Richard Biggs: Welcome to another lovely little episode of Beast Games-

The megascreen portrayed Berand yelling at Lazarus while in the hallway. "How am I supposed to defend my belt after fighting in a tag team match!?"

Lazarus threw his arms out wide like a bird. "Maybe you should leave your partner and let him handle your business!"

Berand shouted, "You're sabotaging me on purpose!"

"Damn straight, and you will learn respect for your general manager!" Lazarus threw his microphone down, before giving him the bird, and walking off.

Wasting came up behind him. "Look, let's just get rid of them. Lean on me..."

Richard Littles: Can you see that? Berand's yelling at the General Manager, as if that's going to get him anywhere. How does he expect to advance further in the tournament, in the championship, or in life, if he doesn't learn to shape up?

Richard Biggs: Perhaps he can get an education in Brown Nose's School For Ass Kissing. I hear you've got a doctorate.

Richard Littles: Just outright wrong, he has no respect at all, for people.

Richard Short: This match is a swiss-style match for the Tag Team Tournament. Introducing first, weighing in at a total of 604 pounds, they call themselves the Breakers of Magic, Berand and Wasting!

The lights came upon a curtain, showing the form of a swaying wolf, before the curtains parted to reveal Wasting on his back. He kissed the back of his paw, before flipping onto all fours to advance down the ring.

Meanwhile, from the side of the tunnel, came a bear who threw his arms in the air. He roared.

The audience cheered for Berand.

Richard Short: And their opponents, weighing in at a total of 220 pounds. They are the Devils In Da Skies, Arson and Harper-Jay.

Arson blew a kiss at the crowd, only to get booed. He frowned.

Harper-Jay muttered, "Not this time, Kitten."

He shook his head, as the two demonics walked down. Well technically Arson was no demon, but Harper-Jay was definitely able to go full demon form.

The two stepped inside to go toe to toe with the bigger brutes.

Wasting stared down Harper-Jay.

Harper-Jay asked, "How are you feeling, greenhorn?"

Wasting leaned his paw down to pat her on the head.

Harper-Jay slapped the spit out of him, thus starting the fight.

Wasting slapped her back, and Harper-Jay felt the pain explode on her cheek. Her jaw buckled, and she took a few steps back.

Wasting put his paws on her back, as he attempted a side mount. She whirled around, as he kept trying to get the mount, before he wrapped his legs around an arm, spun around, and flipped her over.

Richard Short: One, two-

Harper-Jay kicked out, before shooting up.

Richard Biggs: Wasting is very quick. Very technical wrestler, a grappler.

Richard Littles: This separates him from his brutish sister.

Harper-Jay jumped at Wasting, but Wasting powerslammed her into the ground, before somersaulting, grabbing the backs of her hind legs, and pinning.

Jackknife cover.

One, two-

Harper-Jay kicked out again. She growled, and bit at his arm to shatter, but Wasting ducked, before he grabbed an arm. Again, Harper-Jay twirled around, trying to get him to release, but he somersaulted towards a different leg.

He bit on her back leg, stood up, and secured the other leg with his arms.

Harper-Jay's eyes widened, and she shrieked. Right now, both her legs were crossed, one in his mouth, one trapped by his arms, meanwhile she was supported her upper body with her upper legs.

Richard Littles: I believe this is known as the Sharpshooter, or at least a variant.

Richard Biggs: Causes great pain to the spine, and legs.

Harper-Jay dragged herself on her forelimbs as she reached out towards Arson. Wasting gave Arson a wink, and Arson growled.

Finally, with a burst of strength, Harper-Jay tagged in Arson, who drop kicked Wasting. Wasting rolled away, before Arson tackled him again.

Several Arson clones circled Wasting, but as they advanced, Wasting twirled around on the backs of his shoulders or hands, and avoided each one.

Richard Littles: This wolf's been taking breakdancing classes! Incredible!

Richard Biggs: Wasting's got lots of tricks up his sleeves.

During the spin, Wasting grabbed Arson's neck with his legs, before using momentum to fling him into a ring post.

Richard Littles: Arson just wore Wasting as a necklace for a second.

