Round Three - Loser's League - Royal Rumble

The Atom (tm) is pleased to present the thrillah in manillah, the rumble in the jungle, the scrapple for the apple, the Losers League Brawl!

We're waiting for some competitors to arrive, but we have our first one ready and waiting, so let's get this started!

Our first competitor, weighing in with six arms and one Nerf gun,

The Shaolin Monk(ey)

The Yeti has realized that violence is not the answer. The answer, it would seem, is a super form of violence made popular by the Shaolin monks. While we were asleep, he returned home to study the ancient arts of his ancestors, homing his craft to a deadly level. Now, instead of guns ablazing, the Yeti has come to a much gentler approach of ancient weapons that are equally effective of killing people. He wanted to keep the chainsaws, though. Said it reminded him of days gone by. As for the Nerf gun, he's yet to use it in battle and to be frank, it scares some of us as to what it might really be.


All creation comes from destruction. Upon his victory over Tsar Bumble, Centipope jettisoned the battered corpse he was inhabiting and took the pupal stage of the being that would become Elohim.


Even after being ripped in two, Centipope managed to crawl into the headless carcass of the newly emerged arthropoid queen nymph, and survive there. Nourished by the parasite that latched onto it in deep space and gave it its feverish religious convictions, it has grown and merged with the otherwordly corpse to create Elohim: a thirty foot high beast somewhere between a moth, an octopus and a centipede, among other things. Intoxicated by the arthropoid's surging pheromones and exotic alien glands, the parasite and its centipede host are deep in the grip of a divine euphoria. It thinks it is god so much that it is conjuring flickers of blue flame and giving the audience headaches, and is considerably larger than all of its opponents.

The Penguin

You can't kill The Penguin.
The Penguin will live on.

For all of you who thought he'd return, you're right! Apparently we didn't kill him hard enough, so he decided to come join us in the free for all. He's just chillin there, with his sunglasses. He's just a bad ass and wants to shoot some stuff in the face.

And in this corner... WRASSLOPOD!

The music industry can be tougher than the world of competitive modified beasties fighting one another. Wrasslopod nearly had a Top 20 hit, but the fine print in his contract had some band no one had ever heard of before that one song but that wasn't a mutated lobster claim ownership and skyrocket to the top of the charts. We found him in Elizabeth, New Jersey, drunk and high on cocaine. We've cleaned him up and made him realize that there's really only ever been one thing that he's good at: wrestling. And now he's back with a vengeance, ready to take no prisoners With a soundtrack by Bruce Springsteen, Ezekiel Zoidinski is the Wrasslopod


Have you ever seen what a spaceship jammed with cold hard cash looks like? I mean, something where floor to celling, it's nothing more that a load of cash. Unmarked, non sequential bills of multiple denominations and multiple currencies that's so deep that you can physically swim in it. Remember Ducktails? How Scrooge MacDuck had his moneybin that he used to go diving in?

Yeah, well that, but with cash.

The Chinese and Greek teams came to us, after being told by the Czech team about Wolfbike (who is once again MIA... lazy Czech designers), and gave us a spaceship that had one thing in its cargo bay: Raptorcycle. It's built from the remains of Star Truck and Battleopteryx, and beneath the sleek exterior is an arsenal of weaponry, including two of Star Truck's plasma/laser snake heads, a compliment of missiles that fold out, miniguns, a swivel canon, and Battleopteryx's head grafted into the front portion of the bike itself which is tucked away until battle mode is activated.

Seriously. There was a metric fuckton of cash in this spaceship. Turning this guy down would have just been selfish on our part.


He doesn't need any of your goddam help. While these other nambys have been upgrading their weaponry to make sure they can kill one another fancy style, he run on one simple premise: He can do this job efficiently with less weapons and less pomp. One gun. As much amno as he needs. And a big fucking knife.

You may have notice he's refused any serious medical attention from the last fight. Who needs it? Some beer cans and duct tape patch you right up. And if that Japanese creature comes back looking for him, oh, this time he's in for a fight. He's not blinded by video games anymore. Bring it on.


Ladies, gentlemen and assorted alien genders! I, The Atom™'s resident Armsmaster, am pleased to welcome you all to the end of the Loser's League: the no-holds barred, last man standing ROOOOOOYAAAAAAL RUMMMMMMMMMMMBLE.

To the roar of the crowd, our competitors stroll onto the arena floor. Before the fight begins Once Were Walrus would like to show his New Zealander fighting spirit with a traditional haka.

The middle of the arena floor cracks open and with a blare of trumpets and rainbows, Elohim rises into position. All the other beasts seem to realize that this behemoth is the one to beat, and with throaty yells, barks and honkings they charge.

Raptorcycle screams ahead, wheels tearing up the arena floor. Fully unfolded and bristling with weaponry (beautiful weaponry) it closes the distance with Elohim in seconds...

Rearing onto its hind wheel, Raptorcycle flies through the air, and Elohim spreads its scything claws wide in welcome. For an instant Raptorcycle is silhouetted against the arena lights, and in the next it slams home and a massive fireball consumes the center of the arena. Debris spews out of the inferno, including...

