow flame and teleport could also serve him well here. In the end, though, I think Voldo could get off some blows on Dhalsim before the latter could teleport away and eventually wear the Yoga guru down, but not without Voldo himself getting burned a bit in the process. It looks like Urien might have made a good choice in this battle of contortionists.
  5. "Squishy wizard" also literally applies to Wanda here.
  6. Sorry about not getting to this in time, Venom. This is one of your better matches. And I also think the Zombie Rangers should've won here.
  7. Red Tornado's gonna remind Wanda a little of her husband, I think.
  8. Heh, why am I just now getting to this? Looks like this was produced by the same people that did Rugrats.
  9. Another good set-up, Johnny, and great expositional dialogue between Ryu and Yoshimitsu. Based on Ryu's rep alone from the old NES games and the more game series, though, I think he wins this and therefore convinces Yoshimitsu to lead him to the never-ending maze.
  10. Another great set-up and recap, Rakai. Mikey had just about the advantage over Yuri that I figured. As for this match? Tough one, I think. From what I've read up on and seen from King, she might be pretty close in skill to Ryo and Robert (didn't she lose a fight -- and her top -- in a close bout with Ryo in-canon?). Donnie's usually not that far off in fighting skill from his brothers, either, so this should be a close one. Not really sure how this would go, to be honest.
  11. Hey, I know we've been enjoying the Draft, but if I'm not mistaken, there are only three entries total so far for this month's tournament. And as Fox mentioned, there's not a lot of time left to enter. Also, it would be nice if you guys added links to your entries to this thread like we've done in past tourneys. It makes seeking them out a bit easier overall. Took me a little bit to look up each of your winning matches and link/add them to the CBUB Hall of Fame.
  12. Nah, that would put Starfire at around cosmic levels, which, IIRC, isn't allowed for this slot.
  13. Not sure? I was just following Tarvius' lead from back in the day by adding them in. I was at least considering pinning the thread, but if you want to make a sub-forum from it, I certainly wouldn't mind. BTW, I'm also considering what to add to the Outstanding Match Set-ups Thread.
  14. Here's the second entry from September tournament co-winner, JohnnyChany: “Your friends are here Dustin,” Ms. Henderson called out. Before young Dustin could open his bedroom door, his two friends, Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair, busted through. Dustin’s Star Wars figures and remote control robot fell from their perched shelf. “What’s up guys?” asked Dustin. “We literally just got back.” “You tell us,” replied Mike. “You called last night and said you found something really awesome in New York and had to show us.” “Oh yeah.” Dustin rummaged through his backpack and glanced back up at his friends. “Before I show you it, I have to tell you how I got it.” Mike and Lucas listened intently. “So my last night in New York I talked my mom into letting me go see that movie Lucas won’t shut up about,” said Dustin. “Weird Science?” Lucas blurted with excitement. “That’s the one. She didn’t want to go so I had to find a theatre close to the hotel. It took me a little while but then there it was, some old fashioned theatre in the middle of New York City.” Lucas beamed with pride. “Wasn’t that movie amazing?” Dustin shrugged. “It wasn’t terrible. It was way too derivative. Frankenstein for teenage boys, I think they could have done it better.” “What?” Lucas replied in disbelief. “I think Lucas just liked it so much because he has a crush on Kelly LeBrock,” Mike guessed. Lucas turned his expression of bewilderment toward Mike. “And you don’t?” “I mean she is pretty,” Mike stammered. “Pretty?” Lucas repeated. “That was another thing I didn’t like, they have what is essentially a genie and they do nothing cool with her,” said Dustin. “You’re missing the point,” Lucas insisted. “Even if you take the magic out, these two teenage boys put their heads together and started to make something really cool. Just think of the possibilities of what we could create if we put our minds together. Easily something way better than that ham radio tower you are so proud of.” Dustin got defensive. “Cerebro is a monument to scientific ingenuity.” “For what purpose? You use it to sing “Neverending Story” with your girlfriend in Utah.” Mike raised his arms and positioned himself between his two friends. “Guys! Guys! How did we even get into this argument. Dustin, what did you find in New York?” “Right The theatre was almost empty, so after the movie I started chatting with the projectionist, some old guy named Nick. We talked about movies, and then we talked about incredible things we have seen in our lives…” “Dustin, please tell me you didn’t tell him about us,” said Mike “Of course I did,” answered Dustin. “I told him about us, and El, and the Demogorgon, and the Mind Flayer…” Mike’s eyes widened with disbelief. “What the hell, man! What if he tells the government, We could get in a lot of trouble,” Dustin waved his hand dismissively. “Nick won’t tell the government. And, even if he did no one will believe some crazy old movie projectionist,” “Still seems like a weird conversation to have with somebody you just met,” commented Lucas. “Well, I will have you know that Nick happened to love my stories. So much so that he gave me a present to show his gratitude.” Dustin lifted up his backpack He reached inside and procured a golden ticket with a magic eye symbol emblazoned in the middle. Mike furrowed his brow. “He gave you a fancy movie ticket?” “No. He gave me the ticket given to him as a boy by Harry Houdini,” Dustin corrected. “It’s a magic ticket. Nick says it has a mind of its own. Look..” Dustin wiggled the ticket, nothing extraordinary happened. He could feel the disappointment radiating from his friends. “Just a second.” Suddenly, golden sparkles and small flashes of electricity emanated from the ticket. “Is it some kind of electronic ticket?” Lucas wondered. Dustin flipped the ticket to reveal both sides. “Do you see a circuit board anywhere? I told you it’s a magic ticket.” “What do you do with a magic ticket?” “Well you...I mean I can...well… I don’t know but it looks cool and it’s a magic ticket from freakin’ Harry Houdini and you guys should be more excited about it,” Dusin insisted. “I guess,” said Lucas. “Maybe you should destroy it,” Mike suggested. “What!?! Why would I do that?” Dustin yelped. “Do you remember the last cool thing you found that you were so excited to show us? It turned out to be a baby demogorgon,” said Mike. Dustin stood with his mouth open for a moment. “How can you even compare those two things? This ticket didn’t come from Hawkins Lab. It came from a cool guy in New York who met Harry Houdini.” “Regardless, it’s not as cool as you made it out to be,” said Lucas. “Unbelievable. I thought you guys would be alot more enthusiastic about this.” Dustin turned his attention specifically to Lucas. “You were so amazed by some pseudo science magic from a movie. News flash Lucas you can’t find a way to get a super model to jump out of a computer screen, no more than I can get wizards and monsters to jump out of my tv screen. But, this, here, this is a legitimate magical artifact and you have no reaction.” “To be fair we have all seen some crazy things the last few years.” Mike looked down at his watch. “Dustin, I gotta go, I need to go…” “Call Eleven, of course,” Lucas sighed. “God forbid a few days go by without that.” Later in the evening, lightning filled the night sky and it began to rain. Inside the Henderson household, Dustin sat on his couch, still simmering over his earlier interaction with Lucas and Mike. He looked over Houdini’s ticket. It sparkled in his hand, and he regarded it with a mix of adoration and confusion at Mike and Lucas’s lack of appreciation for the object. He placed it on the armrest of the couch and picked up his walkie talkie. He considered calling Mike to ask how Eleven was doing and if he had got a chance to talk to Will as well. Eleven had left with the Byers family to go house hunting during the last week of summer. Will’s mom was determined to move out of Hawkins. Dustin secretly hoped they would fail, and be forced to stay. He held the walkie to his mouth, but then he stopped himself. Dustin decided he did not want to talk to Mike anymore that day and instead wanted to think about someone who always made him feel happy and appreciated, his long distance girlfriend, Suzie. Dustin walked over to his VHS collection and picked out Suzie’s favorite movie, The Never Ending Story. Dustin popped the movie in the VCR and laid down on his couch to watch it. He did not make it far into the movie before the jet lag from his flight caught up with him. He fell asleep on the couch.The golden ticket by Dustin’s feet sparked more intensely than it had ever done before and a soft glow radiated from it. “DUSTIN!! DUSTIN!! DO YOU COPY? WE HAVE A CODE RED! REPEAT WE HAVE A CODE RED!!” The shouts from his walkie talkie woke Dustin up from his slumber and he sprang to his feet to grab the walkie talkie. “This is Dustin.” “Dustin, I need you to meet Mike and me on Weathertop,” said Lucas. