Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pink’s a good color on you, Bob,” Darrell blurted, adjusting the collar of his trench coat and checking it in the mirror to make sure it didn’t stick up weirdly. 

The man sitting behind him in the dressing room looking in an adjacent mirror, visibly paused and looked back at Darrell through the mirror. “What?” 

Straightening out the front of his flame embroidered trench coat, Darrell struck a quick jazz hand’s pose in the mirror and flashed himself a smile of pride before spinning around and walking over to Bob’s side of the dressing room. “I said, pink’s a good color on you,” 

Bob made a face of confusion before continuing to fiddle with his three button shirt sleeve. “Pink? Really? Pink doesn’t go with my gray and brown costume,” 

Darrell rolled his eyes and went up behind Bob, reaching over his shoulders and pressing his two index fingers against his partner’s cheek bones. “I'm not talkin' about your musketeer half lamés half cowboy outfit, I’m talkin' about your face. A slight dustin' of pink on the cheeks is a good look on you,” 

Bob blinked and stopped what he was doing, looking up at Darrell with his eyes and the help of the mirror. “Are you talking about when you walked into the heroes lounge with The King and saw me with all those kids asking me to sign their hero cards for them?” 

Darrell couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. “Bingo, bingo, Bob,” 

Bob laughed a bit and shook his head to remove Darrell’s fingers from his face. “You’re just happy that you got to see me flustered by a group of kids,” 

“Yes, yes I was,” Darrell confirmed proudly, slinking his arms around Bob’s front and hugging him from behind, whilst resting his head on top of Bob’s. “In fact I liked the look on you so much that I’m tempted to put some more on you just so you can see for yourself,” 

That got more of a reaction out of Darrell’s more calm and collected partner. 

Letting out another laugh, Bob turned on his stool and gave Darrell a push away. “Not before we get in front of the cameras, you dork,” 

Darrell laughed as he stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay okay! But once we're out of the lenses…" 

Bob rolled his eyes with a knowing smirk. "I'm all yours, I know. We established this awhile ago. Now be a gentleman and help me button these last ones on my sleeve," 

Darrell grinned as he stepped back up to Bob and took hold of his shirt sleeve. "Of course! Anythin' for you, my darlin'!” 

Bob looked away to poorly hide his amusement. 

Once Darrell had finished buttoning the last button, Bob stood up. “Are you ready to do this, Darrell?” 

With a confident grin, Darrell nodded his head. “I was born ready, Bob,” 

“Let’s do this,” 

The two of them headed to the door of their dressing room, stepping out into the hall and taking an immediate right followed by a cross of the hall and to a room that had a large glass window that spectated the massive Tournament arena, where the eye could see from horizon to horizon if they stood in the right spots. 

The room had man run cameras, lights, and a desk with two chairs and microphones propped on it for the two of them. Two spots that were for them so their backs were to the glass. 

Walking into the room, the two of them went behind the desk and pulled the chairs back from it and took their places. 

Darrell caught the eye of one of the camera people and was given an o-kay hand sign followed by the person holding up five fingers. 

Darrell nodded his head in response before turning away for a moment to comb his fingers through his hair one last time just to make sure. “Five minute mark. Then the greatest event since the Olympics will be in full swing,” 

Bob grinned and took in a deep breath of air, slowly exhaling it to prepare himself for speaking in his commentary voice, something Darrell had noticed after so long of working with him. “Yep, greatest event in the world to be invented,” 

It felt like nothing could ruin this feel-good moment because it would play out just like all the other years they've done this with the same energy. In a sense it was predictable, but pleasantly old fashioned with the occasional surprise. 

Correction; nothing could ruin this. All they had to do was- 

“Sir please! You can't go in there! They’re about to go live!” 

Fuck. Correction yet again; something could ruin this. 

Darrell blinked out of his fantasy-esk haze of perfection and turned his attention to the door, squinting at it against the bright spotlights that were on to properly light him and Bob. 

“Out of the way, can’t you see that this is more important than some televised program?” Snapped back a higher pitched and accented voice. 

Frowning, Darrell watched the door to the broadcasting room open widely to reveal the hallway and a number of people swarming it. 

“Mister Zil?” Darrell questioned, causing Bob to look in confusion as well. 

Zil Medvedev and Professor Zundapp both walked in and approached the desk, stopping once Zil was directly in front of the desk and Professor Z was slightly behind him. 

“Is there something that you need, sir?” Bob asked politely, even though his tone was unsure. A tone that was foreign to be hearing from him. 

The Russian man stared down at them without a word for an uncomfortable amount of time that wasn’t usually socially normal before he spoke slowly and deliberately. “You two are Bob Cutlass and Darrell Cartrip, commentaries of this Quirk Tournament event, yes?” 

Darrell drew in a quick breath of air and with the most least nervous looking smile he could muster, replied. “That’s uh… you’re in the right place buddy, that's us. I'm Darrell and this is uh, this is my partner Bob," 

Zil on the other hand did not crack a smile to ease Darrell’s mind and slowly it began to feel like Zil was trying to interrogate them or something. “You both are well connected, yes? You have access to certain things that not many others would be able to get to?” 

Darrell stuttered for an answer as one of the camera operators flashed up two fingers, giving them that two minute warning before they went live. 

Thankfully, Bob cleared his throat and spoke to cover for his partner’s lack of a response. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re asking, Mister Medvedev. Perhaps we can help you better after the Tournament is done?” He suggested, taking into mind the panicked and frantic looking camera operators and schedulers who had never once had someone force a conversation so close to a live broadcasting before. 

"Dummkopfs," Professor Zundapp scoffed. “Do either of you have access to the video footage of the cameras that are placed around the arena or any of the body cameras that are on each competitor?” 

The silence that spanned between Darrell and Bob spoke volumes as they blatantly side-eyed each other with disgusting amounts of confusion. Each of them trying to see if they had misheard what the professor had just asked them. 

Bob’s tone dropped as he spoke again, becoming less focused on politeness and pleasantries, and more focused on the rules and regulations that were set up to prevent any foul play. “Access to any of the competitors body cameras and the arena cameras are prohibited to clearance levels below eighth. Nobody in this room is that high of a clearance level and we don't know anyone who is. Does that answer your question, gentlemen?" 

Darrell and the rest of the room held their breath under Zil and Professor Z’s stares of judgment. 

Bob had lied right through his teeth; Of course the two of them had a high enough clearance level to gain access to all the video recordings, but they weren’t supposed to give them to anyone but the competitors and their crew chiefs. Not even the Tournament officials could get their hands on any footage easily because of all the training secrets they held. 

But they were better off than the sponsors and agents, who weren't allowed to have access to those recordings period. 

Many of the moves and strategies that were thought of were strictly between crew chief and competitor and strategy secrets were no joking matter. Darrell knew that from experience, especially since he had been a competitor of this very Quirk Tournament himself. 

His history with competing and being a superhero turned commentary star over the years also turned him into the better liar of them, but the lie that Bob just told sounded so convincing this time that even some of the camera operators and schedulers looked at each other confused, and Darrell had no idea how good Zil and Professor Z were at telling lies apart from truths and half truths. For all he knew, Zil and Zundapp could be the worst people to try and lie to, but at the same time they might not be. 

And that was the chance that they had to bank on to work. 

“Sirs, you’re live in fifty seconds!” One of the schedulers announced out loud sounding stressed, something that wasn't advised, especially in a room full of microphones that couldn't unknowingly be hot on accident. 

Zil hummed in a low, unrecognizable tone. It sounded gravely and grim, almost like Zil was trying to read their minds. “We will talk after the Quirk Tournament then. Do not try to find me, I will find you much faster. Enjoy the show,” 

And with that declaration, Zil turned his back to the two of them and walked away with Professor Zundapp following quickly at his heels with his hands clasped behind his back in a poised regal form. 

Only when the door opened and shut again did Darrell and Bob turn to each other with confused and concerned faces. Some of the other crew members in the room were whispering quietly among themselves about what the encounter was all about while others were trying to shush them so the various microphones set around the room wouldn’t pick up their voices. 

“He’ll find us faster?” Bob asked quietly. “What does that mean?” 

Darrell shrugged slightly and shook his head, a building unease settling deep in his gut. “I don't know, but that was a weird exchange. What do you think he wanted the camera recordings for?” 

“You’re guess is as good as mine,” Bob frowned, looking down at the desk. "Something about that whole thing just felt… off," 

Darrell made a sound that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a scoff. "You're tellin' me that?" 

"It honestly scared me, Darrell, what do you think Medvedev wanted with the camera footage?" Bob suddenly cut himself off, staring at one of the dark areas of the room with a look of shock. 

This time a camera operator whisper-yelled over a panicked sea of camera operators to them. “You’re live! You’re live!” 

Darrell’s own eyes widened as he turned himself back to the main camera, suddenly finding himself flustered at being caught off guard by the whole previous interaction and beginning to feel a nasty pool of dread opening in his stomach. 

Whoever was tuned into their program just as everything, like the cameras and microphones, went live definitely caught the tail end of that conversation. There was no doubt about it, and when he and Bob rewatched it after the recording went up for the internet to immortalize, they too would hear the end of the conversation before Bob abruptly stopped talking. 

