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lumilasi · 6 years ago

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So...since Helias isn’t an apprentice character, and this random ship became more of a thing somehow, I figured I should write out the story of how they met and such a bit. Canon-storyline speaking, it’s gonna follow Asra’s route basically, as my friend’s Apprentice Lina appears in these and she’s mainly paired with Asra.

This was the hardest thing for me to write since ever, and you’ll learn why at the end as I’ll explain a bit more there.

Part 2: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/175782057246/second-short-story-snippet-for-this-au-thingy-or

Part 3: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/176583500291/part-3-of-the-ocsvesuvia-crossover-series

For now, hope you enjoy it:

The bar was buzzing as usual, perhaps even more so due to what was happening in the palace; some sort of visitor from another Kingdom or so. Julian wasn’t too sure about it, for he’d been rather preoccupied with his own thoughts when his sister had informed him of it, telling him to stay away from the palace grounds for now, given the security has been tightened due to this visit.

Downing his third (or fourth?) drink, Julian glances around, but saw no familiar faces ready to drag him out of the pub. It made sense, for Pasha was likely busy preparing for the guests, and Lina had agreed to help her.

It was such an unusual event; Vesuvia rarely had visitors of this caliber, at least the brunet had heard the term “Emperor” and “Empress” being thrown around. Someone had even spoken of some sort of magic, like there was something unusual of these rulers or so.

Julian couldn’t help himself; he’d been curious and gone against his sister’s advice, almost getting caught by the guards as a result, never catching even a glimpse about their mystery visitors.

He’d only narrowly escaped them by hiding in a barrel, then eventually dragging himself into the Rowdy Raven, smelling like whatever stinky substance had been in said barrel. The bartender was used to seeing him show up in such a state, so he’d said nothing, just helped him to tidy up and get him a drink.

“You oughta listen to others more; you’ll get killed at this rate.” The barista tells him with a scolding tone, and Julian shrugs, taking a long gulp from his drink.

“What can I say? With all the rumors going around I was curious.”

“Ever heard of the saying “curiosity killed the cat” boy?”

“Ah yes, but did the proverb not continue with “satisfaction brought it back?” Julian fires back with a cheeky smile and the bartender sighs, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

“You’re one troublesome young man, let me tell you.”

“Yes I get that a lot; always on the run, aren’t I?”

Julian lets out a laugh, taking another large gulp from his liquor. Suddenly, a presence appears nearby him and slips down to sit beside the brunet, and a soft, borderline musical voice – at least in Julian’s drunken mind – joins in on the conversation with an amused chuckle following it.

“My, it seems we have something in common.”

Julian lowers his drink to take a look at the person who’d sat down beside him, and his heart freezes for a second, before it starts beating faster. The stranger sitting beside him was easily amongst the most beautiful beings he’d ever seen, and it seemed several bar goers agreed, as few other heads had turned their way too. The bartender did not seem affected, though he was one of those people who’d seen a lot of things come and go in his bar, so an ethereal, pale skinned beauty was likely nothing new.

Although, now than Julian took a closer look, he noted the paleness did not look quite natural; almost if the stranger had gotten ill at some point, and was still recovering from it, thus his – at least based on the voice they were likely a male – skin tone was still a bit sickly pale.

“I hope you do not mind if I sit here?” The stranger chuckles and brushes through his hair, looking directly at Julian, who struggles for a moment to find his voice.

“Oh, not at all; I wouldn’t mind some company, especially from someone as stunning as you, my dear.” He brings his trademark smirk on his face, gesturing to the chair the newcomer was already sitting on. Then, he turns on the bartender and requests him to bring another drink – both for him and the mysterious person beside him.

“Ah, you’re offering me a drink too? How generous of you.” The stranger chuckles, and Julian shrugs at that. “Felt it would only be polite, given you seem to be new around here my dear.”

He then offers his hand in his usual dramatic fashion, and the pale visitor slips his delicate one onto his grip, allowing Julian to kiss it in a greeting.

“It is a pleasure to meet a new face around these places, even if I do wonder why such a being of grace would bother with these parts of the city.”

It was rather obvious that whoever they were, this white haired stranger was used to such gestures. In fact, his overall appearance spoke of a higher class than most patrons in Rowdy Raven. The smooth, silky white hair that looked well-kept, the high quality looking cloak he wore. Even the stranger’s mannerism reminded him of the Countess somewhat.