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know.” “Is it the upside down?” “I don’t know.” Dustin quickly ran out of his house and hopped on his bike. The rain had stopped, but the thunder and lightning were now louder and more continuous. Dustin pedaled as hard as he could to get to the highest point in Hawkins, Weathertop. As he biked through the town, Dustin was confused by what his eyes were seeing. It was Hawkins, but there was something different about it that he could not quite identify. When Dustin arrived at the hilltop, Lucas and Mike were already there standing with their bikes. Dustin followed their gaze to a large beam of light shining down in the distance. “When the storm started acting crazy, I went outside and saw that beam,” Lucas explained. “I couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from so that's why we came up here so that we could see all of Hawkins.” Mike’s face was a pale shade of white. “Mike, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Dustin. “Not a ghost, but I’m pretty sure I saw Falcor. Maybe even Rockbiter, but definitely Falcor flying in the sky while I was biking up here,” stated Mike. “Falcor? The luck dragon from Neverending Story? Are you sure?” asked Lucas. “You didn’t say anything when we got here.” “I’m still processing,” Mike admitted. “So you’re saying the creatures from the movie, the Never Ending Story, are invading from the upside down?” “I was just watching that movie before I fell asleep.” said Dustin. “So they didn’t come from the upside down? Did they come from your tv? Did the storm bring them to life?” Lucas theorized. “Is Weird Science actually a real thing? Dustin, do you have any action figures of Falcor that could have been hit by lightning?” Realization washed over Dustin’s face. “The ticket?” “That golden ticket?” asked Mike. “When Nick was given that ticket by Houdini, Houdini told him it was a passport to another world. My stories about the gate are what originally reminded Nick of it,” said Dustin. “You’re just telling us this now?” screamed Mike. “I didn’t want to freak you guys out, or have you assume it was dangerous,” said Dustin. “Dustin! Look around, that thing is dangerous!” “Man! This is bad. If Falcor is here from Fantasia do you think other characters are too?” Lucas wondered. “Like Bastian or the Nothing or….” Lucas stared up into the sky as lightning danced across it like a ballet stage. His eyes then returned to the ray of light in the distance. “That must be the home of…” “The child-like empress,” Dustin interjected. He built up his resolve. “Guys, we can do this. We know the story. All we have to do is get there and give her a name.” “The only place we should go to is back to your house to get that ticket,” said Mike. “We can’t go back there. If my mom discovers that I warped reality I’ll be grounded forever. I’m telling you we can do this. We have figured out more difficult campaigns before,” Dustin insisted. “Have you forgotten. We are missing two of our party members,” replied Mike. “Who knows what will be out there.” “I vote we go back to Dustin’s house,” said Lucas. “Majority rules. Let’s get going,” announced Mike. Dustin relented and the three boys jumped back on their bikes and headed back home. On their way through the forested area on the outskirts of town, Dustin suddenly stopped. “Do you guys hear that?” he asked. A voice rumbled through the trees. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?” “Someone needs help.” The boys wandered through the forest. Lucas was the first one to see the origin of the voice, He froze with fear. In the distance, green eyes and large white teeth pierced through the darkness. A low growl discharged from a mountain of black fur. It was the large wolf, it was G’Mork. “Come closer, boys. Come closer,” G’Mork beckoned. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin did not move. “I am weakened by my neverending hunt.” G’mork breathed heavily and then raised his voice. “Come closer so that I may devour you and regain my strength to track down the one who can stop the Nothing.” “Is Atreyu here too?” Dustin wondered. G’mork’s eyes widened. “How do you know that name?” “Run! Run! Run!” Mike shouted. The boys ran back to their bikes. G’Mork slowly rose to his feet. His failure to capture Atreyu in Fantasia had led him to starvation. Starvation he was willing to give into. Until now. These strange boys had given him new purpose. They knew who Atreyu was. The hunt was on. VISUAL TIMELINE/REFERENCES:
  15. And now, the first entry from our second co-winner of the September 2020 CBUB Tournament (and the third repeat tourney-winner), JohnnyChany! Congratulations! It was parole day in the Mysic Realm. Da Ji, pink skinned purple haired former general of Orochi’s demon army, thrusted her large explosive orbs at the towering gates of her cloud prison with giddy glee. But, the explosions had no effect on the gates. After a few minutes, the gates disappeared and in their place stood the white haired Mystic, Nuwa. Nuwa rolled her eyes before she addressed the prisoner. “How much time have you spent attacking these gates in vain?” “I had to do something to keep myself entertained,” Da Ji replied. Nuwa escorted her out of her confinement and walked next to her on a long crystalline path back to the Mystic Realm. “If it were just up to me you would have remained in there for eternity,” said Nuwa. “But, Fu Xi is a big believer in atonement and rehabilitation. Me, I believe you will try to betray us again the first chance you get.” Da Ji did not dispute this assertion. Nuwa pulled out her rapier and held it directly at Da Ji’s throat. “Rest assured that if you do try and betray us again, I will be first in line to cut you down.” Da Ji’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Do you promise?” Nuwa sighed and returned her rapier to its hilt. “Not that there is much you can do now to betray us. I’m sure you might try to raise your precious master, Orochi, back from the dead. But, there is no longer an army to lead. Susano’o went on a rage after Orochi’s last defeat and slaughtered most of the demons single handedly.” Da Ji’s elven ears perked up at this news. She was sad to hear that the anger filled mass of muscles had ruined so much potential fun. “I believe Kiyomori Taira is still in hiding somewhere in the mortal realm. If you lure him out of his hole, I am sure the two of you can reminisce about the good old days,” Nuwa suggested. Da Ji grew wary of Nuwa’s condescending tone. “You could try to cause some chaos in the mortal realm, but the humans have pretty much already done that to themselves.It has changed significantly since the last time you were there.” “What?” replied Da Ji. “I want to see. Can I go look at the Divine Mirror.” “There is no chance I would let you close to the Divine Mirror by yourself. But, if you are genuinely curious I can escort you there,” Nuwa offered. “Of course,” said Da Ji. Her expression darkened. “Also don’t think I don’t see what you are doing. You are trying to tempt me into doing something that will get me thrown back in that horrible cage.” Nuwa laughed. “I did not think I was being subtle.” A few hours later, Da Ji and Nuwa arrived at the palace of the former Heavenly Emperor. In his throne room, Nuwa presented the Divine Mirror. “Take a look.” Da Ji gazed into the mirror to get glimpses of the Mortal Realm. Images of sickly humans dying by the thousands and abandoned cities filled the mirror. “Did I just see a monkey building a hut?” asked Da Ji. “An ape actually. An unusual side effect in humanity’s self destruction. In their efforts to control the uncontrollable with their science, the mortals inadvertently created a deadly virus that has wiped out most of their species. The virus has also enhanced the intellectual capacity of the apes. In the very near future, the apes will become the dominant species of the realm. Whether or not they repeat the mistakes of their predecessors remains to be seen.” That night, Da Ji formulated a plan to bring back her master, Orochi, the Serpent King. She would use the apes as her new army to replace the demons. A new species on the rise would be impressionable and easy to manipulate, and she knew just the one to do it. As much as she disliked Sun Wukong, he was destined for this role. He was cunning and he could relate to the apes in a way that no one else could. She just needed to locate her associate, the half demon half human, Kiyamori Taira first. Sun Wukong was loyal to Kiyamori. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A few years later in the mortal realm... Caesar, chosen leader of the apes, walked through a densely forested area with his friend and confidant, Maurice the Orangutan. They carefully inspected branches and tree trunks from which new dwellings would be built. Caesar raised his hands to sign and communicate to his friend the growing frustrations bubbling up inside. I am tired of living a nomadic existence, I want to find a permanent settlement for us. Maurice paused for a moment and then signed in response. Do you think it is safe? “No, not yet,” replied Caesar. One day we may be able to live in peace with the humans, but while soldiers still hunt us we must retain the ability to leave quickly. Maurice nodded with sadness in his eyes and then attempted a smile. It will be a day of great celebration when that time comes. Their conversation was then interrupted by the arrival of Caesar’s son, Blue Eyes. “Hurry!’ Come! Hurry!” A sense of dread filled Caesar’s body as he and Maurice followed his son through the forest. They came to a sudden stop at the sight of a large group of apes staring into the sky. Caesar followed their gaze to the treetops. A figure with a red vest and black trousers surfed through the trees on a long crimson staff. A handful of branches broke off and fell by Caesar’s feet several yards from the group of apes. “Kikey! Kikey!” shouted the figure.He then leapt off his staff and landed in front of the apes. It was a large humanoid monkey. “Greetings. First, let me congratulate you, my simien brothers and sisters, on your ascension in this realm.” Sun Wukong immediately picked up on the confusion emanating from his audience. “I am Sun Wukong.” A clone of Sun Wukong popped into existence next to the original one and then spoke. “The legendary monkey king.” The sudden apparition frightened several of the apes who bellowed out howls of terror. The original Sun Wukong smiled. “I mean you no harm.” The clone disappeared. “Based on your responses I can only conclude that your human slavers never told you stories about me.” Caesar, Maurice, and Blue Eyes walked slowly toward the group but did not make a sound. “I was created a very long time ago by the gods to lead my fellow simeons to a golden age of prosperity!” Wukong proclaimed. “But, unfortunately at the time the humans had taken control and did not take kindly to a leader that looked like me. So the gods sealed me up in a rock, because they knew of a prophecy. The prophecy that stated that one day the apes would rise up against their human masters and take control of the planet. And when that time came, I would be set free. Here I am!” Howls of excitement erupted from the collection of apes. “Now all we have to do is deal with the remnants of humanity,” Wukong announced. The excitement level dissipated. One of the apes attempted to use his hands to sign a response to Sun Wukong. “What are you doing?” asked Wukong. “Can not all of you speak?” Blue Eyes spoke up. “That is not the way… Caesar taught us.” It was at this moment that the other apes first became aware of Caesar’s presence. They immediately knelt in respect and offered up their palms to him. He stroked each palm so the apes knew they could return to their feet. Caesar then turned his attention to Sun Wukong. “We do not want bloodshed...or war. Only peace.” Sun Wukong thought quickly on his feet. “Kikey! Of course! I wanted to make sure you were as noble as I had hoped. You passed the test. I will do everything in my power to help bring an everlasting peace.” Caesar’s expression remained unchanged. “You must be the leader of this colony,” Wukong continued. “The other apes did a great job in picking you. I would very much like to meet all the others.” After Sun Wukong had left with the other apes back to the colony, Maurice approached Caesar to express his concerns. I have read much of the human folklore and I have never read anything about this prophecy. I have read about Sun Wukong before. He is a trickster and cannot be trusted. Caesar signed in response. Can we trust the human perspective of him? Maurice shrugged. I have a bad feeling about him. Caesar agreed with his friend and viewed this new interloper as a bad omen. But, Caesar also noticed the amazement and adoration from the other apes toward Sun Wukong. He did not want to openly shun this newcomer and alienate part of his colony or come across as jealous. He had learned his lessons from Koba’s betrayal years before. If he wanted to avoid fracturing his colony even further, he would have to prove to his kind that Sun Wukong can not be trusted to lead them. And so begins the battle for the hearts and minds of ape kind… Story note: This iteration of Sun Wukong is from the Warriors Orochi video game franchise. He is very similar to most iterations in that he is a mischievous trickster, but he is not malicious.
  16. And now, corvette1710's second co-winning September entry: The Xenomorph Queen hissed in pleasure. No sickly, grey beings pervaded her hives now. They were diseased, scrawny things who could put up little resistance against her drones. The eggs she’d laid put them to good use, though. Their feeble weaponry, slings and bows by her estimation, could little pierce the hide of her children. She had lost a few, it was true, but they had served their purpose in the end. Now, she reached out telepathically in the night, sending visions of herself far and wide to entice newcomers to her hive, that she might make them of her own. She could feel their differing physiologies; the material they would bring unto her would be extensively useful. Her first outsider quarry was a group of stout biped men with weapons befitting their stature. They’d posed some small challenge to capture, but she would allow a few to escape: at least, after they had been impregnated, and she would stay the hand of her hatchlings until they had returned to their homes. Then, she would allow her seed to propagate similarly across the planet. For, of course, this was her only objective: Control the planet through her progeny. And there was plentiful wildlife to turn to her own, from grey-blue, violent bipedal creatures to proud, strong, long-maned, hooved quadrupeds. They all fell to her dream assault, her immense telepathic presence turning her into their deity. They marched en masse into the mines to be turned, their numbers becoming hers as they were impregnated and parasitized. Word had begun to spread among the kingdoms of a terror inside Moria. The tales told of a great dark monster with crystalline teeth and a black crown, who turned men and beast alike unto its brood. The problem in the kingdoms’ communications came in the form of secrecy and deceit: None were willing to admit that their dreams had been pervaded with terrifying, awe-inspiring images of this Lord of Night, as they had taken to calling it. They could see it in their sleep, feel its presence looming in their mind when they were waking, and perhaps most frighteningly, they were hesitant to kill it, as it exuded magnificence and power, and to attempt its destruction may only incur its wrath and end its splendor. Thus the delegation at Rivendell, excluding those who had once felt the corruption of the One Ring, spoke endlessly of containment over eradication. The kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan were represented appropriately, but not by those men who had felt the vitriol the Ring evoked. Thranduil himself appeared to represent Mirkwood, and Elrond was the host of the invoked gathering. A near-nameless dwarf king represented his entire race, and the Hobbits didn’t bother to send a delegation. No other races had been invited or informed to appear to discuss the greatest evil since Sauron begat the War for the Ring. Ergo, neither orcs, goblins, or werewolves, nor trolls, ents, or spiders were allowed to discuss their fate, as the elves detested them each but for ents, whom they respected but thought their numbers too few. In essence, the Fellowship lived on in memorial action, though many of the peoples of Middle-Earth had fallen back into their ways of petty discourse and war. In Rivendell did the convention speak in hushed tones, fearing the inferring of fear amongst their number by another, in that such a showing would emplace weakness upon their people in the minds of potential enemies. And so, speaking from false boldness, the many chose to send forth parties of their own toward Moria, to collect in Rivendell and ride southward thus. In one month’s time, the assorted factions had gathered themselves for a journey to Moria from Rivendell and marched forward, spirits beginning low as their visions of a desolate future under the Lord of Night where its spawn reigned made them more certain of their failure. The Queen met their forces with several thousand of her own drones and warriors taken from the miles surrounding Moria. Her brood had converted the mines’ walls to a resinous compilation of her own making, which allowed them places to hide and ambush them as her forces feigned weakness, gathering inside the mines for the war party to follow. *** “Thus we must take this task above all others upon ourselves: To slay the Lord of Night and bring an end to the terror of its brood. Who among you cannot speak to the horrors you have endured to reach this place? Not one, I can be assured. It is not in spite of your ordeals, but because of them, that you have found the courage—nay, the will—to fight to end night’s reign over Middle-Earth. It is for you that I raise my sword, and for each other and all others that you must as well. By the end of our great mission, each and all of us will be as the great heroes of old!” Aragorn punctuated his speech by raising his sword. Fifty thousand men, dwarves, and elves raised their swords with him. ***** So, in summary: fifty thousand men, dwarves, and elves, led by Aragorn, have to enter Moria, navigate the mines, and fight about ten thousand drones and warriors before finally reaching the Queen in the deepest part of the mines and killing her as well. Assume the numbers to be something like 40,000 men, 9,500 dwarves, and 500 elves, and 8,000 drones, 2,000 warriors, a handful of praetorians, and the Queen. Of the Fellowship, only Aragorn and Legolas are present.