Raptorcycle is down! Raptorcycle is down! What a valiant sacrifice - but wait. As the smoke clears Elohim appears dazed but largely unharmed!

Raptorcycle's death at least has given the other beasts a chance to close safely with Elohim, and they take to tearing apart from the ground up with a gusto.




Wait, one of our competitors seems to be missing - weren't there six on the betting card?

Oh, there he is!

Good lord, those tentacles seem to be regenerating just as fast as the brute squad can take them apart! And Elohim is recovering from that blast -

Just so! A mighty sweep clears away the gnats, and Elohim draws itself up into all its grandeur. Tentacles writhe towards the other fighters, and Once Were Walrus and Wrasslopod are ensnared! Things are not looking good for the two fighters as they are drawn upwards towards Elohim's scythes.

Shaolin Monkey knows he can't take on Elohim without assistance, so with chainsaws screaming and glave raised he rushes into the breach. Those tentacles should part like butter before his intense concentration of spiritual energy, and the others will be freed...

But Elohim has other ideas. Its wings open wide and the myriad of eyes upon them crack open, pouring forth a torrent of blinding light.

Shaolin Monkey is held transfixed in the beam as he is lifted in rapture. Curls of smoke begin to lift off his fur as the glorious barrage continues.

And finally, the prismatic halo around Elohim's head flares brighter than ever. Shaolin Monkey is thrown backwards and skids across the arena floor, charred and broken.

Elohim turns its attention back to its struggling captives...

Once Were Walrus is making a mighty go at it, but things look grim as both he and Wrasslopod are pulled closer to the drawn-back blades of the erstwhile Centipope.

Salvation! Missiles come screaming across the arena and slam into the bases of the raised tentacles. Once Were Walrus and Wrasslopod drop free. But where could this have come from? Raptorcycle was the only competitor with that kind of fire-power and I saw it get blown to bits with my own eyes!

Wait, it couldn't be! But, it is! It's a miracle!

From deep within the entrance tunnel that disgorged the two rockets, an ecstatic howling is heard, backed by the sound of rolling power chords.

The joyful cacophony grows louder and louder, as 5 million dollars of last minute Czech engineering roar towards the arena...


I'm told that, not knowing how to perfect their lunatic creation, the Czech team plowed all of their money into making two equally unsophisticated companions for wolfbike, with the dream of creating a high-octane attack squadron.

What they got was cheetahbike, on whose head they spent way too much of their budget, and dogbike, which they scraped together with the rest of the money. They're late to the arena, but at least they've showed up - even if there was no time for muscly arms to be sewn on.

With the trio's single-shot RPGs fired, they race towards the beleaguered brutes, intent on powering them into battle with the godmoth...

Wait, I'm getting word that the Czechs made three extra 'bikes, not two. Turn the camera to the entry tunnel, would you Lawrence?

"We heard you liked biking, so we put a bike on your bike so you can bike while you bike."

Well, there you have it. Back to the action...

The surviving trio race towards their new compatriots. And, a shocker, a time portal opens up a badder, buffer alternate-reality Yeti tags in right as the original's head drops into the dust for the final time! Looks like Shaolin Monkey's got a chance at this after all!

Mounted up and ready to ride! They've got speed, moxie, big guns and of course big muscley arms on their side now and it's time to rock.

Yeeehaw! Man oh man just look at those missiles fly, I sure do love missiles. Where'd they come from? Probably from how awesome this zoological biker gang is. Look at Elohim up there, glimmering and shining like it owns the place. Well get ready for a beatdown, squiddy!


Oh dear...

It seems Elohim was toying with them the whole while, and playtime is over. Descending on wings whose beating spread a roiling cloud of mothdust across the arena, Elohim swiftly dispatches almost all comers.

Once Were Walrus stands alone now, deep in the cloud and surrounded by the sounds of death. If there was any room in his mind for fear, he'd be soiling himself right about now, but he stands resolute. You don't get out of a fight like this by pansying out, and he knows it.

Like the spectre of death itself, Elohim parts the cloud as it glides in towards it final kill. The light of the afterlife shines forth from its eyes, seeking out the walrus.

But he is ready. Uncoiling a chain, he swings it in a long, lazy arc and catches hold of exoskeleton plating. He knows the only way to end this is to go for the brain, don't waste time with flesh wounds and put this thing down once and for all.

Once Were Walrus is dragged behind Elohim as it once again takes flight, and crawls along the chain one hand at a time towards his goal.

Much too soon, the arena wall rears out of the mist. Elohim swoops upwards, sending Once Were Walrus slamming into the wall. He loses his grip, he's falling... he hits the ground with a wet thud. He stands up shakily, and you can see the determination in his eyes, still he's filled with fighting spirit.

But as his vision clears, he sees briefly above him an angelic figure, hundreds of eyes all opening, all opening and looking right at him.

And that does it for the Loser's League! Elohim has taken the title, and what waits next for it can only be decided by the future of the main tournament. The third round of which will be revealed tomorrow!

Please remember to tip your bartender, and remember that the Loser's League has been sponsored and operated by The Atom™