It indeed was bizarre as to why someone like him would be around here. Lots if folk in this tavern tended to be hiding, or on the run, but somehow, Julian questioned if this was the case with his companion.

The stranger chuckles as he brings his hand back, sipping the drink the bartender had brought him. It was noticeably in a cleaner glass than majority of the drinks given around there, and had a sweeter scent, indicating it wasn’t as strong as the Salty Bitter Julian had.

“Oh, I like to wander around when I visit new pastures. My curiosity is endless after all.”

The auburn haired male hums; so his thoughts were on to something. In all likeness they were not running from anyone or anything, though one could not be too sure. For all he knew, his companion could simply be lying, hiding his true motives behind the veil of lies like most folk around here did.

“Still, these areas are rather rowdy as the name of this tavern suggests; I’d be more careful about where my feet take me.” The brunet holds up a scolding finger, waving it like one would to a misbehaving child.

The stranger laughs a bit at that, giving him a coy smile that had the Julian’s heart skipping a beat. It reminded him of Asra a tiny bit, though it had a more light-hearted tone to it, like his companion was not doing it to purposefully bother him, but just acted slightly flirty naturally.

”You’d be surprised how many times I hear that warning; trust me despite my appearance, I am perfectly capable of handling myself” the stranger tells him with a wink, making Julian second-guess his initial impression of the seemingly delicate being beside him.

”Ah, should I perhaps be worried for my safety, then?” Julian asks jestingly, though keeps a close eye on the person beside him, who was sipping his drink now. He did not seem particularly bothered by the taste, but the same time drank much slower than normal patrons would, though it may have been a question of one’s personal manners than their like or dislike for the drink in question.

“That is rather amusing, coming from you, given what I heard from your dear sister, Doctor.”

His eye widens in surprise, and Julian tenses visibly, examining his companion more closely. He tries to keep up the facade of calm friendliness however, even if his heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Ah, Whatever sister you may be speaking of? You may have mistaken me for someone else I’m afraid my dear.”

The green eyes flashed with amusement, and Julian shifts nervously, feeling that the stranger was calling his bluff. Who was this person exactly, and what did he want from him?

“Red hair held high up, strong-willed, rather short, referred to as Portia. Are you certain you do not know of her, Doctor?”

Julian feels a cold sweat travel down his spine; his companion did not seem dangerous by any means, but the fact he seemed to know who he was, it was alarming. How would he know about Pasha in the first place? How did they know they were related?

As if sensing his plight, the pale figure hums and offers him a softer smile.

“No need to be alarmed, Doctor. I am merely here to see the famed man myself, for your sister spoke quite a bit about you.”

His words sounded genuine enough, but one could never be too sure. Pasha would not talk about him to any stranger she met, so how had this stranger gotten this information?

Nervous, Julian takes a gulp from his drink, wondering if he should sprint or not. There were no guards nearby, and his raven had not come to warn him, but one could never be too certain in this day and age.

“Your sister mentioned you in a discussion with the mage apprentice I happened to overhear, and so I became curious. She mentioned this place in her, shall I say passionately displeased speech, and once I saw you here, I couldn’t help myself but to take a closer look.”

The stranger adds all of a sudden, leaning against his palm.

Ah, that explained his strange knowledge of this, but it didn’t do much to ease his racing heart. The fact this person was purely there to see him....well it could mean multitude of things.

”Well, in that case, now that you’ve found me, may I inquire what is it that you plan to do? I might make myself scarce depending on the answer.” He informs his pale companion with an outward grin, inwardly mapping out his escape route already just in case.

It’d be a shame really, he’d never seen anyone like this before, but, well, beggars cannot be choosers.

”Well, right now my plan is to enjoy my drink, and it would be unfortunate if you decided to leave so suddenly, given you even offered this for me.” He nods the glass towards Julian, who recalls that yes, he had in fact offered to pay for that one. Perhaps he’d indeed drank too much.

”Yes, that would be rather rude of me, but I quite dislike the decor of the palace dungeons, I’d rather not go there.” Julian shrugs, brushing trough his hair with a smirk.

”Would be a waste of my good looks and skill to be stuck in there. I’ve also heard hanging is quite unpleasant.”