Richard Biggs: The Hurricanrana, a move usually done by smaller people, but Wasting can do what he wants to do apparently.

Richard Littles: Yes, amazing athlete. Able to grapple, agile, and powerful. Can you find anyone more competent than him? Certainly not.

Richard Biggs: This team could go big.

Wasting tagged in Berand, and Berand roared, gaining audience approval.

Arson jumped onto the top rope, before leaping at Berand, but Berand grabbed and threw Arson overhead. Fall-Away Slam. Arson smashed into the mat and rolled away, back towards Harper-Jay, but Berand grabbed him by the tail and dragged him back towards the corner.

Wasting tagged in.

"I just got in!" Berand shouted.

Wasting said, "Just work with me, we have five seconds!"

Richard Biggs: When tagging in, the previous partner has five seconds to leave.

Wasting put Arson in the Sharpshooter, while Berand wrapped Arson's arms around the barbearian's thighs. Arson screamed.

Richard Biggs: His back must be as flexible as licorice.

Richard Littles: That fits my theory of him having a candy ass.

"Candy?" Berand asked, as he released Arson. He pushed Wasting away roughly.

"Dude," Wasting said, as Berand picked up Arson... upside-down.

Arson asked, "Huh?"

Berand bit down on his bottom.

Arson screamed and kicked and flailed. The referee tapped on Berand's shoulder, telling him to leave the ring immediately before disqualification.

Richard Biggs: Well guess that confirms the theory.

Berand dropped Arson on his head and left. "That wasn't candy. All he's packing back there is a whole lot of steak."

Arson blushed, before Wasting turned him around and slapped him. Arson's eyes were almost knocked from their orbitals, but he grabbed Wasting by the neck, before flipping them both backwards.

Wasting grunted as they landed, with Arson on top. Spanish Fly. Then, Arson used his energy to jump into the air, having Wasting as the launching pad, before flipped back into Wasting. Arson grabbed the back of his leg and pinned.

Wasting kicked out at one.

Arson's eyes widened, and a dark aura enshrouded him.

This triggered Harper-Jay, as her fangs grew, horns grew from her head. The hyena went demon mode.

Arson tagged in Harper-Jay, before he tackled into Wasting's chest. Wasting hit the ropes, a purple bruise appeared on him. He grunted, but Harper-Jay picked him up, and bombed him into the mat, before Arson did a drive by drop kick, and knock into the side of his head, on the jaw, just under where jaw meets ear.

To finish the flurry of offense off, Harper-Jay got Wasting into a quick fireman's carry, only to find herself knocked off her feet. Wasting had shifted his weight, and forced Harper into a pin.

Richard Biggs: A crucifix bomb.

Richard Littles: Pretty rare.

Harper-Jay kicked out at 2.9. Wasting stared at the referee, and demanded a number, but the referee said only three. Wasting didn't get the full pin.

Still having a blurred vision, Wasting took a few steps back from Harper-Jay. Harper-Jay butted into his chest, before shooting a needle, into his abdomen, and curving into his body. Her spike crushed and severed nerves.

With an agonized howl, Wasting pushed Harper-Jay away. He flipped onto his back, and Berand reached over to tag him, but Wasting rolled away. Berand's eyes widened, as well as Wasting's because he didn't want to admit his plan to Berand. Berand roared, and Wasting pulled himself to his feet using the ropes, before staring down Harper-Jay.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Richard Littles: I think Wasting's admitting he doesn't want Berand in this fight.

Richard Biggs: Trying to protect Berand from his potential defeat to Citrus Snow, like a champ would for a friend. But I don't think you're beating two demons that way.

Harper-Jay tagged in Arson, and Arson went to top turnbuckle, before jumping off. Wasting turned around, and horse bucked him in the skull, knocking him down. He sat on Arson's chest, but Arson pushed him off.

Wasting bit down on Arson's front leg, and Arson swung around, wrapping his back legs around Wasting's throat.

Wasting stood up, and bombed the smaller cat down, before pinning, but Harper-Jay slammed two fists on his back. Two fists, with nice, sharp claws.

Wasting grit his teeth, and stamped his paw on the ground.