  17. Here is the first entry from the co-winner of the September 2020 CBUB, the HoF-debuting corvette1710! Welcome to the club, corvette, and congrats on getting a fairly rare perfect rating on this from the CBUB community! The noonday sun turned the dunes of the Sahara a brilliant white, beautifully pristine slopes extending past the horizon, the only evidence that anything else existed being the incredible azure expanse above it, cloudless and clear. It was here that the armies of the Scorpion King would soon march. If one listened, one could hear their footsteps, their immense thunderous din, from over the horizon. So great was the number of soldiers that they were coordinated not by terse command, but by sonorous horn, for even the loudest voice could not carry over an entire column of marching infantrymen. Each man in the army was trained and conditioned, each equipped with a long spear and a hide shield, and a short sword at their hip. Officers rode horses of impeccable breed, and their rank was emblazoned on a metal tag hung from a leather thong about their neck, ranging from tin to steel. But the true majesty of the army was the King himself. Mathayus was a warrior of unmatched prowess—the greatest to ever live, most would agree. His physique was as if sculpted from marble, rippling muscles and long, flowing black hair draped over broad shoulders. He was unarmored, and this would not change come time for battle. He was an Akkadian, the last of his kind, a legendary assassin made ruler by right of combat, having killed Memnon the Conqueror some two years prior. His copper skin glistened with sweat, for the desert reached more than one hundred degrees this time of day. He rode on camelback, his preferred steed due to their intelligence relative to horses. On his hips he wore twin scimitars, and in a saddlebag were many other implements of murder and war. On his face was an aggrieved expression. “Do you believe we will be victorious in Thebes?” “The answer has not changed, my love. Waset will elude you. I must again ask you not march on the city—take another target, any other, and you may yet succeed,” the sorceress Cassandra said with a sigh. Mathayus would not meet her eye, his jaw set as he looked out over the dunes. She knew he would not be swayed. Thebes—or Waset, to residents of the former Upper Kingdom—was a target Mathayus had his heart set upon acquiring. Her hand rested on his face, and he put his own hand on hers in order to gently pull it away. “I cannot heed you, sorceress. Menes has been pushed back time and again—Thebes is his last stronghold before Aswan, a far less defensible city. Balthazar would want us to continue.” Mathayus finally looked to Cassandra, their eyes meeting for the first time in that conversation. Balthazar had been lost a year prior on the campaign, but not fallen in battle—assassinated and killed in single combat, by the looks of things. He was found without spine or skull. “I will soon prove your vision wrong. Fate cannot stop me.” On the last word, Cassandra began to smile but then collapsed, almost falling from the camel if Mathayus were not there to hold her. Mathayus knew it to be a prophecy. *** The Yautja stood at the bow of his personal craft, his small, beady eyes scanned the stars ahead of him, which were overlaid by the ship’s onboard computer with the names of destinations, species of note, and warriors of merit. The great dark sea beckoned him closer, the void calling his name. He turned back to piloting apparatus and sat down, dragging a long, claw-tipped finger over the interface in order to zoom the star map into a particular area, and from there again, until he’d settled on a small system of eight planets, on which only one had notable lifeforms: N’ithya. The civilizations on N’ithya were ramshackle—perhaps a millennium had passed since the Yautja had discovered the world and brought some small measure of technology to its inhabitants in the form of pyramids. Some six or seven cultures had been visited by Yautja emissaries, who were hailed on arrival as gods. The Yautja tapped N’ithya on his console and the planet expanded to fill his view, a large hologram showing its topography with small areas filled in to mark civilizational boundaries and dots to mark notable warriors’ rough locations on last scan. Something piqued his interest, now that he examined N’ithya more closely: A large shaded area on the map showed the territory of one called the Scorpion King. A blinking area of shaded land signified territorial expansion, and this blinking area had last been updated one year prior, when the Yautja challenged and defeated a warrior in the region. But the cluster of dots signifying worthy warriors was still significant. The Yautja mulled over the idea of taking them all as he cycled through their files until finally he rested on the greatest of them: The Scorpion King himself. Just looking at the warrior king excited the Yautja, his mandibles extending and retracting and a long, clicking growl projecting from his throat. Yes…this is the prey. *** A great, white moon. A black sky tinged with the red and orange of a burning city, towers of smoke billowing into the air. The blaring of war horns, the waving of great red flags. Above it all, glowing yellow eyes. The scene changes. The desert is quiet and gray beneath the moon’s pale light. The clang of clashing weapons is in the air as Mathayus meets blades with a hulking form. His twin scimitars are locked against some sort of gauntlet blade, and she can see his white teeth gritted in struggle. The huge figure’s back is to her, so she can’t see its face, only the dreadlocks on its head and the glint of its armor. Its skin is a mottled yellow, and as she watches it raises the hand that isn’t keeping Mathayus at bay, two blades on its wrist catching the light of the moon. A flash of metal blinds her, and she is awake. Above her head is a war tent, and she lies on the bed of a stationary palanquin. As she rolls over to get up, she notices Mathayus watching her from a stool on the other side of the room. It seems to take him a moment to recognize she has awoken. “It has never been so severe,” he said as he rose to go to her side. “Your visions have been taking a greater toll on you these last years. They didn’t used to.” “They have also become... more severe. More specific. More grim.” “What have you foreseen?” Mathayus grabbed a pitcher of wine and a goblet, poured the former to fill the latter, and brought it to her lips. She sipped gratefully. “It is hard to divine. I saw a great moon and a burning city—Thebes, if I correctly recognize the symbols on the flags. I saw no direct indication of victory for you, nor for Menes. In the sky I saw… something that looked like glowing, yellow eyes. Cruel eyes. But it is the second half of my vision that worries me most: I see you in combat under the moonlight with a warrior of incredible stature and strange weaponry. You were under great strain to hold him back. The vision ended with flashing steel, and no victor was shown to me.” Mathayus frowned for a moment, looking pensive, then spoke. “If Thebes is burning in your vision, it is likely that we have breached its great walls. This may be a sign of imminent victory.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “It is five days to the full moon, as you described. We will reach Thebes in three. Rest up.” *** The Yautja reached N’ithya the same day the siege of Thebes began. With a slide along his command console, the ship began to descend through the planet’s atmosphere, cloaking itself so as to be indistinguishable from the clouds and sky to the simple oomans below. The ship landed outside the view or hearing distance of any path taken by an ooman in the last year. Disembarking onto the shimmering sand, the Yautja’s face turned into something like a grin, or whatever would pass for it among his people. The time would soon come to face down his true prey—along the way, though, was small game. Night began to fall and the siege continued to rage. It was a simple matter for the Yautja to scale Thebes’s walls along the far side of the city under cloaking device. The city watch was too busy keeping up with signals from the walls under siege to notice him as he made his way toward the royal palace. King Menes’s guard were not great warriors, and they died as they lived: Inconsequentially. The Yautja pushed open the doors to the king’s chambers and found the king was ready for an attacker. The muscular man brandished a polearm and swung it at the alien’s form with vigor. Vigor that was all but useless before the might of the Yautja. With a raised arm he caught the shaft of the weapon just below the head and broke it off, the blade clattering impotently to the floor. “What are you?” the man asked, fear invading his eyes. It was a question the Yautja had heard from oomans many times over the years, but even if he could understand beyond contextual implication what they were asking, he wouldn’t answer. They were game to him, and game didn’t need reasoning. Game existed to be hunted. “What are you?” the Yautja shot back at him in a warbled, mangled version of his own question, in his own voice, then rushed forward and extended his wristblades at the same time, such that the two were one motion. The king was too slow and caught both wristblades in the chest, and the Yautja picked him up one-handed, the bleeding king kicking helplessly at empty air, unable to scream due to his punctured and lacerated lungs. Blood bubbled from the king’s lips as he looked at something behind the Yautja. That was all the indication necessary for the Yautja to turn and catch the thrown knife before it hit him in the back of the head. In the doorway was the true object of his hunt: The Scorpion King. An excited, trilling growl left his mouth as he dropped the dying king. *** Mathayus knew Thebes’s walls could hold his armies at bay for years if they had to—the only option to win here was to assassinate leadership within Thebes—the king and his generals had to die. He figured he could start with the king, who would be by far the hardest mark as a result of his combat prowess and status, meaning he could give Mathayus a fight on even terms and that he had bodies between him and Mathayus. Killing others first meant more bodies could be dedicated to Menes. But while stealthily navigating Menes’s castle, he not only met little resistance, he found dead guardsmen littered throughout the citadel. When he finally reached the royal bedchamber, he found the towering form of the Yautja with its back turned. A knife left his hand within moments, but something must’ve tipped the thing off to his presence, because in a blur of motion it turned and caught it. Mathayus drew his scimitars, glancing out the window. No smoking buildings. The infiltration teams he’d sent in must not have finished setting the keg charges yet. The huge thing took thudding steps toward him, bent low in a challenge position, ready to pounce as the two began to circle one another. Like a flash it was on him, and he was hard-pressed to even parry the giant’s thrust. The weapons on its arm were very strange—two parallel blades attached to a gauntlet. He returned with a strike to its head that merely glanced off its large facemask, then followed that ineffective blow with a knee to its unarmored thigh. It was like he was hitting a rock. He grit his teeth and leapt back to try to put distance between himself and the monster. It didn’t allow him space as it used its unbladed hand to deck him across the face, sending him sprawling onto the balcony, thumping against the stone columns of the baluster. Mathayus looked up and cursed. The moon was not yet full. The prophecy was yet to come. But that, he realized, brought with it an advantage. He had to live to see the prophecy. He looked back at the Yautja as he stood, feigning weakness. He didn’t know if it would fall for his ploy. It leapt at him, and fell right into his trap. Mathayus dropped beneath the charging alien and used its forward momentum to put it over the side of the railing. It caught the stone, its claws digging into the masonry as it dangled over the courtyard some hundred feet below. “It’s not time for me to die!” Mathayus raised a scimitar to chop at the hand of the thing, but it let go, saying in his own voice: “It’s not time for me to die!” Mathayus recoiled—that was Balthazar’s voice. He sounded desperate; he sounded afraid. Balthazar had never been afraid before. Was this thing what had happened to him? What had killed him so brutally? It landed hard, cracking the stone beneath its feet, and let out a chilling laugh, then Mathayus lost sight of it, despite his wide, enraged eyes tracking it with inhuman intent the entire time. Two days later, Thebes was on its last legs and Mathayus’s infiltrators had successfully breached the city walls. Mathayus watched from the riverbank as the smoke curled into the sky, framing the full moon. Tonight is the night. Mathayus glanced over to the dunes every once in a while as he pored over battle plans, and it was nearly midnight before he saw anything. It was brief—perhaps a trick of the eyes—but he thought he saw a flash of yellow eyes, just as Cassandra described in her vision. He studied the area for a moment more before deciding he would leave to face his fate, be that to emerge victorious or to die at the beast’s hands. Cassandra’s vision had been unclear as to the outcome of this battle, but in the past she had seen him shot and killed and yet he still lived. He took his scimitars with him, but left the other gear—it would only slow him down, and he needed every ounce of agility he could afford. He knew his assailant was faster than it had any right to be. He also knew it had taken his friend, a life companion and true warrior. He took in the details of the desert around Thebes as he walked into the dunes. Behind him, Cassandra watched with resignation. She had been trying to further divine for Mathayus before he left, but no vision was forthcoming. The sky above was dark, and would’ve been full of stars for Mathayus to see but for the smoke and fire of Thebes. All there was to look at was the moon, and the desert the color of bone in its light. After a few minutes of walking, Mathayus came upon a flat, clear area between three large sand dunes. Standing in the middle of the desert glade was the beast. It stared him down as he approached. It was easily seven feet tall, he could see, with a broad body and muscular limbs. It wore a loincloth with a metal belt, two metal gauntlets, and a broad facemask, but was otherwise nude and unarmored. As Mathayus drew to dueling distance of about ten paces, it slowly reached up and unhooked a dreadlock from its head, a sharp hiss escaping from it as it detached. It placed its hands upon the facemask almost gingerly, and then removed it slowly, ritualistically exposing the most disgusting creature the Scorpion King had ever encountered. “You’re even uglier than Balthazar.”