”I didn’t take you for a necromancer, Doctor.” His companion chuckles, genuine amusement in his tone. Heavens it was a nice sound, but he really could not sit around if this stranger was intending to trick him into an arrest, or was stalling him for the guards.

Suddenly, a pale hand reaches for his, delicate fingers gently grasping his free gloved hand resting on the table. He couldn’t really feel the touch and almost felt miffed about it, though he was also alarmed by the sudden physical contact.

”Really, calm yourself. I am not here to arrest you, or help someone do so. I am purely here out of my own curiosity as I stated.” His tone was gentle, and the green eyes were locked with his, almost a melancholic smile dancing on the pale lips now.

”I don’t blame you for being wary, any man or woman would in your situation. I suppose me bringing up your sister may have been a bit too straightforward, so I must apologize for that. I can be a bit...let’s say I may have hard time with certain social cues at times.”

For a moment Julian just sort of gazes at the hand lightly resting on top of his, noting the strange, undeniably magical glow emitting from the blue markings on it. As he looks up, the green eyes were examining him again, as if gouging out his reaction, seeing whenever he believed his words or not.

”I find it rather...difficult to believe one would be comfortable sitting in the same table with a wanted murderer.” Julian points out with an expressive lift eyebrow, testing the waters. His companion wasn’t phased one bit, rather just examined him like he was the most intriguing thing they’d seen in a while.

”I find it difficult to believe you are one. I don’t sense a shred of malice from you, only slight unease which I must assume is my doing, and I apologize for that again.”

The brunet was taken aback by those words, the sincerity shining trough from the apologetic voice. Sure, he had his own doubts about his guilt, but the only other people who’d ever questioned it -as far as he knew - were Lina and Pasha. Having a complete stranger agree with them, it was something to think about.

Julian glances around and notes that his raven was still nesting on the usual spot, watcing them but clearly relaxed. Surely it would have made a noise already if he was in any danger, so the doctor relaxes slowly, dread replaced by slight curiosity.

“Ah, but I believe you haven’t given me your name yet, my dear? I’d be curious to learn what it is, for I don’t often meet people like you.”

The green eyes examine him quietly for a long time, an amused glint hidden beneath the serene look. Whoever Julian was speaking with, they could not be human, he was certain of it. No human held such radiance, although the Countess came very close.

No average human had glowing marks in their body either. If they did, it usually meant something. Bad, in his case.

“Helias. My name is Helias.”

Helias? That name sounded familiar, but the brunet could not quite recall where he’d heard it before.

“Well then Helias; was it only your curiosity about me that attracted you to this humble tavern, or was there another reason for this little adventure?” Julian questions him, gesturing around the dimly lit pub and its inhabitants.

He still needed to make sure.

Helias brushes his hair, every single movement he made somehow fluid, like he was made of liquid instead of solid flesh and bone. It was enticing to look at, even if a bit unnerving as it spoke of magic of some sort.

”The palace is...lovely but quite boring eventually. I needed to get out to see what else Vesuvia has to offer, and by chance came upon this tavern I overheard dear Portia mention, and decided to see if you were here out of curiosity.”

Helias explains with a slight shrug, brushing trough his hair with a sigh, gazing aside for a moment.

”My sister wouldn’t allow me to go on my own in these parts, so I slipped out in secret, I do not need my guardians breathing on my neck constantly.”

The clear displeasure in his voice indicated this was a common issue, and Julian couldn’t stop but lift an eyebrow at the mention of guardians. So Helias had to be of someone higher status.

”I suppose I must thank you for choosing coming here by yourself; I am not fond of any sort of guards.” Julian remarks with a grin, and Helias actually laughs at that, though his voice still remained quiet, as if to not attract any more attention to them than what his unusual appearance likely already did.

”Still, I am rather curious on why exactly you seem to attract so much trouble, at least based on Portia’s description of you. Any other person would likely keep hiding when they were accused of a crime, yet you keep lingering about, almost getting caught if anything what I heard is true.”

Helias questions him all of a sudden with a clear curiosity coloring his voice, taking another sip from his drink, keeping the green eyes trained onto the slightly flustered brunet. He swallows his nervousness down quickly however

”Oh, Drama is my passion so to say; it follows me wherever I go. You could almost say I am married to trouble itself.” Julian declares, gaining another amused chuckle from his companion. It was not malicious by any means, but rather it was clear Helias found his dramatics entertaining, which had been his aim really. He loved to entertain people after all. Flashing him his trademark grin, Julian lifts his mug higher as if to toast for something.