Harper-Jay raked his back.

Wasting fell onto his stomach, the newfound scars searing. As the hot pain overtook him, he stared at Berand. Arson climbed the top rope.

Risky maneuver. Wasting stood up in position. Arson dropped down, wrapped legs around his neck, before flipping him over.

Richard Biggs: Arson Poison Destroyer.

Richard Littles: Onto his head.

On Wasting getting crowned, Arson used a burst of energy to really slam his head down and induce unconsciousness, but Berand leaned forward and tagged on Wasting's foot.

Berand jumped into the ring, causing a quaking. Arson ran at him, but Berand clotheslined Arson, flipping him onto his back, before Berand dropped his shoulders onto Arson's chest. Arson pumped up like someone getting cardiac resuscitation.

Harper-Jay charged, only for Berand to grab her in one arm, before slamming her down on his knee.

As Arson stood up, Berand put him in a fireman's carry, put a hand on his backside, and one on his chest, before lancing him out the ring.

Arson landed on all fours, and gave a proud look, before he saw Berand on the top rope.

Richard Littles: Berand's on the top rope.

Richard Biggs: And that means there's no stopping him.

Berand roared as he jumped, and Arson's pupils dilated. His mouth opened in a silent scream, as a shadow fell over him. He saw what Rexcelsis must have seen at KT.

Audience members clung to their seats as a burst of wind rushed at them, like a nuclear missile hit the target.

Berand threw Arson into the ring, before pinning for one, two, three.

Richard Biggs: The new tag team has just got a first win.

Richard Littles: Including Wasting, who now has his first tag team, and first win period.

Berand helped Wasting back to his feet, and Wasting gave a dull grin, while he still tried to register if anything had even happened.

Both went backstage.

***

Tarax sat on the other side of the table from Vicyl. Vicyl stared politely through him, while Tarax shuffled in his seat.

"This is an interview for a job in the Order of Light. Please tell me the qualities you possess," the wolf humanoid asked.

The blue dragon stared at Vicyl, and licked his lips. "I can heat up water, turn steam into water, and basically, I'm a water dragon. I can swim."

Vicyl nodded, and rummaged through a folder. "I'm going to have to ask you why you want to join this group, as opposed to some other one? Such as the Ghosts?"

"Every other group seems kinda mean," Tarax told her. "The only good person I've found is basically Reich, and his friend Harper-Jay is a demon. Actually, practically everyone's a demon or really not nice to others. So you're one of my last options."

"Desperation gets you nowhere," Vicyl said, as she straightened papers on the desk.

Tarax gulped.

"Regardless, I have so many dragons at my disposal anyway. However, I will give you a chance to prove yourself to me, in that, if you can beat someone of my choosing, you will get a job."

Tarax brightened up. "Thank y-"

"Don't disappoint me," she said.

Tarax frowned. "Okay..."

***

Richard Short: The following is a Tag Team Match for the Tag Team Tournament. Already in the ring, the SOS.

ONE and MEW3 acknowledged each other with a glance. Despite ONE putting the group together again, MEW3 still didn't want to give his authority to much power. MEW3 could beat him... if he really wanted to.

Richard Short: And their opponents, the Dominium!

"5

4

3

2

1!

Dark Days are up ahead and in my mind!

Evil is gonna try to catch us blind!"

As their themes mixed, Leroy and Rexcelsis walked out.

Richard Short: This match will be no Disqualification, anything goes.

Richard Littles: ONE and MEW3 requested No Disqualification.

Richard Biggs: A no holds barred match, against two of the biggest threats in this business.

Richard Littles: Leroy's not a threat.

Richard Biggs: They beat Swillow. Give them a break.

Rexcelsis roared as he entered the fray. ONE was first to be sacrificed.

Rexcelsis whipped his tail, but ONE somersaulted underneath, before grabbing his leg. He attempted to scale the colossal dinosaur.

Leroy whipped out a phone, and began texting.

Rexcelsis ignored the claws digging into his rough skin as he stared at Leroy.

Richard Biggs: Is this fool really texting during a match?