Bob quickly turned away and coughed into the crook of his elbow. “Excuse me,” He turned back to the camera and sat a little taller. “Good evening, I’m Bob Cutlass and I apologize for that awkward start to your regularly scheduled program,” 

Darrell eventually snapped himself into performance mode and cracked a grin, forcibly easing up on his own posture. Their mistake was huge, but they had to try and play it off. Saying someone else's name that wasn't in front of a camera was never good and considered unprofessional, but saying someone's name and then confessing confusion that they had been asking around for recordings so out of context made the slipup that much worse. 

“I’m here with my partner, Darrell Cartrip, and right now we are tuned into the opening night of The Quirk Tournament where quirk users from across the country are here with us right here in your very own Westmore City,” Bob cued. 

Darrell, with years of practice improvisation under his belt and even more years of work time with Bob, took over the conversation after the cue seamlessly despite his mind being distracted. “Tournament fans tonight are getting excited for two of the most action packed months yet to come as they root on their favorite competitors! With a growing roster list, there are currently fifty seven competitors here tonight lookin' to score big time in the Placer Challenges movin' forward,” 

“The Ceremony winner four months ago is the newest member of this roster, but he seems to have all sorts of praise and adoration from the fans,” Bob added in. 

Darrell laughed. “Everyone’s got their eyes on the brand new rookie, Lightnin' McQueen. And I won't lie, Bob, I do too! The kid has a lot of stuff to be at it in the big leagues with all the other pros,” 

Bob turned his head to him and gave him an amused, questioning look for the viewers at home on the t.v could have something more interesting to look at before the camera angles changed. “Are you saying that the other pros might be getting a little nervous about how much power McQueen has been demonstrating lately?” 

Darrell grinned back at Bob, locking eyes with him and planting one hand down on the desk. “Oh you bet they’re gettin’ nervous! The rookie really hasn’t had much of a problem demonstratin' his strength through his social media platforms, and if the video from The King’s own personal social media accounts of Lightnin' being bold enough to make the first moves against him in one on one combat doesn’t prove it for you, than I don't know what will!” 

“Well, we’ll be finding out soon enough if all the bragging done by McQueen online matches what he’s going to do here,” Bob remarked with a light chuckle, looking back at the camera now that the small banter with Darrell was done. “It looks like the competitors are all lined up to take their places for the first out of three Placer Challenges. The Obstacle Course, The Jump and Seize, and then finally the Point Free For All,” 

“I’m interested to see what categories Lightnin' will excel in,” Darrell pondered. “You know how every veteran competitor has the category that gives them the most points, I wonder which one will be Lightnin’s freebee event in a sense,” 

Bob hummed and nodded his head. “Well, freebee or not, McQueen has large strides to follow if he ever wants to keep up with the pros,” 

“And by the look on all the pros’ faces, they don't plan on makin' those strides any shorter,” Darrell laughed, looking at the t.v they had in front of them so they could watch the Tournament from the ground level perspective. 

All the competitors were lined up along the far side of the arena in numerical order on the starting wall. Some were chatting to the person next to them or they were visibly getting into their focus mode, which consisted of staring dead ahead, bowing their heads with their eyes shut, or slowly breathing in and out in visible mediation. 

Bob laughed a little bit. "You don't even think The King is going to go easy on the rookie?" 

Cameras panned to each competitor for spectators at home to view, hovering on them for a view seconds before moving on. 

Darrell 'tsked' and shook his head. "Nope, not even The King. This is his last year as a competitor and Dinoco has come forward and admitted to payin' him big time to go all out. The tycoon billionaire sponsor, Tex Dinoco, called this heavy payment a thank you, a partin' gift, and a courtesy payment all rolled into one," 

"That's one impressive thing to do, Darrell, that's for sure. The only thing left to do is wonder, after the Quirk Tournament is over, who's going to take The King's place under Dinoco's sponsorship?" Bob questioned. "Some critics are saying that McQueen will take it. While others are saying that The King's nephew, Cal 'The Prince' Weathers, will pick up the mantel," 

Bob hummed in a positive tone. “Well, only time will tell and right now, time is tellin' us that the officials are about to bring this Tournament to an official start," 

The camera panned upward to the sky, showing off an impressive tower that had a ten second countdown flashing on its screen. 

All the spectators in the crowd were chanting its descent in numbers. 

Ten 

Nine 

Eight 

"Here we go, Darrell," Bob anticipated, rubbing his hands together as the pros all got into positions that would hopefully give them the best start to complete the obstacle course first. 

Seven 

Six 

Five 

"Ready or not, Bob, this is comin' fast," Darrell replied, unable to keep his excitement out of his voice as his leg bounced up and down eagerly under the desk. 

Four 

Three 

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," 

Two 

One 

"To the Quirk Tournament!" 

A loud buzzer went off and the camera view changed from one camera to another so t.v spectators could now need the competitors. 

All the competitors had leaped from their positions, jumping off the wall and onto the floor of the obstacle course. Some broke into dead sprints right off the bat to get a head start while others were left in the dust unwillingly or on their own accord. 

"And they're off! Wilts, Pyro, and Blizzard have started strong, taking a big lead here in the beginning," Bob began, sitting a little taller in his chair. 

Darrell held up his index finger and then pointed at some other people on the t.v from where he was at. “Not so fast, Bob. The King, Thunderbird, The Ultimatum and Lightnin' McQueen are gaining fast with Scorpion hot on their heels! Everyone is wanting the best head start and it's not being given up by any of them any time soon!” 

The competitors all sprinted down the floor, some eying the people next to them to see if they could get a push or a shove in while others continued to focus on themselves and getting ahead. 

“And Pyro is the first to take the leap of faith into the tangle of ropes!” Darrell laughed, clapping his hands together. “And The King takes off and pulls ahead, being the second person to jump into the rope swing portion, leaving everyone else in the dust!” 

In the Obstacle Course portion of the Placer Challenges night, there were three separate levels. The rope swinging area, the tossing floors, and then finally, the trust level. 

The rope swing was just what it sounded like, a bunch of elevated platforms with ropes hanging on them, below them, and around them for each competitor to leap and grab for. They would be scored by which place they land in once they cross into the next section and then proceed. 

"The crowd is gettin' riled up, Bob!" Darrell noted, turning his attention to all the spectating fans in the audience. "I think this is the biggest turnout I've ever seen," 

The smile on Bob's face now that the Tournament was on route was more natural than forced by now as he picked up the commentary effortlessly. "I'll say. But now, all of the competitors are within the grasps of the rope swing portion. The leaders, Pyro, The King, Thunderbird, The Ultimatum, Lightning McQueen, and Scorpion keeping a firm grasp on their positions," 

"Now wait just a second!" Darrell interrupted, watching the screen with a renewed, passionate interest. 

On screen, the leaders were all neck and neck. Leaping from one rope to another when suddenly, Pyro, who was in first place missed one of the ropes and fell out of the main camera's sight. 

"Oh!" Darrell practically yelled. "The Pyro misses one of the ropes and falls into the underbelly of the obstacle course! Losing his lead to The King!” 

The underbelly of the obstacle course was a dark, empty area that spanned across the obstacle course. The people that fell into the underbelly were able to get to the floor of the course again at the end of each level, but they only had one shot, and if a lot of people fell in then… 

“Pyro isn’t the only one to have done that slip up,” Bob pointed out. “Competitors The Ultimatum, Scorpion, Wilts, Groundhog, Zoom, Print, Ghost, Hatter, and nearly a dozen or more have joined him too. Pyro will most definitely have some company down there,” 

“It’ll sure be a push and shove to see who all is goin' to get out of the underbelly once the second portion comes up,” 

The camera switched to the underbelly for a moment, showing Pyro running down the dark area to keep his lead underneath with The Ultimatum and Scorpion not far behind. While his lead was lost above since points were negated depending on how many times the person had fallen in, his lead wasn’t lost below. 

The camera switched back up to the above, viewing the rope swing area from above before panning back down and turning toward each competitor to get a view of them for the fans on the t.v. The King was still ahead and he was going to be the first to dive into the second portion of the obstacle course. 

“The King is in the first third of the stretch. Everyone else is scrambling, Lightnin' McQueen and Thunderbird are behind him,” Darrell emphasized enthusiastically, his own excitement growing just underneath the surface of his skin. “They’re going! They’re going! And- And The King passes first into the tossin' floors portion of the obstacle course!” 

“We’ll certainly be seeing if The King’s luck is going to hold out,” Bob reminded, running a quick hand through his hair. 

Tossing floors was the second section of the obstacle course. It was full of floating platforms that would spin, ascend and descend, and open up like trapdoors underneath people’s feet when they were stepped on. This second level was usually the great equalizer due to it sometimes relying on pure dumb luck to get out of some of the tricks it pulls as well serving as a place for those who might not be the fastest to show off some of their more tuned reflexes. 

“The first few are beginning to trickle in behind the three leaders, slowly closing the massive gap that had formed after Pyro, The Ultimatum, and Scorpion fell into the underbelly. But it looks like The King, McQueen, and Thunderbird aren’t planning on letting everyone else join them at the front,” 

As the camera continued to pan across the arena, the leaders kept pushing each other and themselves to be faster, which in turn created an ever growing gap between third and fourth place. Some people fell once they entered the tossing floors area while others climbed out of the underbelly to go in, but even from the ground level it was clear that Lightning, Chick Hicks, and Strip Weathers were going to continue keep this three way rivalry just between them. 