”Life would be boring without any sort of hardships, hence I’ve accepted my fate that the world has given me.”

”Your sister may have referred to this ’fate’ of yours as ’tendency to be overdramatic and look for trouble on purpose’ as she put it. ” Helias comments amused, tilting his head as he examined the Doctor’s face, who’d faltered a bit upon the mention of his sister again. He really didn’t mean to worry her so much, it just sort of happened.

He was also a bit concerned that somebody had been able to eavesdrop into her conversation so easily. Pasha if anyone should know the Palace had ears everywhere.

”No need to look so mortified doctor; I am fairly certain the only unnoticed presence nearby those two was me, and I can be difficult to spot if I choose so.” The pale figure chuckles upon noticing the concerned change in his expression, and winks at Julian, who coughs and attempts to hide his flustered expression again behind his mug.

Was he really that easy to read? Or did Helias use some sort of magic to read his thoughts?

”Are you feeling well? You seem a little uneasy. Perhaps the Doctor needs a doctor.”

Julian coughs and straightens himself, bringing that usual grin back on his face, though it was hard to not blush when he looked back at Helias, whose green eyes examined him with a playful look in them.

”Oh I am perfectly capable of handling myself, do not worry about me my dear.”

He dismisses the concern with a wave of his hand, noting that his mug was now empty. His head was buzzing rather lot already, but Julian figured he could still have at least one more.

”Tell me, how did you come to meet my beloved sister, Helias? Did you see her in the palace or just run into her on the streets? How were you able to deduce that I...well, that I’m the one she spoke of.” Julian asks while the bartender fills his mug again, glancing at his companion nervously.

That was the one question Helias hadn’t exactly answered yet.

How he’d been able to tell who he was? The brunet sincerely doubted Pasha would have babbled out his appearance during a rant of hers.

”In the palace. She was bringing us tea alongside the mage apprentice. As for your second question...” Helias flashes him a slight amused smile and leans his head against his palm.

”You and your sister have highly similar auras. All siblings tend to have. I have the ability to sense them, like most beings familiar with magic.”

Ahh, so, magic. He was half expecting that answer. Julian lets out a slow sigh, knowing asking more detail on that would just confuse him; he did not understand magic very well after all.

”To be fair, I heard her rant on the streets I was wandering; apparently her and the apprentice are looking for you.”

Julian almost spats his drink, then glances around, half expecting to see a very angry and concerned Pasha storming his way. So she must've heard of his venture into the palace and how he’d escaped narrowly.

”I cannot say I blame her for worrying; crashing trough that window must’ve hurt quite a bit.” Helias comments with amusement coloring his voice, and Julian looks up at him surprised.

”You...saw me escaping?”

Helias lets out another, quiet laugh, and the smile aimed at him was so filled with strangely fond amusement that the brunet couldn’t help the blush spreading on his face. He had not seen anyone looking at him like that in ages, aside from his sister.

”I did. Granted I only caught a glimpse, a patch of your auburn hair, but I must say you left quite an impression.”

”Well I am glad to entertain you my dear.” Julian declares with a dramatic bow, giving him his trademark grin again. His companion’s smile never falters, and now when he thought about it, it had always been there since he first lied his eyes upon the pale figure, just changing its intensity and meaning.

None of which had been malicious.

”Why yes, you sound like a highly entertaining person, Doctor, and I would not mind you entertaining me some more in the future.” He comments with a wink, blooming quite the flush on Julian’s face, who coughs and hides his face behind his hand briefly as if politely hiding his coughing fit, averting his gaze.

”Ah, but I suppose it would be selfish of me to wish to endanger you like that. Even as an Emperor, I doubt I’d have much say in the matters relating to your case without any sufficient proof of innocence.”

Julian was about to comment on how he had people working on that, when a particular word registers in his mind.

”...Emperor?” He blinks, wondering if he heard correctly.

”Oh, I thought you’d figured it out by now.”

For a moment, Julian just gazes at him confused, and another amused smile spreads across Helias’ face as he leans closer, so close the brunet could feel his soft breath brush over his skin.

”I am one of the royal twins.The Emperor Helias of Mirthas. It has truly been a pleasure to meet you.”

