The commotion of the lucha promotion could be heard all around Salt Town, agitating citizens who had just settled in for the night.
In Carne’s clinic, a dank, little office in a back alley lit only by a single, dim light bulb, an exasperated Carne pulled a bullet out of a gangster’s chest, grumbling about the noise. “Ugh… what is it now…?” Carne sutured up the gangster’s chest and let him rest for a bit as he stepped out of the clinic to see what the fuss was about.
The town square, already teetering on the edge of collapse, had been torn apart by the unfolding wrestling ring. The once cracked and dusty streets were now littered with rubble, and the angry cries of Salt Town’s citizens echoed off the hollow, graffitied buildings. Desperation and frustration hung thick in the air, mixing with the rising dust and the faint smell of smoke.
“LUCHA! LUCHA! LUCHA!” the wrestling ring audience chanted. All the while, the trio of Shaska, Schwarz, and Lulupo made their way toward the ring, while Andy and Roxanne looked for a late night grocery in Sugar City. With everyone in town distracted by the impromptu wrestling show, Shaska left the Robinson unguarded in the dingy, dark night of Salt Town.
“Dammit… just what we need right now… what even are these guys…? Another gang?” Carne moaned, watching the events unfold from afar.
Microphone feedback ripped through the air as the speakers stationed on the light posts came to life. Citizens and audience members reflexively covered their ears.
“Gooood evening, ladies and gents, we are the Squared Circle Gang coming to you LIVE from Salt Town in the great city of Gokashi!” announced one of the commentators stationed at the foot of the ring. “I’m Matthias, he’s Hodgkin, and we’re here to bring you all the action as it unfolds!”
“That’s right, Matthias, in just two hours, at the stroke of midnight, we begin our Heavenly Showdown, where a city’s strongest fighters take on our stable to win the coveted, the glorious, Heavenly Showdown CHAMPIONSHIP BELT!”
The audience roared with applause. The Salt Town citizens booed even louder. “The rules are simple, folks!” Matthias (a huge man in a tiny jacket that ripped whenever he moved) boomed, his voice crackling with excitement. “Step into the ring, and the last one standing—who isn’t pinned or cries for mercy—walks away with the Heavenly Showdown Championship Belt!”
Hodgkin added with a grin, “And remember, folks, anything goes! Potentia, weapons, fists—we’ve seen it all and can’t wait for the bloodbath! And ANYONE’S invited, including the police and the feds!”
“Pretty gutsy of them to invite the feds, too,” Carne muttered.
“But if we win…” added Hodgkin, a square-jawed, bald man covered in tattoos. “The host city gets ransacked, their goods stolen, and their women—“
“This is your first and only warning,” interrupted a voice on another loudspeaker. Standing near the ring was a fed officer with a microphone. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and tie and fedora with a badge on his chest reading “FIIG”. He was flanked by two other officers. “This is special agent in charge Abelard of the Gokashi branch of the Federal Institute of Intelligence Gathering. We are giving you the option to come peacefully.”
The audience booed as fed agents surrounded the ring, guns drawn.
“We want violence!” the audience chanted, followed by rhythmic clapping. “We want violence!”
“Oh, you want violence?” the fed officer muttered. “I’ll give you violence…”
“Uh… Abelard, sir? Surely, we shouldn’t just massacre a group of what seem to be harmless audience members?” asked the rather scrawny looking officer to Abelard’s left. He was rather nondescript, standing a bit over six feet tall with a plain face and dark hair, and his suit jacket was draped over his shoulders, revealing a plain white dress shirt and black tie.
“They’re a gang, nonetheless. They’re still clearly calling for violence,” said the officer at Abelard’s right. He was very well built, wearing a metal armor breastplate and pauldrons over his suit, and had a sword at his hip and a shield on his back. He stood several inches taller than the scrawny officer, with tan skin and red hair, strikingly handsome save the scar on his face, running down his cheek under his right eye. “Besides, these guys have been tearing their way up the countryside, ransacking every town they come across. Better stop them now they’re in the city.”