Leroy shouted at Richard Biggs, "I'm getting more trolls from 606060XD! He said that I was probably a fat neckbeard in my previous life and died of a heart attack!"

Richard Littles: Did you?

Leroy was about to answer, when Rexcelsis bit down on the phone.

Leroy stared at a cracked screen, as Rexcelsis somersaulted to squash ONE underneath his massive weight.

Leroy groaned and tagged in on Rexcelsis, before going into the ring. MEW3 pulled pancake ONE over to the corner, before tagging himself in.

As MEW3 ran forward, Leroy missile drop kicked him in the chest, the stomp forcing MEW3 backwards towards the ropes, almost flipping over. Rexcelsis charged a Death Beam, as Leroy tagged him in again.

Rexcelsis unleashed Nonparticulate Eradication, giving a non-particular care about the fact he eradicated ring and MEW3 alike.

Richard Biggs: That ends a match.

Richard Short: Your winner, via murder, Rexcelsis!

Richard Littles: Eh, he'll be back next week anyway.

Richard Biggs: Death is cheap.

Leroy pulled out a second phone, and began texting, only for Rexcelsis to whip the phone out of his hands. Leroy's jaw dropped, while Rexcelsis raised an eye ridge and walked on past. Rolling his eyes, Leroy followed.

***

"I'm getting to the top of the organization," Wasting told Richard Short. "Where's Lazarus?"

"In his private lounge," Richard Short said, pointing down the hallway.

Wasting walked past the regular locker room, only to find a door which read, "Executive".

"Executive pain in the ass," Wasting said as he flung the door open, only to find Lazarus with shaving cream on his face, and a towel over his body. Lazarus instinctively pulled a towel up, while Wasting flinched away. Lazarus grabbed at his chest.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Lazarus asked. "Can't you see I'm not decent?"

Wasting growled. "I don't care if you're decent or not, you're going to explain to me why Berand has been booked to fight two matches. How is he supposed to defend his belt when he's already fought a match, explain that!?"

"Maybe he shouldn't have messed with the best," Lazarus said.

"He didn't mess with the best, he messed with you!"

"...I'm giving you a choice," Lazarus said. "Since you barged in here, I'm going to give you two options. Either you can face Rexcelsis, or you can face Berand for the title, up to you."

Wasting growled, and bared his fangs.

***

Richard Short: Standing in the ring, Tarax.

Tarax flicked his tail, awaiting his new opponent. Lights flickered.

Richard Littles: Who could Vicyl possibly have at her disposal?

Richard Biggs: We know she's not that big or important yet.

Richard Littles: And her minions suck.

"UNTIL THE BITTER END!"

As the electronic howl sounded, Swillow marched down to the ring. Tarax's jaw dropped in horror. He backed up, until his tail touched the ring ropes, before Swillow lurked underneath the ropes, her massive frame parting them for her.

Richard Biggs: She's fighting now!?

Richard Littles: Time for your ultimate test.

Richard Biggs: How many start off with a match against the Beast King Swillow anyway as their third match?

Richard Littles: If he wins, that's a title opportunity!

Tarax took a deep breath, and tried to hone his nerves. Swillow howled, before rushing into him, with a shoulder tackle. He fell against the ropes, but sprung forth, and got her into a headlock.

He kept his bicep secured around her neck, and he linked his hands. Swillow put a paw underneath his belly and lifted him up, before throwing him overhead.

His back smacked to the ground, and released his own howl. He flipped over, but Swillow bucked him in the snout. Tears blasted from his eyes, as he grabbed his aching nose.

Swillow jumped onto the top rope, before springing back, but Tarax scooped her up, twirled, and slammed her down.

Richard Biggs: Powerslam reversal.

Richard Littles: That was awesome! He might be the little dragon who could.

Swillow attempted to bite his neck, but Tarax headbutted her. Her head slammed against the mat.

Tarax released her, backing up so he could reach max speed when he attempted to ram into her. However, he saw the referee focusing on someone. Someone red and blue...

Richard Littles: Cyras!?

As Tarax was distracted, Swillow grabbed him by the throat, and picked his entire dragon self up. She spun around fast enough he felt disoriented, before she slammed him onto the ground.

