Alright folks—we're officially back to canon. The writer-meets-character crossover? Yeah, that was a one-time chaos special. Won't happen again... or will it? Who knows, I'm just as clueless. Keep reading if you wanna know.
Anyway, no stalling today. No blabbing the obvious to stretch word counts. Let's jump right back into the mess where we left off.
___
The White Tigers still nursing their utterly defeated and broken pride after there humiliating defeat, like a horde of zombies failing to taste the final brain, trudged back to their base.
The bitter taste of defeat still fresh thanks to Sam's devious little scheme. Everyone looked around, confusion rising like smoke from a burnt meal.
The group wondered worried what happened to william and why he suddenly disappeared right before the match, just in that instant william returned to the group with a big smile in his face, holding a fire extinguisher.
"Guys! I finally found the fire extinguisher!" he announced triumphantly, as if he'd just retrieved Excalibur.
Jangla's left eye twitched. She tried to remain calm, but her boiling rage was practically setting off imaginary sprinklers.
"William... why—why are you holding a fire extinguisher... right now?" She said.
William puffed out his chest with pride. "Well, you see, Sam told me we'd need it for the match! That poor guy, so naive... He thought that if he asked me nicely for help, I'd go easy on him during the race. But guess what? I don't plan to go easy on him. Not today."
Liabilities slowly placed a hand on William's shoulder, his face dripping with pity. "All the best," he said solemnly. "Let me buy you a drink... if you survive."
William's confident grin faltered. "W-what do you mean If i survive...?"
Before anyone could answer, Jangla and Tsunami descended on him like a Category 5 hurricane.
"YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!" Jangla screeched.
"WHY ON EARTH WOULD WE NEED A FIRE EXTINGUISHER IN A RELAY RACE?!" Tsunami added.
"How could you fall for such an OBVIOUS trap?!"
William, still clutching the extinguisher like it was his last lifeline, laughed nervously. "Uhh... team spirit?"
What team spirit we already lost all because of you.
Things are about to get very graphic, so let's just say—for the sake of our family-friendly rating—this scene has been [CENSORED] due to excessive blood, screams, and foam.
The next match for the day was: Tug of War.
The participants were announced with the same energy as a gladiator showdown.
The White Tigers:
Liabilities
Jangla
Tsunami
Ori
Steven
William (yes, still alive somehow)
The Red Beans:
Roslin
Flower
Per-Guy
Julyboy
Thomas
Chingla
The two teams stood face to face in an intense stare-down. There was literal lightning between them. Not metaphorical—actual lightning. No one knows why.
"Woah woah, wait a second!" Roslin suddenly shouted, narrowing her eyes. "Why is Julyboy in our team?!"
Before anyone could answer, a whistle blew. FWEEET!
And entering with his usual brand of smug chaos came none other than their very special guest referee: Sam.
The moment the whistle echoed, both teams looked at each other.
They knew.
This was about to go South. Like,
Antarctica-level South.
Roslin scowled, raising her voice. "Why are you suddenly the referee?! And why is Julyboy in our team?!"
Sam blew the whistle again, unfazed.
FWEEET!
"Why are you getting so hyped up?" he said casually. "Aren't you supposed to be happy that I'm the ref?"
Tsunami pointed at him like she was choosing her next victim. "What do you mean by that? Are you saying you're going to help them win?"
FWEEEET!
Sam gasped like he was personally offended. "Are you implying that I'm someone who would use cheap tricks to let my team win?"
Jangla snapped. "Implying? We're not implying anything—we know you do! We know exactly what you did to William!"
FWEEEET!
Sam blew the whistle again, smiling with fake innocence. "Now now, no need to get so heated. I mean, I didn't lie to William. The fire extinguisher was actually to cool off your heads! I can't have my precious opponents suffering a heatstroke, can I? So I asked him to go find it. Aren't I just the most caring rival?"
Jangla and Tsunami (in perfect sync):
"And what do you think is the reason for our hot head in the first place?!"
FWEEEET!
"Don't mind the small details," Sam said, waving it off like a annoying mosquito.
Roslin cut back in. "Back to my question—why are you suddenly the ref, and why is Julyboy in our team?!"
Sam blew the whistle again FWEEET!
and answered, "Well, the actual referee had an urgent... SIGNING matter to attend to. So I had to fill in his place. Therefore, Julyboy had to fill in mine."
Jangla whispered under her breath, "Don't tell me he did that thing again to our ref… I feel bad for his stomach at this point."
Roslin still wasn't satisfied. "Okay, but why Julyboy? Isn't he supposed to be our opponent? I wouldn't even mind if he was remotely useful, but he's just a sleepyhead! Are you even trying to help our team?!"
Sam blew the whistle again FWEEET! and held up a finger dramatically.
"Are you implying that I'm just some stupid guy who doesn't care about his team and only wants to enjoy the game?!"
Roslin replied, deadpan. "Implying?
I remember exactly what you did during the Simon Says match.
Sam opened his mouth and inhaled, ready to blow the whistle again—
"STOP BLOWING THAT WHISTLE EVERY TIME!!"
Everyone, in perfect harmony, screamed like a choir of fed-up banshees.
The participants for the tug of war match were fired up with intensity.
A burning passion filled them—not the inspiring, heroic kind. No, it was the "I want to strangle Sam" kind.
Thanks to his relentless trash talk just before the match, both teams were now emotionally, mentally, and possibly spiritually triggered. United by a shared enemy, they were ready to channel their inner rage... straight through the rope.
Each side took their assigned positions, gripping the rope like it owed them money. Feet dug deep into the ground, faces tense. The atmosphere? Electrifying. Honestly, if someone had sneezed, a lightning bolt might've struck.
In the middle stood Sam—smirking like a referee selected by a committee of blindfolded squirrels that he is.
He raised the whistle to his lips.
Everyone tensed.
He inhaled deeply.
And then exhaled—