Franco paused for a moment, then said “and don’t calm him Shirley.”
“Thank you, Agent Franco,” Abelard said, his voice cold and commanding. He turned to Johnson with a frown. “You’d do well to remember, Agent Johnson—there’s no room for hesitation when dealing with gangs. You should study more on the nature of justice.”
Franco grunted in agreement, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. “Better we crush them here than let them take the city apart, bit by bit.”
Half the audience was still calling for violence, while the other half was booing the feds and throwing their popcorn at them. All the while, Salt Town citizens outside the perimeter were cheering the feds on.
Carne scowled, watching the chaos unfold. “Funny how they cheer for the feds now, after all the booze they’ve smuggled in with my brothers’ help. Hypocrites…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It seems Boss Fernandez’s true believers are about to be under fire!” Hodgkin exclaimed.
“That’s right, how’s the boss gonna react to this one?” asked Matthias.
“Now, hhhhhhhhhold everything!” exclaimed a voice with a thick Hispanian accent over the Squared Circle loudspeaker.
At the base of the stands was what appeared to be an office of some sort. A sharply dressed man with dark skin, slicked back hair, and a slimy smirk on his face stepped out of the office holding a microphone. The audience cheered even louder; the Salt Town citizenry matched with even louder boos.
“Fernandez makes his appearance!” exclaimed Matthias.
“Hhhhhhold everything! You come to my ring, and threaten to kill my true believers…”
He paused, the ensuing silence such that one could hear a pin drop.
“WITHOUT AT LEAST GIVING THEM A GOOD SHOW FIRST?!” he shouted with a flourish.
Gangsters in various states of wrestling garb, some masked, some not, began pouring into the ring from the doors at the top of the stands. The audience cheered even louder, chanting “this is awesome!” followed with more rhythmic clapping.
The wrestling mobsters moved at blinding speeds thanks to their Aether powers. Some flipped off the stands, some just ran, but they were able to avoid the gunfire of the feds. The audience went crazy as feds were subsequently piledrived, body splashed, and clotheslined.
The Squared Circle Gang continued to chant “this is awesome!”, followed by rhythmic clapping.
“That was pretty cool, not gonna lie…” Carne muttered.
“Special agent Abelard, was it?!” Fernandez called. “You come to my arena? You play by my rules!!”
The audience cheered even louder.
“Make sure we have a sniper at the ready,” Abelard whispered to a grunt, who saluted and ran off.
He turned back to Fernandez and the ring, annoyed. “What are your rules, Fernandez?”
“I believe the announcers made it clear! Heavenly! SHOOOOWDOOOOOOWN!!”
The audience cheered louder still. The Salt Town citizens’ boos and jeers grew louder to compensate.
“You send your best fighters to my arena! If they win, you get to claim my hundred thousand losa bounty! But if we win, your city gets plundered and razed!”
“Deal!” Shaska called out at the top of her lungs. The audience quieted down, and turned to face the trio of newcomers standing next to the announcer’s table: Shaska, Schwarz, and Lulupo. “I want a word with you, boss man! You put a gash in my airship!”
“A bewitching beauty arrives! It’s famed bounty hunter and business tycoon, Shaska the Greedy!” Hodgkin exclaimed.
Shaska drew boos from the audience, so she quickly grabbed Matthias’ microphone. “Oh, you’re booing me now? I don’t know if it’s a business thing, or a merwoman thing… Well, guess what? BOO YOU, TOO!”
The audience booed even louder.
“GANGSTERS SUCK!”
“Shaska, I think you may be getting a little too much into this,” Lulupo tried to say as Shaska continued to argue with the crowd.
“I say let her be a heel,” Schwarz replied.
“Ah, but Miss Shaska,” Fernandez replied. “You’re a wanted woman now. You can’t collect my bounty. And now you’re exposing your cohorts before the feds!”