Swillow leaned her head out the ropes, and demanded a microphone. She said, "Leroy, let this be a lesson to you. Those who cross my path, meet a bitter end."

Tarax struggled up, but Swillow snapped her fangs down on his neck. Her mouth glowed black, and he struggled to stay up, but collapsed within seconds.

Richard Short announced a submission.

Richard Wood: And your winner, by submission, Swillow the Slaughterhound.

Richard Biggs: Cyras just interfered.

Richard Littles: And that was all she wrote.

***

Tarax entered the backstage area, before grabbing a now shaved Lazarus by the collar. "I want a match against Cyras next week."

"She has a match already next week," Lazarus said. "She's going up against Wasting and Berand with Ahmond... Actually, I can work something out. I can find a replacement, for Ahmond."

Tarax flashed a thumbs up before walking off.

Lazarus shrugged, before going down the stage.

"I am the fire

Burning the world

I am the lightning

Starting the spark..."

-Vainglorious.

The tall Aetherman with blue hair waved at the crowd, his grin going from ear to ear, despite him not showing any teeth. His eyes were narrowed to beady slits.

"Still think you stand a chance?

I'll end your life, my knife...

I'll end your miracle"

Lazarus put a hand on his ear as he waited for the sound of Berand's music, and when the song of ba ba black sheep came, Lazarus stuck his tongue out.

Richard Biggs: Lazarus, you're here tonight, at commentary?

Lazarus threw on a headset.

Lazarus: Damn straight. Here comes the most inbred member of the locker room, the stupidest member. Anyway, he's going to be doing a lot of work to defend that belt, in fact, I've been inspired by his run with the Darkest Belt, you see, I'm thinking he should defend this belt every week too.

Richard Littles: How many people are lined up for that?

Lazarus: Oh, I dunno, Citrus Snow, Harper-Jay, Cyras, Swillow... Wasting.

Berand stood in the ring.

Citrus Snow jumped up behind him, paws on his back, and he fell backwards as her hind feet pierced his ribs. As Citrus Snow released, Berand flipped over and groaned in pain.

Lazarus: Back alley backstabber! That's our girl!

Richard Biggs: Do you have any reaction to Swillow appearing tonight.

Lazarus: She can handle herself.

Berand stood up, but Citrus Snow spat out a little ball of light, a Flashbang. The orb exploded, creating a loud boom, and flooding the area with light. As audience members and Berand blinked their sight back, Citrus Snow bucked Berand in the stomach.

Berand hunched over, allowing Citrus Snow to drop onto her back, slap his jaw, before giving a good kick. He swung his head back, and Citrus Snow used her arm to sweep a leg. Berand fell on his back, and Citrus somersaulted onto his stomach, paws on his knees.

Richard Biggs: Jackknife cover!

Lazarus: Repeat that?

Richard Littles: That that that.

Lazarus: I sign your paychecks.

Berand pushed Citrus Snow off, before the arena turned black. Writing read, "Whereiswasting."

Then-

"Here I am."

"This starts again...

My life, a revelation haunting

Now baptized, fin'ly seeing truth

Beyond the veil...

Beyond the veil..."

Berand growled, while Citrus Snow's pupils dilated as a dark blue wolf walked down the ramp.

Richard Biggs: If you never read Swillow the Slaughterhound, the story Citrus Snow, Wasting, and Swillow came from, Citrus Snow was Wasting's girlfriend.

Richard Littles: This is gonna be an awkward reunion.

Wasting entered the ring.

Lazarus: He's going to betray Berand, can't say I didn't see that coming... Because, you know, he signed the contract.

Citrus Snow gave glances to either competitor, before Wasting pounced on her. "Now Berand!"

Lazarus: Huh.

Berand tackled Citrus Snow as both put their weight on her.

Richard Short: One, two, three!

The pin made, both released Citrus Snow, before Berand grabbed his belt.

Lazarus: No, no, no, NO! NO! NO!

Richard Littles: Wait, they both got a pin in. So who wins?

Richard Biggs: Guess we're figuring that out tomorrow. Next week...