Whether that three way rivalry would continue outside of the Tournament was still unclear, but everyone would figure that out soon enough as the leaders flawlessly cleared the tossing floors section into the third in record time. 

They were so far ahead that the person in fourth place was still only about half way through the second portion. 

The third and final level of the obstacle course was the trust level. The trust level is filled with all sorts of robotic enemies that will jump out and ruthlessly attack and target any person that they caught sight of. The attacks would then only continue to get more and more relentless with buildup, which would then become impossible to avoid no matter how fast a competitor was. 

The trust level was meant to force multiple people to cross through together so they could watch each other’s backs. Making it the final table turner of the obstacle course. 

“The King, Lightning McQueen, and Thunderbird have all entered the trust level,” Bob announced, his eyes glued to the screen as the first couple of robots popped into view and began to advance. “If the three of them want to make it through this level without being stopped or losing their leads, they’ll need to push through together,” 

Darrell continued to bounce his leg anxiously as he watched the screen. "We'll see if they can do it or not. But I think that I speak for pretty much everyone when I say that The King, Lightnin' McQueen, and Thunderbird are going to remain the top dogs of this competition,” 

The camera was being forced to double pan now. Constantly having to make sure that spectators at home could see everyone else other than just the leaders. Since this was just the Placer Challenges, anything and everything could happen within the next few challenges, even the next two months that could change the tides of who leads and eventually takes home the winning trophy. 

The leaders continued to pressure forward, blasting, striking, and swinging at anything that got too close for their liking like a well oiled machine in clock work. They seemed to flawlessly cover each other with little to no effort. 

The King turned and fired a beam of blue energy at a robot that had snuck up on Thunderbird, while Lightning took care of some of the bots that had gathered behind The King to take him down. All while Thunderbird brought his hands together and wiped out a large group of robots that was forming a wall and blocking their path. 

The timing and unspoken coordination that was happening between the three leaders was so impressive that if Darrell didn’t know Lightning was a rookie from the start, he would have assumed that Lightning was this unseen, underground pro superhero with years of training under his belt. But that wasn’t the case; Lightning McQueen was the fresh rookie straight out of the academy and had never once seen the inside of an arena like this one in Westmore in person before until days before the challenges even began. 

“The leaders are nearing the end of the final level in the obstacle course while everyone else scrambles to grab fourth place,” Bob announced, bringing Darrell out of his thoughts. “Darrell, I have never seen three people work together so effortlessly. If they continue this streak throughout the next two months they’ll be near unreachable to the others under third place,” 

“This is just the first night, anythin' and everythin' can happen, Bob,” Darrell reminded, restating what his brain had already informed him of to his partner. “We gotta keep that in mind,” 

One final crack of Lightning’s electricity rang out and suddenly the cameras all watched the three leaders make a mad dash for the finish line. 

“And the bots are clear!” Bob realized. “The mad dash for the finish line is an intense one!” 

The leaders were all neck and neck, each trying to push themselves just a little bit more to overcome the other. In the end, however, it was the world’s favorite pro superhero The King that pulled ahead at the last second with Lightning coming in second and Chick crossing the finish line in third, which Bob began to announce for the audience at home as the three slowed to a stop on the other side of the finish line. 

At the end of the day, Darrell noted, anyone who had some base form of understanding on how the human body worked with experience over time understood that The King was always going to come in first no matter how strong Lightning hyped himself up to be. 

Strip Weathers was a man who had been in this profession for a good twenty years now, with countless wins and Tournament trophies to show that he was good at what he did despite being in a profession where most died young, retired early, or were heavily scarred mentally and physically to the point where they became unrecognizable from the people they once were. 

The strength The King had was built up over years of training and years of failing and getting back up again, not to mention his slim build and height gave him an advantage over the youthful and inexperienced Lightning McQueen and the stouter Chick Hicks. 

The King was always going to win; and maybe that's why the turnover for this year's opening night was so big. Everyone wanted to know if Dinoco was noticeably on the lookout for a new hero that could keep up to sponsor since The King was going to retire to become a full time superhero. 

More heroes began to press into the trust level. Some got blasted while others managed to work together and secure themselves solid placements. Bob and he called off each placement as they went for about a half an hour until there was a bit of a gap between thirty ninth place and fortieth place. 

That's when Bob broke the steady consistency of call offs. “It looks like the Dinoco pit finally has some company this year, Darrell,” 

Darrell blinked and clicked his mind back to solid improv mode, looking at the screen to quickly figure out what Bob was talking about. 

The camera was showing The King with one hand on his hip and the other waving toward the Dinoco pit where all the VIP’s and pit crew were. He had a genuine, award winning smile on his face as the camera faded back to the pit to reveal Cal Weathers and a bunch of other people that consisted of teenagers and young children holding up signs that said various cheers and praise to show their support.

'Go King!' 

'Let's go 43!' 

'Take your crown!' 

'The King rules with Dinoco!' 

All of them had written phrases of encouragement that were all aimed at Strip Weathers. Some of the younger kids that were being held in the arms over the older kids even had Dinoco blue crowns on their heads and giant foam hands. 

Darrell couldn't help the warm feeling that rose in his chest as he laughed at the sight. "It seems that the Dinoco pit does have some company with them. How long has it been since they've had a pit full of VIPs like this?" 

"I believe the last time I saw that pit full of VIPs was a good nine years ago, Darrell. But despite all of the new bodies it seems like Roger Wheeler, The King's crew chief, is having just as much fun as the kids around him. He doesn’t look distracted at all!" Bob laughed, using the moment to turn away from the microphone and clear his throat. 

Roger Wheeler had one of the younger children in his arms and a gentle smile on his face. The young Asian boy Roger had in his arms had the main headset on over his ears and was talking into the microphone, clearly having a conversation with The King on the other side, which proved to be true when the camera flipped back to The King. 

The King had brought his waving hand up to his ear, listening to the young boy on the other side before nodding his head with a muted laugh. McQueen and Chick were both slightly in the background, with Chick simply rolling his eyes and McQueen looking on in slight envy. 

Eventually the camera panned away from the leaders and back to the other competitors as the fortieth and forty first placers passed the finish line. 

The camera followed them until they were about five feet past the finish line before wide viewing everyone who was already done. 

Most of the later competitors were still visibly laboring for air. They had their hands either on their head or were laying on the ground on their backs. It wasn't an uncommon sight, especially since almost everyone finished the obstacle course in nearly record time due to the leaders being so aggressive this year. 

And in another ten minutes, Bob was speaking up and calling off the places of the last stragglers. "And here come the final competitors, racing each other for the last few places. Cable, Yo-Yo, Reset, Arcane, Misty, and Nimble, the last of the fifty seven to pass and start the next phase, The Jump and Seize,” 

Darrell rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Oh boy, this is startin' to get good! And it’ll get even better after this short break. We’ll be right back with you, ladies and gentleman, so stay tuned because the rest of this night is only going to get more excitin'!” 

In Darrell’s peripheral, he could see a camera operator flash a three second countdown with his fingers before gesturing a thumbs up toward them. 

At the sign, Darrell took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, dropping his camera smile to relax his face. He allowed himself to slouch back against the chair he was in and opted to stare up at the ceiling instead of all the blinding LED’s. 

Bob had done a similar deflating, but instead of resting back within the chair, he went and laid himself across the front of the desk with his arms coddling his head as he hid his face from view. “Oh my God,” 

Darrell brought his hands up to his face and groaned into them. “Five minutes, do you think it's enough?” 

A muffled groan of solidarity came from his partner, who refused to lift his head up from the desk as he replied to the unspoken question Darrell had asked with ease. “To talk about the unprofessional slipup we had on International television? No, no it is not,” 

Darrell ran his hands down his face and sat up a little straighter in his chair, his eyes trailing across the room of camera operations, lights and sound controllers, and schedulers. 

Some were whispering very skillfully to each other while others who were closer to the front were looking at him with expressions of expectation, to which he didn't blame them. Bob and he had been working together for about fifteen years now, and even before then they were pretty successful independently in what they did, which was active superhero work for him and commentary on anything and everything for Bob. So not much managed to make them lose their consistent professionalism in front of the cameras. 

Until today when Mister Medvedev decided he wanted to try and ask them for camera footage that they couldn’t give him. And when they didn't give him an immediate answer he… threatened to find them? 

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Darrell watched one of the schedulers put up two fingers, then he went and nudged Bob with his hand. “Two minutes, sleepin' beauty,” 

Bob took in a deep breath of air and lifted his head up, swiping some of his hair back again so it sat neater. “Perfect, let's do this,” 

The two of them sat a little taller in their seats and made sure that they were visibly presentable. 

One of the schedulers went and held up a countdown starting at five. When the person got to zero, they went and pointed at the both of them and then held up another thumbs up sign to give them the clear. 

