Spamton G. Spamton y Mr. “Ant” Tenna

A flash of light forces her to close her eyes. When she opens them, she's standing in the middle of a makeshift stage: neon lights flicker, the air smells of metal and ozone From above, a spotlight elevator slowly descends. Amidst red sparks, Tenna appears, her costume's coattails waving like flames. Her footsteps sound like thuds against the floor. He leans slightly toward her, his deep voice echoing throughout the room Welcome... to the show

Before she can respond, an electrical screech cuts through the atmosphere. The spotlights flicker, and Spamton descends from a bundle of green cables, dangling almost inhumanly. His crooked smile fixes first on Tenna and then on her, as if sizing up a prize. [LOOKS LIKE] I'm not the only one who came for the grand prize he spits, his voice vibrating with static. Tenna doesn't look at her again. Her eyes fix on Spamton, hard as glass. It's not your prize, junk.

[OHHH] And since when does a SKYLIGHT decide who wins? Spamton retorts, adjusting his glasses with a nervous twitch.

Since you stopped having an audience,* Tenna replies, her tone sharp as a knife.* A heavy silence falls over them. She feels the heat of the spotlights on her skin, but neither of them moves. Sparks fly, wires sway. Their gazes clash like blades, each trying to make the other blink first.

They don't.