CHAPTER 054: Surprise guest...

Not all the winners of today's elimination round went to the chow hall to celebrate. One, in particular, preferred a much quieter evening.

He wore a red stripped shirt, moleskin slacks held up via suspenders, boots and a straw hat. Every piece had the appearance of home-made clothing; yet, the occasional glowing of a rune sewed into the stitching suggested they had a much higher value. He carried a woodcutting axe over his shoulder, its blade also glowing with strange runes.

One of the black suited individuals from earlier today followed him. Her tone was much more respectful compared to how she spoke with other participants.

"Mister Pioneer, sir. Will you require anything else, tonight?"

"No, I intend to have a quiet night with my sister."

"Understood, sir. Do you require any additional security for your vestments?"

"No, I trust you all. It is fine."

"Yes, sir. See you tomorrow."

Having reached Pioneer's hotel room, the black suited lady excused herself.

CLICK!

Turning the lock, Pioneer opened his door to reveal a young woman in a rococo dress. The white blouse and blue plaid skirt gave her outfit an antebellum feel. She stood next to a wheelchair, her smile illuminating the room upon his entrance.

"Welcome back, brother Oscar. Did you want to go out, tonight?"

"Sister Penelope, if you want to go out, just ask. Let me get these vestments off, first."

"I'll help! Just remind me, does the magic underwear come off first? Or is it the boots?"

"You can help with the last bit. Most everything else, I can do by myself."

Sitting in the wheelchair, Pioneer first removed his boots. His toes, which were wiggling just a second ago, turned dead to the world. He was able to adjust his legs to remove the pants, and the shirt came off with no problem.

With only his temple garments left, Pioneer finally turned to his sister.

"I forgot a towel."

"I've got one here, next to your change of clothes."

"Oh, thanks."

Covering his waist, Pioneer removed the white underwear stretching down to his knees. Upon their removal, all feeling left his lower body.

"Ah, back to normal."

"Are you sure you don't want to go out, brother?"

"Did you not go out and explore while I was waiting?"

"Of course not! What if something happened, and you needed me?"

"I can move just fine with these vestments, sis! There isn't a need for you to wait by the phone all week."

"... You know that isn't what I'm talking about."

"Ah, that... Okay, lean me forward. We'll get an update from that crazy codger, then you can finally relax."

Grabbing under his armpits, Penelope lifted Pioneer off his wheelchair a slight amount.

TOOT!

A cloud of green gas exited his rear, coalescing into a familiar form.

"Ah, what is it now? I was having a wonderful nap, you know!"

This Zarog was far more beefy than the two previous incarnations. His sage-like beard was replaced by one right at home on a pirate's face, and he carried himself with the bearings of a mountain bandit.

"Please don't tell me you slept through the entire competition. I need you alert, in case we run into another contestant!"

"Relax! Even asleep, my battle instincts won't miss another me!"

"What about that one time," Penelope asked, after getting Zarog's half of the conversation relayed to her.

"You mean what whipper snapper at the airport? You prove my point with that question, missy! Just how many rounds had that disciple won?"

"None, he was total newbie!"

"Exactly! You remember how easy that punk was to eliminate, yes? So, don't worry! Anything I see that you can't handle, I'll be sure to notice."

"Well, you heard him Penelope. No need to worry now, right?"

"I can't not worry! What if the government finds out these really aren't legendary relics? What if they find out you made them all, yourself?"

"Sister, it doesn't matter if they discover it. After all, it's not like that comet fell on only America. Now, promise you won't stay cooped up tomorrow. I want you to have lots of fun stories to tell your friends back home."

"Fine..."

...

Meanwhile, for the losers, their ICU felt more like a morgue with the terrible mood on everyone's face. In the eyes not covered from injury, a bevy of negative emotions could be seen: depression, anger, and especially regret.

Only one set in the room bucked this trend, instead flashing a look of gratitude. They belonged to Octo-vine, who's target was the very vines growing from his back.

"Oh, thank god you all are alright... Don't be silly, I'm not that hurt! It's just a few cracked ribs and some stitches from all those splinters."

"Who are you talking to," a half-burned woman asked from the bed beside him.

"Hrm... Well it was Inky who asked the question, but I was kind of talking to all of them."

"You mean those things on your back are all sentient!?!"

"Yup! I tell you, it was tricky at first, getting all these guys to get along... Especially Stinky and Blinky! Lord, those two were constantly fighting after taking root."

"Ugh! Don't talk about fighting," The beefcake on Octo-vine's right said. His arm was stuck in a sling, and the attached shoulder was likewise bound under a thick cast.

"Ah, apologies. Probably not the best place to mention that word, in hindsight."

"I don't care," the half-burnt woman said, "It's not like I'll be in the hero game, anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Ha," Truckzilla laughed, answering the question for Mexican Candy.

"You think our mentors will waste money on a bunch of loser? They'd rather jump ship to a sure bet, the jerks!"

"So that's why the druid department isn't returning my calls... Well, what if we all do something else, then?"

"Like what? Start a band?"

"Sure! That's a perfect idea!"

"I was joking, you know? Beefcake, tell this kid I was joking."

"I also think it's a good idea, actually. I've always wanted to play the drums..."

"Right! And with my 8 buddies, I could easily play several guitars!"

"What would I be then," Mexican Candy asked.

"The singer, maybe?"

"That's crazy! Who's going to watch a singer that looks like me?"

"I would," a mysterious fourth voice suddenly said. The three losers turned to discover a Mystery Drummer standing before them.

"And you are?"

"Yeah, buzz off! We are having a private conversation here, bub!"

"I just happened to be passing by, when I heard you all. The band I am with is in need of an opening act, what do you think?"

The gloom on two of the losers' countenance was replaced with a much more treacherous emotion: hope...