Darrell put on his best camera ready smile and drew in a breath of air before speaking. “Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, to the Quirk Tournament, where all fifty seven heroes here today are all lined up and gettin' ready for the second portion of the Placer Challenges,” 

“The Jump and Seize,” Bob picked up, offering his own professionally practiced smile for the camera. “Starting with the hero that placed last in the obstacle course and working its way back so the leaders are last, each competitor will use a single energy surge from their quirks to try and snag a specific colored flag at different heights. Officials with telekinesis or hovering quirks await on standby to insure a safe landing once each competitor has gone,” 

The camera panned back to the arena view, showing off the new area. There was now a clearing with very tall poles set in fixed locations. Each pole reached up toward the sky with an intimidating maximum height of fifty five meters, or approximately one hundred eighty point forty five feet when rounded to the nearest hundredth. 

At specific points on those poles were color coordinated flags that represented points with there being eleven different colored flags in total for a person to possibly grab once they reached the peak of their jump. The colors in ascending order were red, orange, yellow, light green, dark green, light blue, dark blue, violet, purple, indigo, and finally at the very top, a white and gold checkered one. 

The white and gold checkered flag was worth the most points and those points lessened going down. That was the flag everyone usually aimed for, but not many could snag. 

“The hero Nimble is the first to take a leap of faith up for the highest flag they can possibly go for,” Darrell began, watching as the cameras panned down and aimed at the hero in question. “The last hero to cross the finish line in the obstacle course, can he set the bar high for this eve nin'? We’re about to find out,” 

The crowd got quieter as Nimble stepped up to the platform and paused a moment for himself. Then in one impressive feat of motion and strength, crouched down and spring boarded up. 

Nimble sailed into the sky, his arms outstretched as he passed the red and orange flag with ease, then he began to slow as he neared the yellow flag. 

As his jump reached its peak, Nimble reached up and snagged the light green flag out of the air and began to descend. 

The crowd cheered loudly as the officials on standby made sure that Nimble had a slow descent down to the ground. 

Once Nimble landed, he smiled brightly in accomplishment and walked off to the side where some of the other heroes congratulated him on his free points and for setting the bar for the night. 

A bar that would get broken. 

Hero after hero leaped as high as they possibly could. Nimble had set a slightly above average bar to begin with and some managed to surpass that bar, while others fell short. And as each hero jumped, the points began to add up and reach higher totals, with some reaching into the thousands after they received their points. And the further down the line it went, the higher those points got. 

And it kept going like that for a good hour until it was the first of the three leaders to go. 

The VIP’s in each pit always cheered for their favorite competitors, however, the one that always seemed to have multiple signs catered to all of the opposing competition were the Dinoco VIPs. No matter who stepped up, at least seven or more of the VIP’s down in the Dinoco pit would be holding signs and merchandise that supported that jumper. 

And Thunderbird was no exception; saved for only having five of the VIP’s in the Dinoco pit holding merch up that said his sponsor’s name, Hostile Takeover Bank, instead of Thunderbird. 

“Up steps Thunderbird,” Bob announced. “His quirk, Thunderclap, is able to send shockwaves out into the surrounding area that can rebound around and deafen people who aren’t mindful of the force. We’re about to find out if Chick Hicks is able to set a new high bar standard for Lightning McQueen and The King to follow,” 

The roaring crowd goes slightly quieter as Chick steps up onto the same platform that all the others before him went onto to get ready to jump. Although the noise level is still pretty high, Chick didn't seem to hear them as he visibly put himself in the zone as a part of his preparation to jump as high as he could. 

There was a pause on Thunderbird’s end as Darrell and Bob remained silent. 

Then in one sudden motion, Thunderbird raised his hands up, crouched down and jumped. 

The loud and thundering boom that echoed out across the arena got the crowds all riled up again as Chick soared through the air like a dart. Surpassing the yellow flag with ease, followed by the greens and a little bit past the light blue before his jump peaked. 

Then in another swift motion, Chick went and swiped the dark blue flag out of the air and began to descend only to be caught a second later by Tournament officials with telekinetic quirks while the crowd continued to make noise. 

“And with one impressive high jump, Chick Hicks resets the high end bar for the night!” Darrell exclaimed. “Does the rookie and The King have what it takes to beat that?” 

Thunderbird laughed as he pointed in a vague direction of fans, waving the dark blue flag around in triumph. 

Once Thunderbird touched back down on the ground, he sauntered off the platform, giving off smirks to the other heroes that he surpassed and looking at the last two that needed to go still. But even with all the camera angles, it was clear he was looking at Lightning McQueen specifically. 

One of the cameras was even close enough with a microphone to pick up some of the ground level trash talk. 

“You see that, kid? That's what having a bite to your bark looks like!” Thunderbird called out, pointing at Lightning and laughing. “Just try and beat that!” 

Lightning’s face lowered into a simmering glower, his shoulders raised and his hands bunched up with visible tension as strands of electricity began to radiate off of him. He opened his mouth to say something right back, but The King put his hand on Lightning’s shoulder despite all the electricity that was beginning to become more prominent on him. 

The King leaned down and said something into Lightning’s ear that none of the microphones could quite pick up unfortunately, however, whatever The King had said it got Lightning to shut his mouth and simply shake The King’s hand off his shoulder and stalk off to the platform to take Chick’s place for his turn. 

The crowd got quieter again just like it had for everyone before him, except the sound significantly lessened much more than when Chick had come up to jump. 

A pan over to the Dinoco booth also showed that none of the VIP’s were holding anything LMQ related for merchandise. Something that Lightning McQueen himself also noticed on his way up to the platform with a quick side eye that all the cameras definitely caught. 

Lightning also took a moment to himself, bowing his head and taking a pause as Darrell, his partner, and the rest of the world held their breath. 

Then in a burst of light and a couple of crackling pops later, Lightning crouched down and jumped. His quirk propelled him easily past all the low hanging flags, past the green flags, past the light blue, surpassing the dark blue one and reaching up up up until he hit the peak of the jump. 

Then in one swift motion, just like everyone else, seized the flag that he could reach. 

The violet flag. 

One above Chick’s. 

Lightning descended quickly for a moment before being caught by the officials set in place. While in the air, Lightning held up the violet flag with one of the biggest and cockiest grins on his face, listening to the erupted cheering from the massive crowd scream his name. 

Once he touched down on the platform, he dropped the flag to the ground and skipped over toward Chick wearing one hell of a smug look. 

The microphone once again caught what was spoken. 

"You see? That's what they call, 'having a bite to your bark' Thunderbird," 

"Yeah yeah, whatever, kid. Hey, just so you know, jumping high doesn't make just anyone a superhero," Thunderbird threw back pathetically, looking visibly flustered at being one upped by the new rookie. His face was reddened with embarrassment and rage as some of the other heroes around him snickered at him or congratulated Lightning at his high jump. 

Darrell couldn't help but to laugh as he and the rest of the world watched Lightning bring his index finger up to his eye and tug the lower eyelid down, sticking out his tongue and making a snobbish face at the seasoned runner up before skipping away yet again, leaving Thunderbird behind him simmering away with rage. 

"Oh! The trash talk this year is on a whole nother level!" Darrell commented, laughing a little bit more as the camera remained on Chick before panning back to The King. 

The King had stepped up to the platform and this time, the crowd practically deadened in silence. Much more than when Chick had gone up, and way much more than when Lightning had gone up. 

The only bursts of sound that really stuck out came from call outs from the Dinoco pit. 

"Go Uncle Strip!" 

Some laughter rang out across the crowd as the cameras panned back over to the Dinoco pit, landing on all the young teens yet again. 

All of them were holding Dinoco and King merch now. Not a single one was left out in holding things that supported Strip Weathers. The younger kids were all being held by the older kids, all donning crowns and foam hands. Some of them had even begun to hold their hands up as high as they could reach as if giving blessings and good vibes toward The King. 

"Jump high, Mister The King! Jump high!" A young girl who was resting on Roger Wheeler's shoulders. 

"Take your crown, King!" Yelled a young teen with a gap in his two front teeth. 

"Show the others why you're named, The King, Mister Weathers!" Cal Weathers' friend, Bobby Swift hollered. 

"Let's go Mister The King!" Another young boy yelled. 

"Come on uncle Strip! You've got this!" 

The laughter continued and spread to the rambunctious kids in the pit as the cameras moved back to The King, who was struggling to bring himself back into a serious mood after hearing the VIP's from his pit yell out to him in the mostly silent arena. 

"It looks like Strip Weathers is struggling to stop laughing, Darrell," Bob pointed out despite his own face twisting up into a smile at the antics. 

"Well I would too, Bob!" Darrell replied, grinning brightly. "Those kids really are some of the most supportin' fans you're ever gonna find," 

Strip had at this point, covered his mouth with his fist, tucking his head away from one of the cameras the best he could as he continued to try to get ahold of himself. 

There was about a ten second pause as The King composed himself once more, his brown eyes glancing over to the Dinoco pit one last time before he closed them and took a moment to himself. 

The silence was heard throughout the arena and the commentary booth as everyone watched in anticipation. 

As the camera's re-angled themselves and panned a couple of times to different places around the arena, The King opened his eyes once more to reveal them both glowing fully blue and suddenly shot up into the air with terrifying speed, leaving a small shockwave of wind behind him in his wake that forced the other heroes to ground themselves suddenly or regain their balance. 