“It’s cute you think I haven’t figured out a way around that!” Shaska bluffed. Given that news of her ouster from Smoky Mart had only come this morning, it hadn’t quite sunk in for Shaska that she couldn’t bring bounties in anymore.
“Yo!” called out another voice.
A tall, swarthy, morbidly obese man in a barely-fitting dress shirt with an array of knives and gang tattoos approached the announcer’s stand and grabbed the other microphone.
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“Yo! I know you can hear this, Prosciutto! It’s Maiale! We just got the perfect opportunity to finish this for good! You and me! Let’s figure out who the strongest really is!”
“Uh oh…” Carne peeped.
Abelard shook his head, then turned to his subordinates. “Johnson, Franco, I want you two to enter this silly contest with me.”
“Roger,” they replied in unison.
“My men and I are entering, too!” Abelard called out over his loudspeaker. Fernandez just smiled.
“Could you… hand me my microphone back…?” Matthias sheepishly asked Shaska. She obliged.
“And there you have it, folks! Eight more fighters offer themselves up for the Heavenly Showdown!” Matthias told the cheering audience.
“We want violence! We want violence!” the audience rhythmically chanted.
“Two hours! You have two hours to steel yourselves, fighters!” Fernandez called out. “Use it wisely, because we begin at the stroke of midnight!”
The audience cheered a little bit longer and then dispersed into the populace, who were not at all pleased by a large band of mobsters roaming around like it was nothing. The Squared Circle Gang, outside their wrestlers, weren’t particularly aggressive (until they won) or powerful, but the disdain of Salt Town’s citizens was palpable.
Andy and Roxanne approached Shaska with a handful of brown paper shopping bags.
“Hey, Miss Shaska? I think we have a creative way to use our supplies to set up a concession stand,” said Andy.
“When do we get paid?” Roxanne added. “The only one of us working for free is Schwarz.”
“You want payment?” Shaska asked, blowing smoke. She pointed at Fernandez. “That guy’s your payment. Him and his merry men.”
Shaska turned to Schwarz and Lulupo. “You two, find out all you can about the enemy.” She then turned to Andy and Roxanne. “You two, set up your concession stand. I’ll make whatever you cook sell like hotcakes. No booze, though. Audience isn’t on our side as it is and we got feds here.”
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Schwarz and Lulupo asked around and listened for information, but everyone was tightlipped around them. Meanwhile, Shaska and the couple set up a makeshift concession stand near the announcer’s desk. As the Robinson was still a functional Smoky Mart, they had the supplies they needed to quickly build the stand and sell their snacks for ten losas each.
Surprisingly, despite Shaska drawing such negative heat from the audience, they started lining up at Andy and Roxanne’s concession stand. The ground was muddy, having just rained the previous day, but the people beat a path through the puddles to get the delicious snacks.
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Meanwhile, in a mansion in Sugar City, a short, chubby balding man lay sleeping in an ornate bed. There was soon a pounding on his bedroom door.
“Boss Alphonse! Boss Alphonse! Dere’s trouble in Salt Town!” cried the grunt.
The chubby balding man pulled his sleep mask off and answered the door.
“Youse got a good reason to be pounding on my door in da middle of da night, you goon? Dere bettah be a good reason you’re bangin’ on my door about freakin’ Salt Town.”
“Boss! The Squared Circle Gang’s fixin’ to take out da Sharks and da Bulls! We can’t have someone else encroachin’ on our terri—“
Alphonse raised his hand to the grunt’s mouth and shut it seemingly permanently by covering it in ice.
“Listen, ya stooge, you do not wake me up in da middle of da night unless dey’re comin’ right for Sugar City, capisce?” Alphonse growled as the grunt tried desperately to remove the ice from his face. “I don’ care if it’s da Squared Circles or da feds or even Serenicus Himself! You do not interrupt my sleep!!”
The henchman sheepishly nodded as Alphonse slammed the door in his face.