  18. Here is SSJRuss's second winning July entry: I can still feel the weight of the bottle in my hand, so I must not have dozed for long. I open one eye to see the light coming from a slit in the curtain. I get up, pull back the curtain, it’s already morning. The sun stretches across my Montana Ranch, dewy grass reflecting the light onto me and my living room. I close the curtain, letting the natural dark return. I go back to my armchair and my drinking. Scotch is my only companion during this damn pandemic. “I haven’t left home in months. It’s driving me crazy.” I’m the only one to hear my words. It echoes down the halls of my house. Maybe it’s the scotch or the lack of sleep, but talking aloud seems to help calm my nerves. “This house is too damn quiet.” I consider turning on the stereo. Maybe it will wake me up more. But I can feel my eyes droop, so I know I probably wouldn’t find a record to listen to anyway. Honestly, this damn chair is too comfortable to get up. That was why I bought it. Great for sitting and thinking. Terrible purchase. I give up the effort of standing. I take another drink and let my eyes settle. Something on my left breaks the quiet. I push open my eyes and look to the shelf I left my phone on. I hadn’t touched it in days so it should be dead. The noise is gone as fast as it came, so I couldn’t even register what it was. “Hearing things ya’ old fart.” Even if it is the phone, it is likely more bad news about the world. Everything is going to hell while things seem to stand-still. Makes me regret coming here, thinking it was a good idea to isolate. I look at the bottle next to me. Guess I don’t do so well with isolation. “I kicked this habit a long time ago, so why am I doing this to myself? You’re pathetic, Michael.” A voice responds, “You can say that again!” My back stiffens with a chill and my body responds as if I hadn’t spent the night drinking. My eyes dart around the room and notice the light coming through the curtain again. It’s just a sliver but… now there’s a pattern to it that reflects along the wall. Horizontal stripes stretching across the room. “Who's there?” My voice echoes just like it did a minute ago. Now, I don’t feel so comfortable. I may be old, but my hearing works just fi-- The voice cuts off my thought, “Only the ghost with the most, Mikey!” I recognize that voice. It’s-- “Talking to yourself again, Mikey? And here I thought I was the crazy one!” The voice belongs to me. I see myself step from a shadow in the corner. I’m dressed as Betelgeuse from the Beetlejuice movie I did in the eightys. The sight of him makes me slip from my chair, I drop the bottle on the way down. The liquor soaks my carpet as Betelgeuse walks closer. “I don’t… How did you get in here?” I ask. The Betelgeuse me was as young as the day I played him all those years ago. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stops to stand there and stare at me. I realize I’m staring into my own eyes. I can feel the panic settling in my stomach next to the booze. Somehow my hand finds my chair and I pull myself up to my knees. I’ve dealt with crazed fans before, but none of them have ever broken into my house. “You some kind of nut, huh? Some dressed up freak!?” I need to find my gun. “Oh geez.” Betelgeuse covers his mouth with his hand. “I forgot my mask, didn’t I? Dang. I had a really nice one too. It had all these teeth and worms--” I could tell by his expression he was mocking me. He starts pulling things out of his pockets to continue this sick joke. I tell him to leave but instead he pulls out sand and a few shrunken heads from his pockets. “Crap, I uh, must have left it in my nice suit. No worries.” He gets closer to me and my body feels like it’s going into shock. I try to stand but he kneels in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. I can’t explain how, but this guy was me. “Like a mirror, right? Well, a more handsome, youthful mirror but hey, can’t win them all!” He laughs and I see the crooked teeth I wore during filming Beetlejuice. “How did you get here? Why do--” “Look like you? Because I am you! Geez, you Hollywood types really do forget about the people that got you where you are.” I hear the crackle of his spine as he stands and looks down on me. As if he is ashamed of me. “No… You're not real.” I reach out slowly. I needed to be sure. “Want to test that?” he says back to me. The stench of his breath wafts over me and the whiskey sitting in my stomach rears up my throat and onto the floor. He doesn’t say anything but when I finish, I hear something from the other side of the room. It’s music. It’s faint, just in the background like it was far away. It’s an all too familiar instrumental from the Batman movie I did years ago. I raise my head to see, but my vision is still hazy. I squint at a vague outline of a man in the shadowy corner. Betelgeuse looks to the same corner and shrieks, “Batman!?” Betelgeuse is right. It is Batman. But not just Batman, he is me. My suit. My height. My dark expression behind a mask. He steps into the striped light, practically gliding as he reaches the scotch drenched spot on the carpet. I stare, but I find no words to say. Betelgeuse doesn’t have that problem. “God damn! I can’t believe this.” Betelgeuse approaches Batman with excitement and shakes his hand. “I tell you sir, sir, it’s been a pleasure to meet you in this existential crisis. Really it’s an honor. Big fan here. Tell me, have you ever worked with Ozzy?” My Batman shoves him backward. “Social distancing, clown. Or should I call you by your real name?” Betelgeuse’s seriousness came back to him. He points his finger at Batman, “Go ahead, make my millennium! You can’t hurt me, Brucey!” Instead of answering him, Batman turns to me. “You’re sick. You need help. I can give you that.” “NO!” Betelgeuse gets between me and Batman. “He’s fine here. Have you seen this guy? Most stable guy I know!” “Don’t test me.” Batman’s voice shutters through my body. Damn, I could give a performance. “I’m just doing my job, okay! I don’t make the rules here, he does.” Betelgeuse points his thumb back at me without taking his eyes off Batman. With my stomach now empty, I manage to stand and get in my chair. I still don’t understand why this is happening. “I’ve gone crazy. You’re both me.” They ignore me. “I can tell, that you can tell, that I know what he really wants. He needs total immersion theory and lucky for him, I’m what you’d call a professional. Hold on, let me show you my card.” Betelgeuse starts going through his pockets again. Batman takes one stride and grabs him by his collar, lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength. “Tell me something. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” Betelgeuse tilts his head, then whispers, “Between you and me, we did a lot more than dance if you know what I mean--” Batman throws him against the wall, but Betelgeuse shakes it off immediately. “You wanna get nuts?” He grabs a vase from the table and smashes it, “C’mon then, let’s get nuts!” Battle for Michael Keaton’s mind- Batman (1989) vs. Betelgeuse (Beetlejuice, 1988)
