As mentioned earlier, Zoofights PLC has recently come into possession of an aircraft carrier full of hate, and it's been decided that we'll be dropping every Losers League combatant straight on to the flight deck. There they will duke it out until only one remains. All the interested parties may reinquire as to the disposition of the carrier at that time, if indeed there is any of it remaining.
Let's take a look at the competitors!
There wasn't a lot left of the ill-fated nautilus after Draaainage got through with it. We've pumped in some hemolymph and cuttlefish neuron slurry to try and get him back into fighting shape but he still seems pretty out of it. He's been given a wicked loadout including an over-sized pneumatic knife, but how well he'll be able to use them remains to be seen. With the disoriented state of the fighter, the Resistance Network has found two more volunteers to act as radio operators for the Squidiot. Last we saw them one was wailing incoherently and the other was rocking back and forth in the corner of the shipping crate. Then we closed the doors and flew it out to the carrier.
Whenever we brought Snake Pilgrim up out of cryostasis, he kept jumping around in time, more and more frequently, getting nose bleeds and shit. Suddenly he stabilized, we think because he found his "anchor." Which is a complete need to hate everything until it dies. We took the opportunity to install the tech our best and brightest have been putting together, turning the entire snake's body into a linear particle accelerator. Now he can store the chronoreactive particles he keeps producing, blast them up to relativistic speeds, and shoot beams of pure time out of his mouth. And he's still a fifty-foot long anaconda.
Out of the blasted ruins of Sturgeongrad rolled this unspeakable monstrosity. Fused into his tank by the immense heat of the explosion, rippling with tumors born of hard radiation, and abandoned by what few living soldiers he had left, the general has lost everything. The despair and fury in his eyes is enough to freeze a man in place for the brief seconds before he is obliterated by a sonic blast. There is no drive to lead now, only to destroy, and all the shackles of rationality have been loosed.
Our cleanup crews found a sorry sight when we came to collect EMMA after its battle. A head clamped hard onto a cyborg body while its jaw muscles went into rigor, leaking all sorts of important fluids onto the street, a giant lion body torn up and blown up, and a railgun shot to shit after being overloaded in order to fire off the aforementioned head. Well, we did what we could. A mammoth-sized set of artificial heart and lungs have been set into the back of the giant skull, surrounded by a forest of cavorite crystals to let the lion manipulate the local gravity to fly around. We've given a number of regular-sized lion heads the same treatment, along with laser rifles in their mouths, and set them orbiting around the main head. It's like a little solar system, if the sun could eat a truck and the planets could launch at you while shooting lasers. Also we named it with the best pun. THE BEST PUN.
Bango & Crash
Two for the price of one here, as the gorillorpion and dolphin have teamed up with the power of friendship. In order to get them ready for an all-out brawl we've given Gorillesis Mk. II a Techno Cop cartridge and Roboto-Cop a flipper-friendly combat shotgun. We've also given Gorillesis an extra controller, because now he's 2-player through and through. The pair've been in the Chunderdome day and night practicing ridiculous combo moves. Good luck out there mates!
The Australian team came to us with some unassailable logic. When the barramundi went up against a competitor with no big muscley arms, it won. When it went up against a competitor with an equal number of big muscly arms, it lost. Clearly, the only sane course of action was to graft on two more big muscly arms. Now it can bash in heads with twice the speed, and twice the panache, thanks to the neon blue lighting we've installed. It's all about the show, baby!
The AgriCultural Revolution
The onion seems to have digested a bit more than The Long March's flesh. It's still trying to kill anyone it can and reanimate them, as some unfortunate technicians and handlers discovered, but now it's trying to parade them around in a gross mockery of communist society. We're sure as soon as we dump it on the carrier it's going to try to burrow in and overgrow the place. Hopefully it won't get the chance.
That head crushing wasn't really as bad as it looked. After the President lumbered away for the customary victory bellowing and rutting, Snapture took a deep drag on his toe tag and was up and ready to go. He claims he was robbed and was still in the fight, but as he was technically dead for fifteen minutes we had no choice but to shunt him off to the Loser's League. He kindly let us weld his skull back together, and then we pointed him in the direction of the fight.
VOTING BEGINS NOW
There is no mercy. There is no escape but through victory. Choose the one (1) competitor that you think will survive. (Bango&Crash count as one)