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Time drew near, and the fighters secretly drew numbers for what order they would enter the ring, numbered one through fifteen. The Squared Circle Gang’s band played to entertain the audience, which now included Salt Town citizens, fed grunts, and Carne. Among them was an extremely tall man with disproportionately long legs; he was dressed in an ornate outfit, with long, red and white silk pants, and a red Nehru jacket with gold trim. He also wore a red turban on his head and an ornate spear on his back.
“This should be entertaining…” he muttered.
“And we’re back, ladies and gents! You know what time it is now!” Matthias exclaimed over the loudspeaker.
“HEAVENLY! SHOWDOWN!” cried the audience, followed by an eruption of cheering.
"Quick reminder of the rules: two fighters enter, then every ninety seconds another fighter enters. Only way a fighter leaves is if they're pinned or submit in the ring!"
"Or if they die!" Hodgkin added, "because this match is anything goes! Referee's only there to count the pins."
“And now, take it away, Santana!” Matthias shouted, passing it off to a beautiful woman in a long, red dress in the ring with a microphone.
"The following lucha is HEAVENLY SHOWDOWN and is for the Squared Circle championship! PLUS! The dignity and livelihood of the city of Gokashi!
"Introducing our first combatant, the illustrious DIIIIIIIAMOND DRAAAAAAAGON!" she called out as a buff man in a sparkling dragon mask came down the stairs to the cheers of the audience.
"Aaaaaaaaand coming in second, FIIG SPECIAL AGENT PIETRO ABELARD!" she called out as Abelard descended the opposite stairs to the boos of the audience.
The two men entered the ring. The Diamond Dragon offered a fist bump, but Abelard declined.
At ringside, Fernandez began speaking into his microphone. “Remember! All who lose tonight are just sacrifices in the inevitable march of progress toward UTOPIA! There shall be no more suffering! NO NEED FOR WANT OR HUNGER!”
The Squared Circle audience cheered; everyone else just looked confused.
"Now! RING THE BELL!"
A fed sniper shot at Fernandez, but missed, causing him to duck back into his office.
The match was on. Diamond Dragon went for a kick at Abelard's chest, but he dodged, leading Diamond Dragon to go for a grapple. Abelard appeared to not move, but Diamond Dragon screamed and pulled away, hands dripping with blood.
"Hey, ref, anything goes, right?" he asked, to which the referee nodded. "Perfect."
Abelard's fists turned into drills. "My potentia is called Terebro Officialis. Any part of my body can become a drill."
He started punching at Diamond Dragon, who quickly dodged and jumped on the ropes.
Diamond Dragon jumped off the ropes to attempt a stomp on Abelard's head, but he simply turned his head into a drill, sending Diamond Dragon spinning into the opposite corner.
"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" the crowd counted as it came time for the next fighter.
"Coming in now, is SHASSSSSSSSSSKAAAAAAAAA!" called Santana, causing a chorus of boos to erupt from the crowd. Shaska was sort of relishing in their hatred now as she stood at the top of the stairs.
She jumped all the way from the top of the stairs, and landed in the ring with a mighty crash. The other two combatants stood in awe of her, then promptly found themselves on their rears after she swept at both of their feet with a series of low kicks.
She hopped on top of Diamond Dragon and quickly pinned him for the full three count, causing the Squared Circle audience to loudly boo while Abelard got back to his feet.
“Diamond Dragon has been eliminated,” said Santana.
Shaska turned to Abelard and lunged at him, wrapping her left arm around his neck. Abelard responded in kind by sprouting a drill from his neck and boring into her forearm.
She reflexively pulled her arm away and hopped backward.
“What did you just do?!”
"How's this for an explanation?" Abelard asked as he charged with his fist drills out.
"That’s the cat’s meow!" Andy remarked from the stands with stars in his eyes.
As Abelard charged at her, Shaska shifted her stance. She pulled her right hand back, then as soon as he got close enough, thrust her fist forward. The force of Shaska’s fist caused a ripple in the Aether and the air’s water vapor, powerful enough to send Abelard flying out of the ring.