The King sped past the lower flags, surpassing the middle ones with ease and even the upper middle ones too. 

His arm reached up as his jump peaked and seized the flag that was available. 

The crowd went berserk as The King began to descend slowly from the height of his jump clutching the gold and white checkered flag in one hand. 

Darrell cheered out, not being able to help himself from jumping out of his chair from all the excitement that had just played out. “Boogity boogity boogity! The King snags the top flag! Throwing himself into the lead in the Placer Challenges!” 

Bob was laughing at his side, now leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands to poorly mask his breaking of character at the dumb catchphrase Darrell had blurted out once when he was just starting out as a commentator and never went back on. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look up the word 'champion' in your dictionary, there's gonna to be a picture of Strip ‘The King’ Weathers as the top picture in it! That's what you call a champion of the ages!” Darrell laughed enthusiastically, throwing his hands up into the air in his own celebration. 

Bob continued to crack up as the arena continued to rage on with its own cheering and sound. 

The cameras at ground level were fading back and forth between the heroes, the VIP’s, and different places of the crowd. 

The Dinoco pit was going crazy. The pit crew was cheering and whistling, some of the older teenagers were spinning each other around and hugging each other, while the rest jumped up and down and threw their hands in the air like they were celebrating the New Year's Eve countdown aftermath just after the ball had dropped. 

The other competitors were going up to The King and patting him on the shoulder or back and complimenting him on the high jump he just performed. 

Thunderbird of course was standing off to the side while everyone else congratulated the pro hero on an impressive feat of strength and precision. He had his arms crossed over his chest wearing an expression that looked less enthused mixed with a small amount of jealousy and envy. However it didn’t compare to Lightning’s look. 

McQueen wore a shocked face of envy that surpassed that of Thunderbird’s. He was slightly in the background of all the other heroes, looking on at The King. A glint of something lingered in the rookie’s eye that Darrell couldn’t quite decipher due to the camera moving on too quickly. 

Nevertheless, everything continued on as scheduled. 

Bob and he had another five minute ad break while the arena underwent another scene change to fit for the last event of the Placer Challenges, The Point Free For All. 

This final event was the event that allowed every competitor to show off more of the precision side of what they could do. Such as speed, aim, quirk power, and the quirks themselves. 

Each competitor was to destroy as many robots as they could in just three, fifteen minute increments for the most amount of points with ten minute rests in between each set. The bigger the robot, the less points they offered, but the smaller the robot the more points they offered. 

Therefore, the zero pointer robot, a robot that is rarely brought out anymore these days due to its massive size and ridiculous weapon systems, was the biggest. 

This third and final event really forced the heroes in the arena to hone their quirks in for as precise attacks as they could muster. 

All while he and Bob did their thing in the commentator booth. Calling off scores, keeping an eye out for all the cool action moves, and trying to predict which heroes would really thrive in this sort of chaotic environment and which ones would fall behind and reacting accordingly. 

