The new airship of Armand von Krauss is in the air and on its journey from London to Leeds. In the meantime, there is a deck set up on the top ring and Tarrasque is flexing his new (temporary) power increase (given when Esmeralda von Krauss infused his wound with her blood) against a bunch of sparring partners. A man stands in the ring against Tarrasque now, but he looks scared as he sees the dozen other partners laying and groaning on the outside of the ring, some of them nursing broken bones while others just moan in pain in a pitiful sort of way.
Sparring Partner: Hey, I tap now.
Tarrasque cocks his head as he looks at him.
Tarrasque: Me no touch you yet? You weak? You too weak fight Tarrasque?
The sparring partner nods his head rapidly, going ghost white as Tarrasque begins a slow approach in a fighting stance.
Sparring Partner: Me weak. I mean. Yeah, man. I’m fucking weak. This kind of bullshit isn’t worth the fifty bucks that I was promised if I came here and fought with you. Me fucking weak.
Tarrasque nods, drool starting to roll off of his chin as he regards the sparring partner as one might a bit of delicious hanging meat.
Tarrasque: You weak. Me am strong. Strong eat weak!
Sparring Partner: Wait, what? No!
Tarrasque springs at the sparring partner, taking him down with a spear and clamping his teeth into the man’s shoulder, who screams in pain in a high pitched “I’ve gone beyond all sorts of sanity” kind of scream. He tries pelting Tarrasque in the face with his one good hand to get him to release his bite, but even a bloody nose doesn’t give Tarrasque cause to release his clenched jaw. He begins to shake his head while the man screams even more, tearing away a goblet of flesh from the man’s shoulder that he chews and swallows. Blood pours from the new wound, splashing Tarrasque in the face and chest.
Tarrasque palms the man’s face with an iron claw and lifts him up nearly a foot before sending the back of his head into the mat like a savage stone being used to crush a snail. He lifts the man’s head up so that he can against smash the back of his head into the mat. He does this over and over again while the man rapidly tries to tap whenever he can until he is knocked out and can no longer tap. Tarrasque just chants over and over again.
Tarrasque: Weak. Weak! WEAK!
At ringside, Armand von Krauss watches with a certain amount of sadistic pride.
Armand von Krauss: You see that Niko? You hear that, Kono? That is what happens when you enter the ring with my beast now. He senses your weakness and devours it. See?
Tarrasque regards the unconscious sparring partner for a moment before running his hand down the man’s chest. His glides his hand down to the man’s waist before the man opens up one eye to give Tarrasque a curious look. Sensing that he is playing possum, Tarrasque sinks his teeth into the man’s side, bringing out another scream from him. This time even more panicked. A few of the other sparring partners that Tarrasque has already defeated look like they might want to go in and help this man, but another high pitched scream of pain keeps them down.
Armand von Krauss: Where will your head go when you are being destroyed a piece at a time by this beast in the ring now? Will you think back to when you were in the future and could play with your high gravity machines and brag about how strong you were? You will know that all the strength that you can attain with alien technology will mean nothing when compared to the savagery that will spill from this beast like a waterfall.
Tarrasque liberates another chunk of flesh from the sparring partner, tearing through the abdominal wall with his teeth. He reaches into the wound with a grasping claw and comes out with a loop of small intestines. Armand whistles.
Armand von Krauss: Down, beast! You have beaten them all. Go rest in your room where the chef will bring you real food to eat.
Tarrasque glowers over at Armand, looking as if he might want to attack, but he does not. He heads out of the ring and down below to “his room” where he will be fed. The sparring partner is screaming in the middle of the ring, blood pouring from his side as more of his guts slide out of the wound. Armand brings his smart phone up to his mouth, but not before pressing a couple of buttons.
Armand von Krauss: We have a few people that need brought down to medical for urgent care until we can drop them off in Leeds. Come quickly. Now…
Armand hangs up the phone and watches as the moire dire of the wounded sparring partners are taken down below to medical for help. This includes sedating the man in the ring who has been partially eaten by Tarrasque.
Armand von Krauss: Kono, Niko. My beast will rend the flesh from your bones as you can plainly see. I am more powerful than him.
He lets that sink in before he continues.
Armand von Krauss: It is I who holds the beast’s leash. It is I who keeps him under control. Together we will not be stopped in the ring by a pair of time traveling morons who cannot even serve their lord and master well enough to be able to come home and remain there. We will crush you. We will smear your blood across the mat as a warning to the other teams. We will send out notice to the Bastards that we are the power to fear. We will set the bar too high for anyone else to be able to reach.
The camera begins to fade as Armand lights himself an Egyptian cigarette, the scene closing on the cherry of the cigarette before going dark.