“He’s out, right?” she asked the referee.
The ref shook his head, responding “pin or submission in the ring only.”
"In the ring, eh?" Shaska thought aloud. She stepped out of the ring to the boos of the audience and made herself right at home at the announcer's table off to the side.
"Room for one more?" she asked, leaning over and resting her arms on the announcers' shoulders, much to the announcers’ displeasure.
"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"
"Introducing… the warrior of one thousand deaths… REEEEEEAAAAAPPEEEEERRRRR!"
A wrestler in a black and gray mask and markings on his left pectoral made his way to the ring. He moved slowly, but when he got to the center, he put his hand on the gang emblem in the middle, as if drawing power from it.
"C'mon, ya rube! No one believes you're ACTUALLY some kinda 'thousand death warrior'!" Shaska mocked from the sidelines. "Grow the hell up!"
Reaper turned his focus toward Shaska and started lumbering toward her. She simply tapped two fingers to her forehead and began drawing water vapor from the air.
Unfortunately for her, she still had to contend with Abelard, who made his way around the ring and charged at her again with drill fists out. She narrowly avoided a drill punch, and used what little power she had in her water vapor to blow him away again.
"Crap. I can't grab that guy or else he'll drill a hole right through me, and I bet THIS guy will turn me into a pretzel if I get near him."
"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"
"Please please PLEASE be friendly," Shaska thought as they counted.
"Coming to the ring… Special agent SANTIAGO FRAAAAANCOOOOOO!"
The gangsters all booed, but the citizens and feds gave the buff redhead massive applause as he saluted at the top of the stairs. Franco equipped his sword and shield, then seemingly disappeared in the blink of an eye.
"Aw, crap,” Shaska muttered.
He appeared in the ring almost immediately and delivered a mighty kick to Reaper’s gut followed by a shield bash. This made Reaper even more mad. He grabbed Franco by the shoulders and started headbutting him repeatedly, eventually making the redhead buckle from the pain.
Shaska slinked around the ring, trying to find a place to hide from Agent Abelard, but finding a hiding spot is difficult when you're eight feet tall. Especially when there's a constant trail of smoke coming from your exact location.
As Franco tried to steady himself, Reaper sent him running into the ropes, setting Reaper up for a clothesline as Franco ran back.
"Begone, foul villain!" Franco called out as he planted his foot down and went for another kick into shield bash combo attack, this one seriously doing damage to Reaper.
Now Reaper was trying to steady himself as Franco brought him to the ground and pinned him for a full three count.
"Reaper has been eliminated."
"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"
Shaska crossed her fingers as she weaved past Abelard's drill punches.
"There's still nine more fighters left to enter the ring," said Matthias.
"Oh, come on,” Shaska whined.
"Introducing… Special agent REUEEEEL JOOOOOHNSOOOOOON!"
"Oh, come on!" an exasperated Shaska exclaimed.
Once again, the gangsters booed, but the applause from the feds was more half-hearted this time as the scrawny man saluted.
Abelard continued his relentless pursuit of Shaska, only now he was assisted by Franco and Johnson. Johnson activated his potentia, elongating his neck and legs and causing his arms and torso to become covered in feathers, making him resemble a cross between a man and an ostrich. He kicked his shoes off, revealing ostrich talons, and he glided down from the top of the stairs to deliver a flying kick to Shaska's face, dragging her along the ground as he finished his descent before slamming her headfirst into the stands.
"Franco! She's all yours!" he called out as he picked up the stunned Shaska in his wing-arms and pushed her into the ring.
Franco made a move on her, but she came to and sat up. "Who said I was done?"
She swiped at Franco's ankles, tripping him. Unfortunately, she tripped him onto her. And while she managed to withstand Franco's weight, she wasn't able to hold on when Johnson jumped on Franco's shoulders, causing them both to pin Shaska's shoulder blades to the mat.
"One! Two! Three!" the ref counted.
"Shaska has been eliminated," said Santana.