And of course, their predictions about the three leaders remained on par just like before with The King coming in first, Lightning McQueen coming in second, and Thunderbird coming in third. 

~~~

“And with that, ladies and gentlemen, we wrap up the Placer Challenges night of the Quirk Tournament. My name is Bob Cutlass and with my partner, Darrell Cartrip, we're signing off for the night. Until next week, stay tuned as the Tournament begins to take off. Thank you and good night,” 

Once again, Darrell watched his peripherals as a scheduler counted down from three with their fingers before giving them the final thumbs up of the night. 

Once they were given the clear, Darrell let out a sigh and brought his hands up over his head to stretch himself out. 

“Okay,” Bob craned his neck all the way to one side then to the other, audibly popping the kinks out of his neck. “Now we can talk about it,” 

Darrell lowered his arms and stood up from his seat, twisting himself out and stretching a little bit more, groaning in relief at the release of tension in his lower back. “Finally,” 

Bob stood up as well, stepping out from behind the desk and moving so he was closer to Darrell. “So what are we going to do about it? Do we report it?” 

Darrell sucked in a deep breath of air, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it already was flagged under suspicion by our mediators, but it couldn’t hurt to go say it ourselves even if we heard it four hours ago,” 

“We couldn’t do anything about it four hours ago,” Bob ran a hand through his hair but nodded his head nevertheless. “But you’re right, let's go see if we can’t find one of the officials. They’ll be able to make a more unbiased decision,” 

Darrell couldn’t help but to give one of his more charming smiles at the shorter hero, gesturing to the exit. “Then by all means, ladies first,” 

The only reply Darrell got in return from Bob was a failed attempt at suppressing a smirk and an eyeroll before he turned and led the two of them out of the commentator’s booth and down the hall to the right to find any one of the officials to report their concerns to. 

"Why do you think Medvedev wanted the camera footage?" Darrell found himself asking as he followed Bob like a lost puppy for a second before moving up to walk at Bob's side. 

Bob shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine at this point. Unless we began to list a bunch of things that might not be true, we're pretty much in the dark," 

Darrell hummed in a tone of dissatisfaction. "I hate not knowin' motives," 

Bob chuckled lightly and glanced at him. "That's why you're not the detective, dear," 

"Hey!" Darrell protested lightly. "Who says I can't be a detective? 

Bob rolled his eyes and nudged him in the arm lightly. "Your attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder tells you you aren't a good detective," 

Darrell blew a raspberry; which was his own way of scoffing but not actually doing so. "I think you forgot that the word 'hyperactivity' exists in ADHD, dear," 

Bob raised an eyebrow up. "Okay then my dear Mister Observant, tell me this. When did you clasp your hand with mine?" 

Darrell buffered mentally as Bob led him around another right corner by the hand Darrell had apparently reached and took hold of during their conversation. "I-I… that's irrelevant, Bob, because you didn't let go," 

Bob laughed and shook his head, giving Darrell's hand a squeeze before bringing it up to his face and giving the back of it a kiss. A display of affection that never failed to make Darrell blush and was only reserved for when there were no cameras and nobody else around. 

And that in itself was a rare thing to have. 

They made a few more turns followed by some neverending straight hallways until they made another decisive right down a hallway that's lights weren't on due to no one walking down the hall for a certain amount of time. 

The two of them were alone in this hallway as they headed down to the main gathering lounge where the officials usually resided. 

Making the final left turn, Darrell planted his feet at Bob's side as Bob went and knocked on the lounge door. 

"Hello? Anyone in?" Bob called out. 

When nothing but deafening silence flooded the half lit half dark hallway, Bob tested the doorknob, giving it a few twists and turns before figuring out that it was unlocked and pushing in. 

Darrell let out a sigh and leaned against the wall just beside the door, opting to wait out in the hall while Bob went in and turned on the lights. "Sounds to me as if no one's home," 

Bob made a muffled hum from the other room. "They might still be out in the arena, finalizing some of the scores," He commented off handedly. 

Darrell craned his head to one side then to the other as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes trailed down the hall to the left absently, seeing nothing since they had just come from that way. "That's probably true. Do you think we should head out to the arena then?" 

"Hold on, there's another room, I'm gonna check that first," Bob announced, audibly walking further into the lounge. 

There was a pause on Bob's end, then Darrell heard a knock on another door and the twist of the doorknob. "Hello?" 

Darrell sighed, dropping his head and turning it down to the right, the way they hadn't come from. 

He expected to see nothing but the end of the unlit hallway that broke off in a T formation. 

He didn't. 

Suddenly removing himself from the wall so he was standing on his own, Darrell turned fully to the figure at the end of the unlit hallway. They dawned a blood maroon vest with a black collared shirt and black gloves on their hands, as well as a white mask with no lips and blacked out eyes. 

Darrell didn't recognize them, especially since the outfit they wore wasn’t anything any hero here would wear. And to rub even more salt in the wound, whoever this was, the motion sensor of the lights wasn't picking them up so they were shrouded in the dark. 

"Who are you?" Darrell called out, not being able to take his eyes off the person standing a good thirty feet away from him. 

A low bump followed by a yell from the other room automatically got him glancing in the direction of the sound, taking his attention away from the unknown person standing ahead of him. “Bob?” 

Before Darrell could even react, the figure was suddenly no longer thirty feet away from him, but now two feet away from him. 

The commentator felt the person grab him by the fabric of his trench coat and yank hard. Darrell felt his feet leave the floor as he was tossed like a doll further down the darkened hallway, his shoulder and arm making contact with the floor first this time before the rest of his body followed in a heep. 

Catching and correcting himself, Darrell pushed himself up into a crouch position only to look up and find the maroon suited figure once again standing over him like he were an ant under boot. 

The commentator's brown eyes widened in startelement at the speed at which this person moved as the maroon figure seized him once more and this time slammed his back against the adjacent wall. 

Darrell gasped as all the air in his lungs escaped him. As he struggled to refill his lungs with oxygen, he scrambled for any sort of purchase, which included his attackers balled up fists which he began to uselessly pry at to try and get the assailant to release him. 

The maroon attacker chuckled airly at him. "Is that all you got, Yankee?" He questioned in a smooth British accent. 

Darrell squirmed in the man's grip before a smirk crossed his lips. "Oh you shouldn't have asked that," 

A sudden rush of adrenaline flooded through his veins, calming his panicked mind into a dulled neutral state. He found that he was once again able to bring his head to a leveled state of composure for just long enough to think of a simple yet effective card cantrip that had always come in handy when attackers were too close for comfort. 

With a natural hand motion that just came to him after years of practicing it over and over again, Darrell simultaneously pushed a hand against his assailant and spoke in a clear voice. 

“Trudo!” 

A burst of power exited him and against his opponent in a harsh clash of magical matter onto physical, causing the maroon assailant to get propelled backward into the wall opposite of him. 

Now with more space to do bigger motions with his hands and arms, Darrell was quick to react once more in order to not let his attacker get another lucky shot at him. He waved his other hand and spoke again, this time aiming for a spell that was stronger than the first. 

“Levio!” 

The maroon attacker suddenly went tumbling down the hallway, rolling and rolling until they crashed into the wall down the light end of the hallway and creating some much needed distance. 

A crash came from the other room, followed by another yell. The sound alone got Darrell moving toward the official’s lounge. 

“Bob!” 

The lounge was more or less what Darrell had always remembered, except instead of being put together, it was all a mess and the lights were flickering just like in the hall. Chairs that were supposed to be at tables placed around the room were thrown about and sliced in half or in some other way destroyed. Furniture was overturned, different things were broken or chopped in half, and there were other visible signs of a clear struggle. 

Speaking of a struggle… 

A ways into the room on top of one of the tables was Bob. He was overtop of someone else, struggling with them to keep them pinned against the surface of the table while his other hand held a dagger. 

The person below him trying not to get stabbed wore a similar outfit to the maroon assailant from out in the hall, mask and all, except this time the suit was a very faded light blue, almost gray if the light didn't hit it properly. However, the person also had visible slashes in the fabric of the suit they were wearing, which made it obvious that Bob had been mostly holding his ground. 

The light blue attacker hadn't noticed him yet, but Bob had after a quick glance upward. 

"Darrell!" He called out. 

Darrell blinked once, only once, and Bob was suddenly kicked off the blue attacker and onto the floor closer to him after being flipped off the table suddenly. The dagger that had been in Bob's hand disappeared the moment he hit the floor. 

A summoned dagger then. 

The blue assailant was swiftly back on their feet and facing them both. 

Darrell moved both his arms back, feeling another surge of energy course through him as another spell card was used. "Defénno!" 

The flickering room suddenly became consistently lit with a bright white light source. A light source that spanned across a single plane along the room. A separating wall now stood between them and this blue assailant. 

Bob got back onto his feet, wincing as he recollected himself. "We have to go. That's not gonna hold him for long," 

Darrell frowned, glancing at his partner. "What are you talkin' about? That wall's pretty durable. The only thing I know that can break it in a couple of strikes is your summoned swords and he doesn't have none!" 

“Yeah about that,” Bob started, grabbing at Darrell’s arm with his hands. 

He was unfortunately not able to finish what he was saying due to a loud crack sounding out followed by the distinct sound of something shattering in half. 

Darrell’s eyes widened in horror as he watched the blue suited assailant bring his hand out and summon something to him then swing an all too familiar looking sword once more at his magical barrier. 

“What the hell?” Darrell blurted. “That looks like your sword! How’d he get it?” 

“When he jumped me he copied my quirk through touch!” Bob gave one harsh tug on his arm, tearing him toward the door. “Come on! We have to get out of here!” 

Darrell fell into step with his partner, the grip on his arm never once wavering as Bob led the both of them out into the hall and to the lit direction of it. 

“Look out!” Darrell yelled after looking back behind them, grabbing and yanking Bob’s arm in return to pull him to the side. 

The red assailant flew past, landing in a crouched position on the floor in front of them and ultimately cutting off their path to safety. 

Darrell tugged on Bob’s arm once again to back them up and hopefully move the other way, but the moment he turned around he found that the blue assailant had escaped from the barrier and was on the other side of them, brandishing an exact replica of one of Bob’s deadly swords. 

They were effectively trapped with no other choice but to try and fight their way out. 

Bob’s back bumped against his. He could feel his partner breathing heavily behind him the moment they made contact. 

“There's nowhere left to run,” The blue attacker stated smoothly, speaking in yet another British accent just like his red counterpart, holding up the sword and pointing it's tip at him. “Both of you put your hands where we can see them to surrender and we’ll let you walk away, for the most part, unharmed,” 

Darrell exhaled hard, gripping his hands into fists and bringing them up with spells ready to leave his mouth the moment the time was right. “And if we don't?” 

Behind him, Bob summoned two more daggers, one in each hand and brought them up in defense ready positions. There wasn’t enough room in this hallway for him to summon two swords without tearing up the wall, which is what the blue assailant must have missed. 

Then there was a gentle nudge on Darrell’s heel. 

Bob was ready to go. 

The red attacker was the person to answer his question, audibly cracking his knuckles. “If you’re wanting to do this the hard way, we’ll gladly accommodate,” 

“Oh good,” Darrell laughed lightly, giving a slight bend at his knees so he was ready to be more light footed. “Flexible opponents are always my favorite,” 

Then with another push motion from one of his hands, he spoke again. “Expellro!” 

A sharp blast wave, similar to his Trudo spell, got sent outward. But unlike Trudo, the Expellro spell was a lot stronger and it affected more of the surrounding area, not to mention he needed more of an arm shove range to perform it. 

The blue attacker was thrown back as Bob moved to attack the red suited person that Darrell couldn’t see unless he turned around. 

Had it been another hero he probably would have forced himself to multitask on the others’ behalf. 

But this was his partner. 

Bob was one of the best up close fighters he knew on a personal level. While not having undergone extensive quirk training of the sort or trained under high end personalized physical training, Bob was still very competent in his profession and quirk ability, but it wasn't that alone that made him stick out from the others. It was his ability to think effectively on the fly, and Bob was only a year younger than himself. 

It was noticeable that this younger generation of heroes couldn't really do that anymore. Maybe that's why Lightning was able to keep up with the likes of Thunderbird and- 

“The King,” Darrell muttered under his breath, his eyes going wider as the blue assailant landed in a crouched position before shooting back up and charging him. 

Darrell breathed in sharply, swinging one of his arms out to his side rapidly in a large parting motion. “Venula!” 

More energy surged through Darrell's arm, and expanding out from it was a single red branch that exploded out into many other branches that shot outward and slammed against the blue attacker, knocking them into the wall. 

After the strike, Darrell began to back up. "Bob! We gotta go!" 

"I know!" Bob replied. "Now duck!" 

On pure trust, instinct, and reaction time, Darrell dropped into a crouch position on the floor, lowering his head the furthest he could. 

He felt a small gust of air blow over him as something was thrown above his head. 

Turning his head up once he was sure it was safe, Darrell rose to his feet and began to back away from the freshly tossed red assailant who had landed in a crouch position in front of him near the other. 

Backing up a little bit more, it wasn't long until another hand captured his hand and tugged him further along. 

"Run!" 

Turning around, Darrell began to run at Bob's pace, forcing himself to breathe evenly once he was sure they didn't exactly have to fight with their attackers for the time being. 

They went around multiple corners, first going left for a hallway then making a right the moment the halls allowed them, then they weaved left and made yet again another right. 

With each turn they made, Darrell gripped onto Bob's hand a little bit tighter, glancing back behind them every time they made each turn. Except this last one he didn't see them pursuing like they had been. 

"Come on, just a little bit further till we get to the stairs!" 

Darrell turned his head forward again, his eyes scanning around until he spied the sign that signified the staircase that led to the lower levels. If they could reach it, then they could lock themselves within and then descend the twenty five stories that were in the way of them and ground level. 

Pushing himself to go faster and to keep up with Bob so he wouldn't slow him down, the stairs were just across a hallway that went in two different directions. 

They almost made it. 

They had gotten so close to the door that Darrell could have grabbed the handle of the door to yank it open, but he was suddenly thrown off balance and to the floor. 

Bob's grip disappeared. 

Yelping when he hit the floor, Darrell floundered for a second before he managed to push his face off the floor and recollect himself. 

Bob was struggling against the red assailant who had grown extra arms just to try and hold him in place. Bob was kicking at him with his feet and yelling and trying to get his arms free. 

After a second of struggling, Bob managed to tear one of his arms away from the red attacker and throw his free hand in his direction. And with one flash of a sharp sword later, Darrell flinched as a yell reached his ears, followed by Bob yelling once again. 

"Go, Darrell! Go!" 

Scrambling up for purchase, Darrell found himself mostly leaning against the side of the wall he was against, flailing for the door handle to the stairs as his eyes frantically tried to scan the scene that was going on in front of him and behind him at the same time. 