  19. And now, the first entry from electricferret's second repeat-tourney winner, SSJRuss. You're making history, Russ! FADE IN: EXT. ELECTRIC FERRET STUDIOS, UNNAMED METROPOLIS -- EARLY MORNING We open on a marble white building, twenty-five stories tall. The building stands alone and the camera pans down to an empty parking lot. Trees wrap around the parking lot, creating a natural fence for privacy. A black Nissan Versa pulls into the lot, parking in the first space closest to the building. A young twenty-something man gets out of the car. Camera pans up from his shoes to the nametag he places on his chest. It reads: SSJRuss. SSJRuss (27), hair is neat, wears a white button-up shirt tucked into his khakis. He adjusts his glasses and makes a note of the time on his wrist watch. 7:15am. SSJRuss: First one here. No surprise. I don’t understand why Mr. Fox doesn’t just fire them already. As the camera rises, SSJRuss walks into the building. We get a glimpse of the logo on top of the building. It reads: Electric Ferret Studios. INT. LOBBY OF EF STUDIOS He walks across the empty lobby, reaches the elevator, and steps in, choosing the 12th floor. The camera sits with SSJRuss bobbing his head to the elevator music. SIMULATION FLOOR OF EF STUDIOS Elevator doors open. Dozens of cubicles line the main room, all of which are empty. Some desks are decorated or have papers scattered about. Others are covered with a thick film of dust, long unused. The auto-lights flicker to life as he walks down a row to find his cubicle. Camera pans around the room, showcasing several cubicles as it narrows to SSJRuss’s cubicle. We see his co-worker OMFG’s cubicle to the right. Pictures of Me Gusta faces taped to the inside of his cube. The computer screen is frozen on a page of ‘Dungeon Mastering for Dummies’. On the left, the station of employee Confession FPT is decorated with imagery from the Tekken franchise. A figure of Kuma the Bear sits on the desk, with its head bobbing. SSJRuss steps inside his cubicle. It is decorated with anime figures, a small stack of science fiction novels and a Spider-Man lamp. He takes a seat in his swivel chair and boots the computer. The black screen turns white and reads ‘Simulations Control Panel’ CUT TO: WALKWAY OF THE SIMULATIONS FLOOR, CAMERA ZOOMS TO THE WATER-COOLER -- MORNING A cup centers on the camera. The cup is being filled with water at a water-cooler by a male. His name tag reads OMFG. OMFG (23), exceptionally handsome, thin with a dark tan complexion. His attire matches that of SSJRuss as it is the standard uniform for employees of Electric Ferret Studios. He fills the cup as SSJRuss approaches to do the same. SSJRuss: Hey man, how’s those monthlies coming? The camera fixes on them both. Noise from other employees working fills in as background. OMFG: Monthlies? Oh right, the simulation bracket. I haven’t found anything yet. Still searching the database. SSJRuss: The month is almost over, dude. What’s the hold up? OMFG: I’ve been… preoccupied. SSJRuss: Yeah I saw your screen this morning. You’re learning about dungeon mastering instead of running the simulations-- OMFG: So what? You can’t tell me you don’t goof off too. SSJRuss: Maybe, but I do take what we do seriously. SSJRuss and OMFG simultaneously sip water from their cups as they look back at the simulation floor. The camera focuses on Bergy_Berg, another employee, as he meets eyes with SSJRuss. OMFG: Bergy’s working today? Isn’t he your rival? SSJRuss: Fuck that guy. OMFG lets out a short laugh then goes to fill his water cup again. OMFG: Hey, his simulations kick yours in the ass. SSJRuss: They do not. Peypeypeypey, another employee in the white shirt and khakis, enters the scene. Peypeypeypey: Actually they do. Peypeypeypey passes SSJRuss and OMFG to put water in his coffee mug. Peypeypeypey: Hey, OMFG, get those monthlies done? SSJRuss looks back at OMFG, raising his eyebrows and giving him an expression of ‘I told you, so.’ OMFG: No, Pey. I haven’t. What about you? Peypeypeypey: I’m caught up through October. SSJRuss: How? You’re hardly here! Peypeypeypey: It’s called being a professional. Something you two wouldn’t know anything about. Right, DSkillz? DSkillz answers from off-screen. DSkillz: Hell yeah. Get good scrubs. A tremor in the earth shakes the building, cutting off the office conversation. Everyone grabs hold of something, either it is a cubicle or the wall. The water in the cooler ripples with consecutive tremors. Everyone steadies themselves and rushes to the large glass windows on the other side of the room. The view of the city now shows Godzilla appearing on the horizon. He is crashing through buildings and directly facing the Electric Ferret building. The Boob Tube: Is that Godzilla? Like, THE Godzilla? Nesh: Oh damn, he’s coming this way. Confession FPT: What? Peypeypeypey: That’s Godzilla, alright. Coming straight at us. IKA: Wow. Dude, we’re boned. Z451: Someone call the penthouse. Mr.Fox isn’t gonna like this. OMFG: Wait, why does he want to kill us? Anybody got beef with Godzilla? DSkillz: Pey? The entire group looks at Peypeypeypey, then looks to his cubicle that is adorned with Godzilla paraphernalia. Peypeypeypey: Don’t look at me. His simulation record is crisp. They look onto Godzilla making his way through the city. SSJRuss: Good lord, he’s hauling ass. He’s definitely pissed at someone. The Boob Tube: We’re gonna die. OMFG: This one’s on Pey. I’m calling it now. Confession FPT: I’ll take that bet. OMFG: What? IKA: Yeah, me too. This is definitely Pey’s fault. He’s the Godzilla guy. OMFG: Good thing I didn’t waste my time getting caught up through October, huh Pey? SSJRuss: Wait guys, look. In-between the Electric Ferret building and Godzilla appears another giant. It is Ultraman 80 from his self-titled show in 1980. His back is facing the building as he leaps to engage Godzilla in battle. Nesh: Is that Ultraman? Confession FPT: No, looks like some cheap knock off. Bergy_Berg: That costume is terrible. He has a nose on his mask. SSJRuss: It’s supposed to make him look more human, Berg. He’s gotta be a role model for kids. IKA: He's a giant too. Think he’ll protect us? SSJRuss: That’s sort of his thing. Confession FPT: I bet he loses. I’ve got cottage cheese that’s stronger than this guy. Peypeypeypey: Yeah, Godzilla’s gonna bulldoze him. SSJRuss: He’s trying to save us. Maybe we shouldn’t bet against him. Bergy_Berg: Twenty bucks says Godzilla piledrives him into the dirt. OMFG: You’re on, pal. Everyone pulls swivel chairs from their cubicles to the window to watch the fight unfold. A pile of money is put on the desk as the betting pot. FADE OUT: So here we have Ultraman 80 vs Heisei Era Godzilla. This is Pre-Ghidorah Godzilla so he only has feats that he showcased in The Return of Godzilla and Godzilla vs. Biollante. Ultraman 80 has similar powers as other Ultramen, as well as the three minute time-limit. So Ultraman has three-minutes to stop Godzilla from destroying Electric Ferret Studios. After three-minutes, Ultraman returns to his human form and loses.
