"Well that was boring." Claudette's voice cut through the arena's sudden quiet as she sipped from her glass—the red liquid catching the harsh floodlights. Wine, raspberry juice, or blood; at this point, Rhett couldn't tell the difference anymore. The Zombie Queen's disappointment hung in the air like smoke. "I came all this way to see some action, not watch some coward get executed by this weirdo."
"W-w-well, this is just a fluke!" Charlie's voice cracked as sweat beaded on his forehead, the pressure of disappointed VIPs bearing down on his shoulders like lead weights. The announcer's desperation was palpable—he couldn't afford to lose Grand's favor, not when his career, maybe even his life, hung in the balance. "Aha! This is just an... appetizer! To whet your appetite before the real show begins. We're saving the best wine for later!"