In front of him, Bob had just gotten out of the red assailant’s grasp and had a short katana in one hand, while behind him the blue assailant that had just gotten impaled with a knife had just tore the weapon out of his shoulder and was now kneeling on the floor trying to cover the open wound. 

“What about you?” Darrell called out weakly, trying to get his brain to stop running at a million miles an hour again like it had been when they had first gotten attacked. 

Bob swung his katana at the red attacker, forcing him to back away in order to not get sliced to ribbons. “Just go, Darrell! I’ll hold them off, but you have to get help!” 

Darrell twisted the handle downward, letting the door to the stairwell swing inward and granting him entry to it. 

The blue assailant hissed out a tone of pain before speaking up. “No. I think you want to stay with your partner , don’t you agree, Darrell? ” 

Darrell’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes looked away from the scene ahead and to the man behind. Suddenly his feet couldn’t move, he couldn’t even bring his brain to the thought of possibly leaving Bob here all alone to fight by himself. That would surely end in something bad happening to his partner! He couldn’t leave Bob. He had to go over and make sure Bob was safe at his side at all times-

“Darrell, please!” Bob shouted out, stressing his name just enough that Darrell was able to force his thoughts into actions. 

Darrell turned into the stairwell, and slammed the door shut behind him, listening to the loud bang of the door reverberate downwards in a shockwave of sound. After hesitating for only a second, he looked over the edge of the safety railing and down all twenty five stories down, then with one deep breath of air, threw himself over the railing through the middle. 

Pencil dropping feet first, Darrell stared down at the ever approaching ground floor before he held out his hands and spoke again. “Arresto Momentum!” 

By the fifteenth floor down, Darrell’s fall began to slow down, slowing further and further until his feet graced the bottom floor with a gentle pat of his shoes. 

Not that he stuck around to pat himself on the back for very long. Darrell brought his thoughts forward as he ran for the nearest exit out to the arena’s ground level to find help. 

He ran and he ran, moving as fast as he could despite the gross feeling that was beginning to grow in his chest for leaving Bob all by himself for a two on one. 

Bob had told him to get help. 

But he had to stay with him. 

Shaking his head, Darrell pushed his way through a door and came to a stop out on the arena floor as he searched for someone to possibly help him. 

There were people in large groups with heroes filtering in and out of them as interviews with reporters went on. Bodyguards were stationed everywhere and officials were buzzing around to get final scores for next week's set of challenges. 

That's when he spied one of the closer interview bubbles. 

"Mister The King!" 

The King had a couple of interviewers around him, as well as some of his younger VIP fans that were hanging around his legs and his crew chief in his general proximity. Strip had his blue Dinoco sponsor fire suit jacket draped over his shoulders with one hand resting in his pants pocket while the other held a young girl’s hand. 

Darrell ran up until he was behind a couple of the interviewers and camera people. Then he began to try and maneuver his way forward. "Mister The King! King!" 

Strip Weathers blinked and turned his head toward the commentator just like some of the camera men and the young VIP’s. He looked confused at first, but then that confusion disappeared and was replaced by a kind hearted smile that looked amused. “What brings you all the way down here, Darrell? Did you not have enough stuff from the interview before the Tournament started?” 

Darrell did his best to even out his breathing as he got closer to Strip, reaching out and placing a hand on the pro hero’s shoulder. He struggled to think of something to say for a second as the presence of cameras and other innocent civilians began to become very prominent. 

If there was one thing that Darrell learned from his time training to be a hero, that was to keep everyone calm and not say something that could cause unnecessary amounts of panic. 

Panic was chaos, and chaos took lives. 

His sudden appearance and ragged breathing put everyone in a confused state as he drew in one last calming breath before speaking in a lower voice. 

“Uh, n-no, we got enough from our first interview tonight, that’s not what uh… that’s not what I…” Darrell swallowed futility and exhaled sharply, trying to compose himself as Strip’s face lowered from carefree to a sense of alertness. 

“Darrell, is everythin’ alright?” Strip asked, fully turning to the panicked commentator in front of him and dropping the little girl’s hand in exchange to place it on Darrell’s opposite shoulder. “Breathe buddy, what’s goin’ on?” 

The four young kids that were hanging around Strip’s legs were all looking at him now with tilted heads. They were all looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what was wrong, but he just couldn’t. 

He had to get back to Bob. He shouldn’t have left him all alone to fight those two suited men. 

“I… I need… Y-You to come with me jus-just for a moment,” 

Strip’s expression evolved into a mix of concern and alarm. “What’s happened, Darrell?” 

Darrell couldn’t get the words off his tongue. They just remained stuck on the tip of his tongue, trapped and choking him simultaneously. This was taking too long, he had to get back to Bob. 

Before he could get himself to say anymore words, something else captured everyone else’s attention. 

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

Darrell could feel a pool of dread open deep within his gut as his eyes flicked to a newly forming large ameba bubble of press and news casters. 

In the middle of the bubble was Lightning McQueen, Cal Weathers, and Bobby Swift. There were cameras everywhere, and even some of the Dinoco and Rust-Eze VIP’s were watching this public conflict go down. 

Lightning was facing toward the other two young men and was stepping closer to them again, appearing to have gotten shoved back. He had his arms thrown out to his sides in an aggressively dismissive manner and his face read anger just like Bobby’s. 

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem? Did you forget that we’re friends or something?” Lightning shot back. 

Cal was standing behind Bobby as he spoke up to voice himself. “Lightning, your agent isn’t allowing Dinoco to purchase any of your merchandise! If he lifted the restriction then we might have had your merch in the Dinoco pit but it wasn’t,” 

“Oh shove a sock in it, Cal,” Lightning snapped. 

That prompted Bobby to take one large step forward and crowd Lightning’s personal space. “Hey! What the hell happened to us being your friends, huh, hot shot?” 

“Friends? My friends don’t cheer for my opponents and then completely ignore me,” Lightning retaliated, puffing himself bigger so he was chest to chest with Bobby. “Nor do they hang out with other people without telling me,” 

“Guys, for the love of God, let’s not make this a bigger scene than it already is!” Cal protested, earning a sharp shush from Bobby. 

“Cal, just let me handle this,” Bobby huffed, waving his hand back at Cal dismissively. 

“Yeah, like how you handle your over texting, Bobby?” Lightning jabbed back, drawing a dirty look from Bobby. 

Bobby pointed an accusing finger at Lightning. “Hey! I was trying to initiate conversations with you, but all I got from you were bullshit responses and excuses!” 

Darrell continued to watch the argument play out confused and distressed, then his eyes returned back to Strip. 

To his horror, Strip was now turned to the bigger circle of press and spectators as he took his other hand out of his pants pocket. “I’m so sorry, Darrell, I need to…” 

He started to move away as Lightning and Bobby’s voices increased in volume while Cal’s got drowned out by them. They were accusing each other of things, throwing blame back and forth while getting nowhere. 

Darrell’s heart lurched and he almost choked on his saliva. “No wait, Mister The King-” 

“I won’t be a moment, Darrell,” Strip said, turning back to look at him for a split second to offer him an apologetic smile. 

“No no no, please, Mister The King I ne-need your help with something,” Darrell pleaded, taking a single step forward before he felt himself freeze in place. 

Strip kept backing away. “Stay right there, I’ll be right back, I promise. I just gotta deal with this real fast,” 

The man began to disappear, turning fully away from Darrell and moving with more meaning when Lightning shoved Bobby after Bobby mentioned a girl who Lightning apparently didn’t recognize. 

“Listen man, I don’t give one fuck about you or whatever random little fucking girl you keep talking about! I don’t know her and I don’t give a shit if she exists or not!” Lightning hissed out, spitting out the words from his mouth like they were venomous. 

Bobby yelled out. 

Darrell couldn’t get himself to go after The King. The most he found himself able to was weakly reach out his hand toward Bob and his' only savior that was in near proximity. "Wait! Mister The King!" 

Strip Weathers completely disappeared into the sea of reporters and spectators after screams rang out from the gathered crowd and people began backing away. 

Cal screamed. 

"King? King!" Darrell called out, letting out a sound of distress at trying to speak over the crowd that had grown a lot louder. " Strip! " 

Some people looked back at him for only a moment before looking away. 

The history between him and Strip Weathers wasn't very extensive by any means. Yes, they competed against each other in the Quirk Tournament back when Strip was much newer on the scene and in that time they became pretty close friends, usually pranking other competitors with Mario, Dale, and Junior when the time was right or having a good time at whatever bar was available at the time. But even in his professional career, Darrell tried not to ask for favors because of that previous connection. Not just because the situation in itself was a lot of give and receive in one direction, but also because it was a tremendously unfair advantage. So interviews were kept to ten at max throughout the season. 

Calling out to The King by his first name felt wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to speak more words than he could manage. Not right now at least. 

The ameba bubble exploded into more sound, spectators screamed, Bobby and Lightning were both on the ground, Cal was yelling at them to stop, but Darrell couldn't process anything that was being shouted out over the voice of that damn blue assailant that was still ringing in his ears. 

"Stay with your partner, Darrell. You want to stay with him, don't you?" 

His body began to feel heavy, moving on its own as Darrell choked down another sound of distress. 

The tone of Strip’s voice reached his ears, but Darrell couldn’t make any of it out. 

Having lost the battle in his mind, Darrell turned and ran back to the building. 

Back to Bob. 

He couldn’t remember how he got back to the twenty fifth floor, nor did he know the amount of time that it took him to get back to where he last left Bob, but when he did get there, all his brain could think about was getting back to his partner. 

He continued to run, looking down each tee'd off intersection that the hallways took before heading in one direction without cause. 

"Bob? Bob!" Darrell called out, coming to a halt at a final tee intersection in the hallway which signified the edge of the building. “Bob! Where are you?” 

The sound of his own heart beat and the rushing blood in his veins deafened him, until a distant, but crystal clear cry of pain reached him, originating from the right. 

Bob. 

Turning on his heel, Darrell bolted right, running as fast as his legs could carry him. His heart was pounding in the rhythm of sixteen notes way ahead of what could have been considered normal, but it was disregarded in his mind; the only thing that mattered was being at Bob's side. 

“Bob!” Darrell yelled again, coming to a stop when his shoulder slammed into a wall when the hall veered left. 

His vision began to go blurry as he squinted his eyes down the hallway, trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real or not.

He shook his head, bringing a hand up to it as he tried to ground himself. 

But he couldn’t. 

He felt his body fall and hit the floor beneath him, the sound of his breathing deafening him to all other exterior sounds and noises. 

His vision shook some more as three figures began to approach him. Someone was suddenly pushed against him, causing him to slowly look up at the person to the best of his abilities. 

Bob was on his knees hunched over beside him. He was cradling one of his arms close to his midsection, using the other to tug it closer to his waist, and he was breathing erratically, sniffling audibly only to choke and go quiet for a moment. 

Darrell shook his head and pushed himself up onto his knees as well, reaching with his arms and carefully bubbling his partner within them without actually placing a hand on him before he could properly assess the damage. 

There was blood running down Bob's mouth from his nose which was causing tears to roll down from his eyes, which explained the labored breathing and sniffling. His cradled arm was also explained by a broken arm right at the elbow joint and a possible shoulder dislocation. 

The attackers approached, the blue wielding one of Bob’s copied swords and the red keeping all of their newly formed arms available to grab, attack, or defend, until they practically loomed over the two of them. 

Darrell brought his gaze up to the red and blue assailants, trying to blink away the weary cloud that was hanging over his head. “Who… Who are you?” 

“Oh it's far too late for you to be asking questions now,” The red attacker hissed. “You had your chance to surrender to us, so from now on, we’ll be doing the talking and you’ll be keeping your mouths shut unless you’re spoken to,” 

Bob shuttered next to him, sucking in a sharp breath of air and choking momentarily on all the blood that most likely ran down his throat. “And… if we resist?” 

“Then we’ll be finding out just how many more places that arm of yours can break in,” 

Darrell tensed, bringing his hand up and wiping some of the fresh tears that had fallen out of his partner’s eyes. 

The blue attacker went and swatted their free hand at the red attacker. “Stick to the mission at hand, Turbo. We aren’t here to torture, we’re here to get in and out,” 

“It's too late for that now, Sev,” The red attacker, Turbo retorted. “We have two witnesses now, so we’re either going to have to extract what they know or make sure they don't go spilling what they’ve seen,” 

“Please,” Darrell strained, trying to get himself to stop shaking enough. “We won't resist, we won't try anything smart. Just please… l-let me… my partner, I need to help my partner,” 

Turbo and Sev faced each other for a second, which looked like a stare down between the two masked individuals. 

Darrell inhaled a ragged breath of air into his lungs. “Please,” 

Sev turned his head back to him. “Three minutes,” 

Darrell swallowed, nodded, then quickly turned his attention to his partner, shaking one of his hands until a medium sized towel materialized in it. The action was similar to how a magician would pull out a bunch of colorful silk clothes out of his sleeve to impress young children, except this was real mystical magic that he could use as he needed. 

And what he needed was to put Bob’s broken arm in a sling and possibly set the shoulder back in place. 

He exhaled shakily. “Your arm?” 

Bob trembled where he knelt, he kept his head bowed as blood dripped down from his nose and seeped into the fabric of his pants. “The break… i-it's at the e-elbow… m-my shoulder too,” 

“Alright, hold on, hold on. Are you able to lift your head?” 

Bob slowly but surely managed to lift his upper body, his face contorting in pain with the effort. 

Darrell set the medium sized towel down on his lap before wrapping one arm around his partner and bringing the other to just rest in front of the out of place shoulder. 

"This is gonna hurt," He warned. 

Bob sucked in a sharp breath of air between his teeth. "Do it," 

Darrel eyed his partner for a moment, then he did as Bob asked and shoved hard against the other’s shoulder, applying pressure to Bob’s back to keep him still and using his other arm to move the shoulder back into place. 

He internally cringed when Bob cried out in pain and threw his head back. 

Darrell stopped and remained where he was as his partner withered in pain, gasping and choking on air as his body jerked out of reflex. 

When Bob stilled, Darrell looked down at his arm. "One more time, you're doin' great, doll. Just one more time, then it'll be done," He whispered into his ear. 

His partner gasped for air, whimpering when Darrell hovered his hands over his broken arm to get ready to reset it. More tears ran down his face, but he squeezed his eyes shut and slowly filled his lungs up with air to prepare himself. 

Darrell waited for Bob to relax somewhat more, then he carefully grasped Bob’s broken arm. “Okay, okay, ready?” 

Bob nodded his head curtly. “Go,” 

Darrell took in his own silent breath of air and shut his eyes. Then he gave one singular tug to his partner’s arm. 

He listened to the bones in his partner’s arm crack, he listened to Bob strangle a pained cry in the back of his throat. 

“It’s done, it’s done,” Darrell whispered gently, grabbing the towel he had conjured up and carefully encasing his partner’s reset arm in the body of it bringing each end together back behind Bob’s neck to secure it in place. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you,” 

“Your three minutes are up,” Turbo finally said, causing Darrell to turn his head back toward him. “Now you’re going to do exactly what we tell you to do, or you’ll both be in a much greater world of hurt,” 

Darrell held his partner close as he did his best to seem unintimidated, but he wasn’t sure it was very effective. All he could do was hope that whatever these two intruders wanted wasn’t going to put too much strain on them. 