  20. Here is SSJRuss's 2nd July entry: Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street? To Sesame Street! To Sesame Street! Sesame Street… Cookie Monster appears in front of a blue backdrop. He stands behind a table. The table has an empty plate on top. Cookie Monster holds a large sack over his shoulder. “Oh ah. Hello. Ha Ha… Me is Cookie Monster. Today, ah--” He stares at the camera, eyes glossy. “Oh yes. Today we learn about accidents. Yes, accidents. Accidents happen. Cookie Monster was in a cookie accident. Nevermind Cookie Monster’s band-aid.” The camera switches over to a different backdrop. This one is yellow with Abby Cadabby in front. “Cookie Monster wasn’t supposed to talk about accidents that day. He was assigned the letter ‘O’.” Big Bird sits next to Mr. Snuffleupagus on the front steps of his home. “He wasn’t paying attention, but we could tell something was wrong with him, right, Mr. Snuffleupagus?” He nods with his long hairy trunk and Big Bird continues, “Would you wear a bandaid and not tell anybody how you got it? And what was with that sack?” Back to Cookie Monster, who has put his sack on the table. “Okay. Me going to show you what’s in the--” “Hey, Cookie Monster!” calls a high-pitched voice from offscreen. Elmo joins him in the shot, smiling as usual. Cookie Monster is startled. “Oh, Elmo. I didn’t see you there.” “How are you doing?” Elmo asked. “Me fine, me fine. I was just about--” “What’s in that bag?” Elmo asked, reaching for the opening of the sack. Cookie Monster stares at him and pulls it away. “Me was going to show them, Elmo. These special--” Elmo notices the band-aid on Cookie Monster’s arm. “Oh, Cookie Monster, what happened to your arm!?” he cried. “That. That nothing Elmo, leave it alone.” Elmo tries to grab Cookie Monster’s arm to get a closer look. Cookie Monster is pulling away. The two of them engage in a tousle before Elmo gives up. “It was accident!” Cookie Monster shouts, “Accidents happen!” “Yes they do,” Elmo agrees, “I’m- I’m glad you’re okay, but I think you should see a doctor.” “No, me fine,” Cookie said as he reached into his bag. The camera swings to Elmo later on. He’s sitting in a chair, interview style. “He wasn’t fine.” Back to Cookie Monster, who pours the bag onto the table, revealing bread with smiley faces on them. “This is toast. Okay? It like a cookie. It crunchy. It munchy. Oh, it’s very good--” Cookie Monster jams the toast in his mouth, crumbs and pieces falling all over the place. “Toast?” Elmo inspects one of the smilies. “Where’d you get these, Cookie Monster?” Cookie eats a second toast before he answers, “Me found them…” He continues eating. The camera switches back to Big Bird on the steps. “We have no idea where he got that toast. We were all concerned so we started an intervention.” Mr. Snuffleupagus nods next to him. The camera goes back to Cookie Monster, but time has elapsed. He’s sitting behind a round table and his Sesame Street friends are with him. They are all looking at the half empty bag of ‘toast’. “None of the kids said they made these, Cookie Monster,” Abby says, “You didn’t buy them and we didn’t make any, so we want to know where you found them?” “Me… don’t want to say. Me, embarrassed.” Cookie Monster responds, fumbling with his fingers. “What does embarrassed mean?” asks Javi, a four year old boy, standing next to Big Bird. Big Bird leans down to the child, “Well Javi, it’s when you are afraid of what someone might think about you. Like if they’ll still be your friend or not.” He gestures to the others. “We’ll all still be Cookie Monster’s friends, won’t we?” Everyone at the table cheers and agrees. Grover pats Cookie Monster’s arm, avoiding the band-aid. “It’s okay, Cookie Monster. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything.” “Me know.” Cookie Monster looks down at the table until he raises his head to look at everyone gathered around him. “Thank you for being friends. Me tell you where I found them. On a trip. Far away from Sesame Street.” “But how did you hurt your arm?” Big Bird asks. Before Cookie Monster answers, several loud metal thuds sound from outside and the camera shakes as the Sesame Street residents jump up from the table and rush to the window. The Count makes it to the window first and laughs, “Ah, ah, ah! We have new guests! One, two, three, four guests!” From outside, a faint singing could be heard. “And what is that they are carrying?” the Count continues, “One, two, three, four bats! Ah, ah, ah!” Abby Kadabby tilted her head, confused. “Bats?” “Baseball bats! Ah, ah, ah!” Ernie points and gasps, “That’s Oscar’s trash can! It’s all bashed in!” The camera pans away from the table where Cookie Monster is shoving as much toast as he can into his mouth and jostles as it finds a place to film at the window. The area is crowded and the viewer can barely see past a clump of Big Bird’s feathers. Four large, tubby-looking figures sway down the street to the rhythm of their own song. One purple. One green. One yellow. One red. “They’re scary,” Javi whimpers from somewhere offscreen. “Tinky Winky,” the purple one sings, spinning its bat in a circle. It seems to hear Javi’s whimper, as it stops in front of 123 Sesame Street and looks directly into the second floor window. “Dipsy!” sings the green one, excitedly kicking Oscar’s can onto the ground. The yellow one smashes a window across the street with its bat. “Laa-laa!” The red one brings his bat down on Oscar’s head, “PO!” Everyone gasps and Javi starts to cry for his mommy. Tinky Winky stares at the camera through the window and whispers, “Tubby toast...” Big Bird knocks the camera back as the Sesame Street gang all turn to look at Cookie Monster. The table is empty and Cookie Monster is frantically licking up tubby toast crumbs. “Ah-- It was accident you see. Accidents happen.”
  21. This is the first entry for the winner of the July 2020 CBUB Tournament, the HoF-debuting SSJRuss. Congrats! PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale PLUS EDITION It has risen again! The dubious skeletal knight, Sir Daniel Fortesque, opened his one good eye. Ah, Sir Daniel Fortesque. Awake again. What fortuitous timing he had, the Hero of Gallowmere. He slept quite a long time after the Polygon Man’s defeat. He stepped out and down the threshold of his casket, old bones crackling with new life. It appeared that the energy he’d been awarded after that dashing victory over the polygon monster had kept his skeletal body in good condition. Not a bone out of place. But all that time had let evil fester. As a decorated hero in the Hall of Heroes, it was his duty to answer the new threat. “Mwah?" he mumbled. (Me?) Yes! Who else could undo all the chaos that Zarok brought forth? Or undo the doings of the Polygon Man? Our courageous knight put a finger to what was left of his jaw, likely considering who else but him could do the job. Of course, there was no one but him. Sir Daniel would not neglect a chance to prove himself once again. Times changed and long gone were the effects of Zarok’s magic. No one was left to remember his bravery against evil. Soon. Soon the world would remember. And the Kingdom of Gallowmere would forever praise the name, Sir Daniel Fortesque! *** Brook wandered alone. The valley before him riddled with broken rock and rusted metal. A grassy meadow blanketed what he could see, the path edged my surrounding forest on each side. "Luffy?" He called. Nothing. He tried again, "Zoro?" Nothing. He called out each name of his fellow Straw Hat Pirates. He hadn't seen them since that strange blue energy erupted above the Thousand Sunny and lifted them into the air, vanishing one by one. An attack by a devil fruit user, surely? Bartholomew Kuma had done something similar to them two years ago. Brook and his crewmates trained hard so this wouldn’t happen again. “Yooohoo,” Brook called out, anxiously strumming his guitar to fill the silence. His voice and music carried through the valley. If anyone heard him, they didn’t make it known. He looked around this new wasteland. Vegetation grew wildly around him. The only simbelence of people were the derelict skyscrapers at the edge of his vision. But they too were overcome with vegetation. "Am I the only one alive?" The wind passing through his ribcage reminded him that he was otherwise. “Yo! Skull-joke! Yo ho ho ho!” No one laughed. “Oh, Usopp would have found that funny.” He strummed a low note on the guitar. He continued down the valley, humming to the tune of his guitar. "Hmm hmm hmm hmmmm, hm hmm hmm hmmmm-" Reaching the base of a hill, he heard something rustle in the forest on his right. “Yo ho ho! Is that you Usopp?” Brook's skeletal chest swelled with excitement at the thought of reuniting with his friends. He ran towards the noise. “Did you hear my skull joke?” *** Sir Daniel Fortesque rustled through the forest. He’d gotten lost after leaving his crypt, everything on the outside changed. The entirety of Gallowmere was in ruin, replaced by wildlands and noisy machines. And turkeys. One scampered across his foot as he furthered into the woods. How could all of this be? Had he been too late to save Gallowmere from destruction? He hadn’t seen any sign of people either. Where had they all gone? As if to answer his curiosity, a voice called out. It was ahead of him just past the trees. Sir Daniel was sure that this was his ticket to the answers he sought. His armor clinked, running with legs outstretched to cover considerable distance. His vision bobbed up and down when a silhouetted figure came into view at the end of the forest. It was tall, but the shape was completely unrecognizable. *** Brook, who entered the forest moments earlier, saw a glint of something deep in the woods ahead. His plea seemed to have been answered. That glint must be from Franky's armor reflecting the light. “Franky!? It’s me, your friend Brook!” He swung his arms in a wide arc. *** Sir Daniel saw the figure begin to wave. Could this be an ally? Another hero lost due to the mysterious evil surrounding them? He waved back in the same manner, sprinting through the woods in hopes he could join this compatriot. *** “Yo ho ho ho!” The glint of light took shape in the distance. An image shaded by trees, Brook saw its arms waving too. He waved faster in the excitement. But as the trees thinned, Brook and Sir Daniel Fortesque came into full view of each other. "You're not Franky-" Brook said, stopping on one side of the clearing. The armor glint he saw wasn't his friend, it was an armor cladded skeleton waving its arms at him. Now out in the open, Sir Daniel saw the figure for what it is. A creature of the undead. A colorfully dressed skeleton. It hadn't been laughing but rather, screaming as it waved its arms. They put their arms down. “You’re like me--” Brook said. He stuttered over what to say next. It wasn't everyday he ran into a living skeleton such as himself. “Viihel chherrure!" (Vile creature!) Sir Daniel said, despite his missing bottom jaw. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Brook. The only undead Sir Daniel had the displeasure of meeting turned out to be enemies. And it was likely the same with this one. “Oh, ah… Excuse me, but--” Brook said as he tried to appease the other before an attack. His next sentence fell short as the skeletal knight crossed the distance between them and swung. Brook’s own sword swung through the air to match it. “HOW INCONSIDERATE!” *** This battle takes place in a forest clearing in the Horizon Zero Dawn universe. They have a 10-minute time limit until a Thunderjaw shows up in the background to attack both of them. The stage will periodically create boxes from the Crash Bandicoot series as well to give the feeling of the environment changing as the battle progresses.
