fandomhigh | The Tournament - Danger Shop

Slade	Arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed what looked like a Colosseum, Deathstroke the Terminator was not amused. This was an idiotic idea. He really needed yo be pickier about his jobs if this managed to get through the screening. He was even less amused by his co-judges.
Tyler	Tyler was not particularly amused himself. "I thought we were supposed to take over the island, not spend the weekend playing Simon Cowell," he announced, folding his arms and glancing to the third judge. "And why is she here?"
Ghanima	"She is here because there is to be at least a show of fairness in these proceedings," Ghanima said coldly. "There are rules of engagement for these types of things, and your Mayor knows perfectly well they must be adhered to."
Deathstroke	"It's a fair tournament," Slade replied, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
Lady Atreides	I do not doubt the fairness of the tournament structure," Ghanima replied blandly. "However, having judges that only represent one side of the contest would present an image of inequality that cannot be allowed if the results are to be accepted as valid. Don't you agree?
Mr. Durden	"Whatever you say," Tyler said, rolling his eyes. "We have to kill some time before we get the island, anyhow. May as well pretend to be fair about it. And it's totally not a rigged tournament. We got rules and everything." He rattled the sheet of paper in his hands, leaned into the microphone. "Okay, 'The first rule of fi-', whoops, that's personal. Let me try something else." He shuffled the pages. "Two people to a match, they go on as long as they have to or until the bell rings, whatever's first." A pause. "This next rule is stupid. And I'd buy a drink for anyone who pulled off breaking that one." He tilted the page to show Slade.
Mr. Wilson	"Cross that one off," He said dryly. "And I don't think most of the people here are all that concerned about the image they give off, Miss Atreides.
Princess Ghanima	"The people? Not exactly. But in case you haven't noticed, islands like ours have their own rules," she answered. "Either we play by the laws of engagement, or we probably all wake up tomorrow as pink mice." "And I do not know about you two, but pink is not my color." Ghanima held out a hand for the rules. "Anything we actually have to keep, gentlemen, or can we just throw the whole stack out?"
Tyler	"I'm always gonna vote for throwing them out," Tyler said flatly, passing the rules to Ghanima. "Everybody signed the waiver, anyhow." There had been no waiver. "I say we let the pirates start, and then add rules if we absolutely need them. I'm ready to see some fights."
Deathstroke	"As much as I don't want to say it--" Slade took a deep breath. "I agree with him."
Ghanima	So the two judges provided by the other island did not get along. Fascinating. Ghanima's eyes flickered over the rules briefly and her mouth curled in distaste. "Well these are less-than-useless," she sighed. "Worse, they're boring." Attempts to sanitize combat always annoyed her. "First match! Mr. Barbossa. Captain Jack Sparrow. Step forward, please. We're all waiting."

[[~~Wait for the~~ OCD is up and Deathstroke will STILL kill you where you stand!]]

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"I be a captain, too," Barbossa grumbled as he dropped his bathtub into the water.

Even with the flotation devices around it--those blow-up wenches had come in handy--it wobbled a bit precariously.

Maybe he shouldn't have included the mini cannon.

"Paperwork error, I imagine," Jack said smoothly as he put the finishing touches on the painted name of his fine ceramic vessel.

"I christen ye the 'Better Than Hector's Bathtub,'" he said, cracking a bottle of Barbossa's rum against the side of it.

"Oh, that be terribly mature," Barbossa said sourly as he adjusted his hat and climbed into his bathtub.

"What's yours called, then?" Jack asked, pushing his bathtub into the sea so conveniently provided for them and picking up his paddle.

He'd painted "The Apple" onto the other side.

"It's called 'Bite Me, Jack,'" he retorted. "Let's be gettin' on wit' this."

"One minute!" Jack said, holding up a finger and reaching back onto the dock for a just-a-little-larger-than-Barbossa's cannon.

"First one around that buoy and back to the dock wins," he said, pointing to a dark shape in the distance. "One, two, three, go!" he called out, already paddling on the "two."

Pirate.

Pirate in a tippy bathtub with a freaking cannon in it. Physics was not going to be his friend.

"Ye be a no-good swindler, Jack Sparrow!" Barbossa roared, paddling furiously to catch up.

When he got closer, he leaned out with his paddle--the bathtub tipped precariously--and tried to smack Jack with it.

"Pi--" Jack began before almost getting clocked with a paddle. "Stop that," he said, splashing water towards Barbossa.

It should be noted they hadn't moved more than twenty feet from the dock.

Barbossa's bathtub didn't really need more water in it.

With a scowl, he put one oar down and trying to bail with his free hand.

The Bite Me, Jack was sinking lower into the sea and listing to starboard.

Jack wasn't exactly leaping forward in a blazing display of speed, but he had set up a nice rhythm with his paddles.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me," he sang as he moved along towards the halfway point.

Barbossa's cursing had a nice rhythm to it as well as he stayed firmly where he was.

He had two choices: fire the cannon at Jack's bathtub from this distance and possibly miss, or wait until Jack came back and beat him down with the paddle and possibly sink in the meantime.

Jack launched into a stirring rendition of "Rubber Duckie" as he paddled around the buoy.

"Where'd Barbossa go?" he wondered.

Barbossa was getting harder to see as the Bite Me, Jack began sinking lower and lower into the water. "Come back here, matey," he muttered as he bailed more frantically.

Jack came paddling closer, now singing about his lov-e-ly bunch of coconuts.

With an aggravated roar that sounded suspiciously like "FOR ME RUM!" Barbossa put all of his weight behind a blow to Jack's head with his oar.

Jack ducked out of the way, eyebrows shooting up.

And Barbossa--and the Bite Me, Jack--overbalanced.

The bathtub sank to the bottom of the sea.

Barbossa did a killer impression of a drowned rat, treading water as his hat floated away.

Re: Let the Battle Begin!

capt-maxfactor.livejournal.com - 2008-09-19 15:35 (UTC) - Expand

"YAY BOSS!" read the sign the chipmunks were holding up. Unlike other rodents, they had learned to spell.

"Captain Sparrow wins this round."

Ghanima was going to do her best not to start beating her head against the wall. Really, this was not the way to start the tournament.

"Round to Captain Sparrow."

"It's unanimous," Tyler agreed. "Sparrow's round."

The Tournament - Danger Shop - Friday

Barbossa vs. Jack Sparrow

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Judges' Decision

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