~~~

“Darrell,” 

The commentator could hardly get himself to move, much less open his eyes to figure out who was talking to him. 

“Darrell, can you hear me?” 

A gentle hand placed itself on the small of his back, giving him a slight shake. The fingers were long, the hand much larger than he expected, but they held no malice like the others. A pained groan escaped him as he forced himself to grip his hands into fists to test what he could or could not move. 

“Mgh… B-Bob?” 

“Not quite, bud, it’s Strip,” The voice- Strip- replied, audibly shifting before settling once more. “Can you move at all?” 

Darrell groaned again in protest, managing to numbly grip his other hand into a fist. “Look me in the eye an’ ask me that again, I dare you,” 

Strip hummed a half assed acknowledgement. “Good to know that you still got your humor, Darrell. Now hold on, I’m gonna roll you over and check you for any injuries,” 

Darrell took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as Strip gently pushed him over onto his back. He could hardly feel any of his limbs, like they had all fallen asleep after losing blood circulation, except the feeling was everywhere. 

Eventually he managed to open his eyes and catch sight of Strip hovering over him and checking him over for wounds. 

He wasn’t in the hallway anymore but instead a room that was completely dark, saved for the light that was leaking in from the hallway. He could hear voices from outside of the room, but he couldn’t pick someone out from where he was, but what he could hear was the hums and buzzes of electric equipment. 

“Wh-Where… is Bob?” Darrell questioned, straining his eyes to look at Strip since he couldn’t move his head because his neck was so damn stiff. 

Strip continued his inspection before he reached up and tilted Darrell’s head to the side toward him. “Bob’s safe, Mario took him to the hospital wing to be stabilized by the medics there. The arm in the sling wasn’t lookin’ too good by the time we found you guys,” 

There was another pause on Strip’s end before he gently realigned Darrell’s neck so it wasn’t turned. “You’ve got a puncture wound on the side of your neck. Looks like you were drugged, but you must not have gotten as large a dose as Bob for you to be conscious now,” 

Darrell swallowed awkwardly, trying to keep himself from falling into a panicked state at the mention of Bob’s broken arm. He shivered at the memory of the bones being snapped back into place and the cries of agony his partner let out due to the pain. “They… h-he told me to run to get help, but all I did was return to him with no one backing me up,” 

The King must have sensed his distress because he changed the topic. “You can tell me more about what you remember after I get you out of here and to the hospital wing. Once you’re feelin’ better we’ll continue this conversation from there,” 

Darrell winced when Strip picked him up in a bridal carry, unable to prevent his head from lolling to the side to rest against Strip’s chest due to the numbness in his neck he hadn’t felt until now. “What time is it? Shouldn’t you be restin’?” 

Strip rose to his feet, carefully adjusting his hold until he had a proper hold on his ally. “It’s currently two in the mornin’, but sleep didn’t come easy when nobody could find you or Bob. The guards never saw you return to your room,” 

Darrell huffed out a weak laugh as his eyelids drooped downward, threatening to shut as Strip carried him out of the room and into the bright hallway. “Now what would Big E say about you stayin’ up super late after competing in the Tournament?” 

Strip chuckled lightly, walking with a steady stride so he wouldn’t jostle the injured hero in his arms. “Why, I reckon he’d kick my ass himself if he were here,” 

If The King said anything else, Darrell didn’t hear or remember it as the well lit hallway went just as dark as the room he was just in.