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Count Bleck vs General Guy vs Chef Torte

Announcer Referee <-Prev--Next->

***

Cackletta: EEEEYAHAHAHA! Welcome to the Beanbean Sports Hall, my obedient subjects! Here you will witness the horrors of battle combined with the raw excitement of, well, more battle. Applaud for your leader!

Bob-omb: I don’t have any hands–

Cackletta: SILENCE!

BZAP! KABOOM!

Bob-omb 2: NOOOOO! HE WAS SIX DAYS FROM RETIREMENT!

Cackletta: So is your fate should you choose to defy me. Now, behold the gladiators fighting for your amusement! In the Green Corner is the master of all dimensions but subject of mine, COUNT BLECK!

Count Bleck: This match will end with my victory… predicted Count Bleck!

Cackletta: In the Yellow Corner is the cunning Shy Guy strategian, GENERAL GUY! Expect a high position in my military should you win!

General Guy: You don’t know the first thing about winning!

Cackletta: And in the Blue Corner, we have the ever-suffering artist, CHEF TORTE!

Chef Torte: Zis is ze most ridiculous matchup I have evair seen.

Cackletta: Good, good! Anger them! Let your hatred flow deep! EEEYAHAHAHAHA! Now, my trusted minion, what is your prediction?

Fawful: Naranja!

Cackletta: … I think he means yellow? Yes, indeed. He is predicting General Guy.

Fawful: I accept! It is the winning!

Cackletta: With that out of the way, I hereby declare this match… BEGUN!

DING DING DING!

General Guy: Guy Squad 18, your mission is to deprive that chef over there of his frying pan.

Shy Guy: Are you joking, sir?

General Guy: I never joke.

Shy Guy: But you’re joking about that, right?

General Guy: JUST BEAT THAT CHEF TO A PULP, MORONS!

Shy Guys: SIR, YES SIR!

Count Bleck: How laughable, laughed Count Bleck!

VWOOOOOOOOOO!

Shy Guys: NOOOOOOO!

General Guy: Your games ended in vain… I’m sorry.

Cackletta: How heartwarming! Count Bleck sucked the Shy Guy attack force into a portal before they could do anything at all!

Count Bleck: Count Bleck is the master of dimensions! You cannot even get a spot on his clothes!

Chef Torte: Ve vill see about zat. PLASMA CANNON!

FOOM!

Cackletta: It appears that Chef Torte is firing a ray away from both opponents. How ridiculous!

Zoop zoop zoop FWAMM!

Count Bleck: AAAAAAAARGH!

Chef Torte: Nevair doubt ze knowledge of physics possessed by any pastry chef.

Cackletta: I see. Chef Torte curved the ray around the portal so it would hit Count Bleck unexpectedly.

General Guy: If you can do it, so can I! TAKE THIS!

ZAAAAAAAP!

Chef Torte: Non!

Fling! BZAAAAP! Catch!

General Guy: Impossible!

Cackletta: General Guy’s complete idiocy is coming clear. Chef Torte threw his pan into the air, attracting the lightning! Now that he’s cornered in by the portal, there’s nothing he can do but await his eventual demise…

General Guy: A true leader never gives up! Goodbye, my tank! YAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Count Bleck: Running on the ropes to avoid the portal? Clever, but what will you do now?

FA-FOOOOOM! BZZZZT!

Cackletta: Count Bleck has slowed down time in the arena. General Guy’s a sitting duck!

Chef Torte: And now! HYPEIR PLASMA CANNON!

FOOOOOOOM!

General Guy: Ack! Phew!

Chef Torte: Sacre bleu! Ze cannon is slow too!

Count Bleck: Count Bleck laughs once more at your pitiful knowledge of time powers. Now face your punishment!

FWOOOOOOOOOSH!

Chef Torte: ROCKET PAN!

CHOOOOM!

Cackletta: Chef Torte’s pan grew boosters and flew out of the way of the portal. General Guy doesn’t seem as lucky, though…

General Guy: No no no no nononononononono–

Count Bleck: BEGONE!

BLAM!

General Guy: GUWAAAAARGH!

Count Bleck: The next portal will not stop. Surrender or perish!

General Guy: Never!

Chef Torte: Thinking you can run back to ze tank like a scared little child? ROCKET PAN!

FWOOOOM! CRUNCH!

Cackletta: Chef Torte threw his pan at the tank, but it’s more reinforced than you’d think. General Guy’s back in his tank and at an advantage now.

General Guy: Ha HA! It’s OVER, monsieur chef! FIRE!

BZAAAAP!

Chef Torte: BLAGIDIAGIDIAGIDIAGGGGG!

Count Bleck: Heh.

FWOOOOSH!

Chef Torte: NON!

Fling!

Cackletta: In an act of desperation, Chef Torte threw a… cupcake?

…FSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH…

Cackletta: Sand is pouring into the arena!

Chef Torte: Behold moi Mini-Bundt! Or ratheir, you cannot, as ze sand is in your eyes!

General Guy: You’re here somewhere! I just… need… to…

Chef Torte: Got you! HYPEIR PLASMA CANNON!

FOOOOOOOOOM!

General Guy: AAAAAAAAAARGH!

Cackletta: General Guy’s been blasted out of the ring!

Chef Torte: And now to end zis.

Count Bleck: Count Bleck was thinking the same thing.

FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH!

Chef Torte: Ha ha ha! Like zat could actually hit!

Count Bleck: Then I will have to try a different tactic… mused Count Bleck!

Fwoop!

Chef Torte: I heard something happen, but vhere…

WHAM!

Roy: Oof!

Chef Torte: AAAAARGH!

Cackletta: Uh… It appears that Count Bleck opened up a hole in the ceiling and dropped Roy onto Chef Torte.

Roy: Where am I? Why is Cackletta sitting in my chair?!

Chef Torte: I… can… ztill… fight…

Count Bleck: No you can’t.

CLANG!

Chef Torte: Ugh.

Cackletta: Okay, match is over, Count Bleck wins by whacking Chef Torte with his own frying pan, delicious irony and whatnot. Fawful! Pack my things!

Fawful: The trip will be of planning!

Roy: You’re not going anywhere! Give me that camera! AAAAARGH!

CRASH! BZZZZZZT!

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED