Grease and Big Cheese stared at the unmoving mountain of flesh that was Gravelaxe.
The crowd erupted.
"BLON-DIE! BLON-DIE! BLON-DIE!"
The scrappers didn't care about loyalty, they cared about blood. And Launch had just delivered the goods.
Bulma stared at the lifeless body of Gravelaxe, then at Launch, who was wiping sweat from her forehead.
"Do you think… we might actually pull this off?"
Oolong sat next to her, looking at the cheering crowd with a dark realization in his eyes.
"They love it. Don't you see, Bulma? A minute ago they were screaming for her head, and now they're cheering her on. We're not people to them… we're just entertainment. They don't want this to end quickly. They want it slow and brutal."
Up on the platform, Dimcha leaned over the railing, grinning like a proud father at a talent show.
"That is what I call initiative!" Dimcha declared, pointing down at Launch.
"And now, the dynamic of our little soirée has shifted! The lady's upgraded her arsenal! She's got herself an axe!"
He turned towards the two remaining champions, who looked significantly less confident than they had moments ago.
"So the question now is... how do our remaining champions handle this twist? Do they play it safe? Do they take turns? Or..."
Dimcha paused for dramatic effect.
"Do Big Cheese and Grease decide to stop playin' games and rush the little lady together? Two against one! Double the trouble! What's it gonna be, boys?"
Grease and Big Cheese exchanged a glance.
But the crowd was watching, and more importantly, Dimcha was watching.
Retreat wasn't an option.
They stepped forward.
"You... you just got lucky, you little witch!"
Grease stammered. He slid a few feet closer, but he kept his distance.
"He was slow anyway! You won't find us so easy to hit!"
Big Cheese took a stance. Sweat poured down his face, visible even under the rim of his cheddar wedge helmet.
"Yeah! Nobody takes down a scrapper champion and walks away! We're gonna... we're gonna grate you like parmesan!"
They were circling her like hyenas, both waiting for the other one to make the first move.
Launch just rested the head of the axe in the sand, leaning on the handle like it was a cane.
She blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and smirked, her eyes cold and amused.
"You guys are doing a lot of talking. So who's coming, the oil slick or the dairy product? Or are you both eager to meet the big guy down there?"
"Get her!" Grease screamed in aggression.
The two champions lunged at the same time.
Launch was ready.
She abandoned the axe, letting it fall to the sand as she pivoted on her heel.
She ducked under Big Cheese's clumsy punches and snapped a vicious side kick into his stomach.
"Oof!"
Big Cheese grunted, stumbling back a few steps, clutching his gut.
But as Launch retracted her leg, a shadow slid across the sand behind her.
Grease lived up to his name.
He moved silently and fast, sliding over the ground.
Before Launch could turn, oily arms wrapped tightly around her waist and pinned her arms to her sides.
"I got her! I got the little witch!"
Grease yelled with triumph in his voice.
He squeezed with surprising strength, locking his hands together.
Launch thrashed, trying to break free, but his body was coated in a thick, viscous sludge.
Every time she tried to get a grip to throw him, her hands just slid off his skin.
"Let go of me!" Launch yelled while stomping on his foot.
"Not a chance!" Grease laughed, tightening his bear hug, lifting her slightly off the ground so she lost her leverage.
"Big Cheese! Now! Smash her while I hold her!"
Big Cheese recovered from the kick and straightened up.
He walked slowly toward the immobilized Launch.
"Oh, yeah, now you're gonna see what happens when you mess with the scrappers. Hold her steady, Grease."
Launch stopped fighting the grip. Instead, she used her enemy's greatest strength against him.
She exhales sharply and went completely limp, dropping her weight toward the sand.
Because Grease was coated in layers of lube, there was no friction to hold her.
Like a wet bar of soap slipping from a hand, Launch slid straight down through his arms, ducking at the exact second Big Cheese unleashed a punch aimed at her face.
WHAM.
Big Cheese's fist sailed over Launch's head and slammed squarely into Grease's chest.
"Guh!"
The oily champion was lifted off his feet, flying backward to land in the sand, gasping for breath.
Big Cheese froze, his fist still extended, staring in horror at his fallen teammate.
"Oh no! Grease! Buddy! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"
He never finished the apology.
Launch wasted zero time.
As Big Cheese stood there distracted, she sprang up behind the giant.
She jumped onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, and snaked her arm violently around his neck.
She locked her other hand behind his head and squeezed.
A perfect rear naked choke.
Big Cheese's eyes went wide as his hands clawed uselessly at the arm crushing his windpipe.
Big Cheese gurgled, he thrashed for a few more seconds, before his arms went limp. His massive weight sagged, and Launch released the hold, letting him slump face first into the dirt, unconscious.
She stood up, brushing the sand off her clothes, breathing hard but unharmed.
Grease scrambled to his feet a few yards away, clutching his bruised chest.
He looked at Big Cheese, and finally at the blonde demon who had dismantled them all. The fight drained out of him instantly.
"Wait! Wait!" Grease shrieked, backing away until his back hit the wall of the arena. He held his slippery hands up in surrender.
"Don't kill me! I yield! I yield!"
Launch ignored him.
She walked over to where she left the axe. She turned toward Grease, hefting the weapon onto her shoulder, and began to march toward him.
The crowd went feral.
"KILL HIM! FINISH HIM! CHOP HIM UP!"
Grease slid down the wall, cowering in a puddle of his own oil.
"No! Please! Somebody help!"
Suddenly, a streak shot out from the VIP box.
A figure vaulted the railing, dropping feet first to land directly between Launch and Grease.
When the dust settled, Diesella stood there.
She straightened up slowly.
"Ooh! Now this is a plot twist!" Dimcha shouted into the microphone, leaning so far over the railing he almost fell out.
"Ladies and gentlemen! It seems the scrappers have decided to stop playing with their food! Entering the fray is none other than the Iron Maiden herself... DIESELLA!"
Grease looked up at her, tears of relief streaming down his face.
"Diesella!" He sobbed, reaching out to grab her ankle.
"Thank god! You came to save me! This crazy bitch—"
Diesella looked down at him.
Her expression was one of utter disgust.
"Save you? Don't get it twisted, greaseball. You embarrassed us. You serve no purpose here anymore."
She raised her bionic arm.
The metal panels on her forearm shifted and slid back, revealing a glowing nozzle.
"Wait—"
A torrent of liquid fire erupted from her arm.
It engulfed Grease instantly.
"HHH-AAAAAAARGH! KKKH... AAAAAAAHHHH!!"
His screams were horrific, piercing through the roar of the crowd, but they were cut short as the intensity of the flames turned him into a living torch.
Within seconds, he collapsed, nothing more than a charred, smoking heap on the sand.
The crowd screamed in ecstasy.
Launch stopped dead in her tracks.
She tightened her grip on the axe.
She took a step back.
This one is a killer.
Diesella lowered her smoking arm as the metal cooled. She turned to Launch with a cruel smirk.
"Now, let's see if you can handle someone who actually knows how to fight."