  22. And this is Bergy_Berg's final September entry: Watson locked up his bicycle, scanning the park for his long-time associate. It did not take long for him to identify Holmes, dressed in his usual tweed attire. The detective leaned against a large oak; his legs stretched out before him. “You have taken your dear time Watson.” Holmes did not even turn his head, almost as if he had a preternatural ability to identify his friend. “I have sat in this park for no less than 10 minutes awaiting your arrival.” Watson chuckled to himself. “You will have to excuse me, I was not expecting to be asked to come out and enjoy nature today.” As the doctor came closer an all too familiar scent overcame him. “Holmes, you haven’t.” Sherlock pulled a pipe from under his cloak and took a puff. He exhaled, filling the air around himself and Watson with the smell of opium. “Of course, my dear Watson. There is no finer place in this city to light my pipe. This park is poorly patrolled by the local constabulary, children are currently in school, and the trees provide both shade and some protection from the noises of the city.” “So did you invite me here to ask if I would like to partake in an illegal substance?” “Of course not, I know my vices are of no interest to you. I asked you here to assist me with a mystery.” Holmes motions towards two tables about 100 feet away, where two groups sit around empty pizza boxes. “Do you notice anything strange?” Watson takes a moment, watching and listening to the two groups. He gathers his thoughts together in his head, trying to use the methods of deduction that Holmes has displayed over the years of their friendship. “Well, it appears that one of these groups is comprised of large, mutated turtle creatures, and the other has a talking dog. Both mysteries very worthy of your mind.” Holmes scoffed. “It’s elementary my dear Watson, these are hardly worthy mysteries. The ‘turtles’ you mention are obviously the result of chemical runoff, and reside in the sewers under this fine city. They appear, normally at night, to fight crime and evil ninjas. They came out today to enjoy some of New York’s finest food. And as for the talking dog, well I will not insult your intelligence by giving you the obvious explanation. Perhaps you will reason that out on your own over time.” “Then why did you call me out here.” “At first it was simply to have you take me home, as I have over-indulged in my pipe and need some help. I hope you brought the extra helmet as I asked.” Watson sighed. “Yes Holmes, I brought it. I feared I might be pedaling for the two of us. But for what other reason am I here? What is the mystery?” “Those pizzas were delivered from restaurants across town. The gang with the dog received theirs in just under the requisite half hour, a difficult but not impossible task. But the turtles received theirs far quicker, as if there were no obstacles in the path of the delivery boy. The game is afoot my dear Watson, and I will not rest until I discover the means of locomotion used to traverse this city so quickly.” Meanwhile, far above the Earth, the Huntress pressed a button to open the sliding doors to her boyfriend’s room. “Q, what are you obsessing over now?” The Question was pacing in front of a large corkboard. Strings connected pictures of pizza places, parks, and city streets. “There’s something strange happening in Queens. Pizza Time, a small pizza restaurant, was having difficulty making timely deliveries. Customers were angry, refusing to tip or even pay. That is until a month ago. Somehow this little shop is making consistent on time deliveries, regardless of traffic and supervillain activity.” “I take it our date night may be off?” “There are dark forces at work Helena. No ordinary pizza boy could do this. What means are being employed, and to what ends? Is this pizza being used to mind control the local population? Is there poison in the pepperoni? Why have the customers not asked the question?” “Can we at least grab a slice while we investigate?” she sighed. Question is a sweet man, if not a bit much to handle. “Of course, we’ll have to. How else can I run the lab tests necessary to know if these pies are part of a diabolical plot?” He caught the glare from Huntress. “Of course, we can also grab some to eat-from a less nefarious establishment.” “Fine, but you know the terms.” “Of course,” Question’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I wear the red thing later.” Sherlock Holmes and the Question are both investigating Pizza Time. The winner is the first to uncover that Peter Parker is indeed Spider-Man.
  23. Here's September entry #2 from Bergy_Berg: ‘That was hell.’ Dick Grayson jumped off his bike and grabbed the stack of pizza boxes. He had arrived in one the city’s parks. ‘Alright, looking for four teens and their dog.’ As Nightwing walked into the park, he passed another pizza boy on his way out. They gave each other the nod of two kindred souls. Just as they passed, Nightwing noticed a piece of red and blue costume sticking out of the other pizza delivery boy’s clothes. “Psst, hey buddy.” The other pizza boy turned to Nightwing. “You got a little something hanging out there Spidey.” Peter Parker looked down at his waistline, and hurriedly tucked in the exposed costume. “Oh that’s nothing! I uh, I just like cosplaying is all.” “Sure man.” Nightwing pulled a dark business card from his pocket and handed it over to his new acquaintance. “How about you call me sometime and help another quote ‘cosplayer’ get used to the big apple.” Dick could see the confusion on Peter’s face. “I’m not coming on to you, I just think someone with a Spider-eye view of the city could be helpful. And don’t ignore me Spider-Man, I know where you work.” Nightwing gave Spider-Man a wink, and carried on with his delivery. “I gotta be more careful...” Parker mutters to himself. “Like, hey man! I think that’s for us.” A shaggy looking teen called over to the former Robin. He was sat at a metal park table with three other people and a very large dog. Nightwing saw the dog barking in excitement. At least, it looked like barking. “Rizza! Rizza! Rizza ruys!” Nightwing shook his head for a moment. ‘Maybe all that car exhaust I breathe in riding my motorcycle is getting to me.’ “OK Scoob, calm down. Let him, like, put the pizzas down first.” Grayson put the pizzas down on the table. “Like, thanks man. We were starting to get major food-envy.” Shaggy motioned to a nearby table, where 4 large figures in trench coats were already divvying up their stack of pies. They looked near identical, with most of their forms cloaked by their trench coats. The only thing that differentiated them was a bit of cloth in different colors that could just be seen on the back of their heads. “Be nice Shaggy,” the young woman in the turtleneck piped up. “He got here fast enough; do you remember how hard it was getting the Mystery Machine down these streets?” Nightwing collected his payment from a guy wearing an ascot and was on his way. Shaggy and Scooby pulled bibs from seemingly nowhere, and were just about to dig in when they overheard the other table. “Pumped for these pizzas bros!” The orange one said. “Nobody digs a pizza like the Turtles dig pizza!” “Mikey,” the blue one admonished. “Easy on the Turtle talk, we’re not having lunch in the park more if you can’t keep your voice down.” “Like, yeah man,” Shaggy responded. “And you shouldn’t lie either. Nobody digs pizza like Mystery Inc. Ain’t that right gang?” Scooby-Doo responded excitedly while the other three members of the gang rolled their eyes. “Rat’s right! Robody reats rike rus!” “Whoa bro, that sounds like a challenge,” Michaelangelo piped up. “Come on Leo, we’re not gonna let some dweebs and their dog punk us on these pizzas, are we?” Raphael jumped in. “You guys think you’re better than us?” He pulled out a Sai, stabbing a slice of pizza and lifting it towards his mouth. “Nobody devours pizza faster than us!” “Zoinks, looks like we got a pizza challenge. Are you ready Scoob?” “Reah Raggy! Ret’s reat!” Leonardo jumped in. “Alright, let’s do this. On the count of three.” He pulled a katana from his back. “One...” Shaggy and Scooby quickly open up every box of pizza on their table, motioning for the rest of Mystery Inc to get ready. “Two...” The Turtles tightened their headbands. In one fluid motion, Leo sliced the tops off the pizza boxes and kicked them to the side. “THREE!” Mystery Inc and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are in a pizza eating contest. They have equal amounts of New York style pizza to get through. First team to finish wins.
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