Julian feels his brain freeze, and for a moment, all he could do was gape at his companion, who shifts back with a childlike snicker, winking at him.

”It’s a secret though, so don’t tell anyone; I am not supposed to be around here.” Rather pointless statement given how much he stood out naturally, but likely Helias knew this already.

Julian splutters out for a bit, trying to find his voice; this was certainly not the kind of turn he’d been expecting from his evening. Finally, he manages to get his flustered state under control, and coughs, giving him a charming smile.

”Why of course! I should’ve known someone as stunning as you couldn’t be anybody else, Sire. I heard rumors of the stunning beauty of one of the twins, as well as about the fiercity of the other.”

”Oh Gwendolyn is fierce indeed; Even the strongest of warriors tend to tremble under her scowl. Well, everyone except a certain mage I know.” Helias chuckles, sipping his drink again.

Julian takes a quiet moment to process that yes, he was indeed sharing a drink with a royalty, a gorgeous royalty who seemed to enjoy his company.

His stomach was doing flips, and the fast beat against his ribcage didn't help. This time it wasn't out of fear for his safety though, at least not like before.

Having someone try and trick him into getting caught was one thing, dragging a royalty into his mess by accident was another.

Just as he was about to say something, Julian spots a familiar red haired figure heading his way, and a second later, strong hand grasps his ear and tugs on it hard enough to pull him off his chair.

”Ilya! I told you not to come to the palace today! What if you’d been caught?!”

Pasha scolds him loudly, still tugging from his ear so painfully the brunet wondered if it would come off. Beside her, a slightly concerned Lina watched the two siblings with an awkward expression. Then, her eyes hit on the figure beside them, and her eyes widen.

”Ah! Sire Helias, why are you here? Your sister was so concerned!”

Helias just chuckles and sips down rest of his drink, before slipping down from his seat fluidly like rest of his motions. That is when Julian notices that he was barefoot.

Why on earth would somebody walk barefoot on these streets?

He could get injured by a rustly nail piercing his soles or be bitten by the rats. He must’ve mumbled out his concerns out loud, as Helias chuckles amused and steps closer, gently shooing Portia off him briefly.

The redhead woman looks at him a little stunned, likely wondering the same thing as Lina, but does so nevertheless out of politeness, still giving her brother the stink eye. She hoped that Ilya had not gone and upset the Emperor somehow, though it didn’t seem to be the case given how calm Helias appeared. Then again, from what she’d gathered during the day, he was always pleasant like this. Even if it didn’t necessarily reflect his actual mood.

”I appreciate the concern, but my kindred are highly resistant to most diseases and injuries of human kindred.” He lifts his hand to gently brush the reddened ear Portia had been holding, causing a maddening redness spread across Julian’s cheeks.

The touch was so incredibly soft he wasn’t sure if he actually felt it at all. His sister was watching them keenly, deep worried frown on her face; it did not seem like Ilya was in trouble right now, but, you never knew with him. It’d be a miracle for him not to be.

”It was a pleasure meeting you, Julian. I do hope though...”

He steps back and turns to head out of the bar, glancing at him over his shoulder with that same soft amusement that had never left his features during this whole meeting.

”.....That next time when you sneak in the palace, you don’t rush out trough a window.”

Julian coughs and rubs his head, giving him a sheepish smile.

”I would use the door My lord, but, the guards won’t let me as you can likely imagine.”

Helias just hums amused, before turning to look at Lina, questioning whenever they’d lead him back to the palace.

”Of course sire! Please follow me.”

Lina glances at Portia, who just nods, telling her to go on ahead. She keeps looking at Helias, as if trying to deduce whenever her brother would be in trouble or not. As if sensing her thoughts as well, Helias gives her a reasuring smile.

”Let’s keep this adventure a secret shall we? I wouldn’t want to worry my sister, and I believe your dear brother has reasons to keep quiet as well.”

After a moment of silence, Portia nods, seemingly relieved,

”I’ll take care of my stupid brother. Bring His Majesty back to the palace, will you Lina?” She states while giving Julian another look that spoke of a long rant and more ear-pulling. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

The only thing unusual from times before was the long haired, glowing figure that kept lingering in his thoughts.

He wasn’t entirely sure on what to think about this encounter.

So. My issue writing this - why this took me three days when normally writing something this short takes only a few hours - is because Julian isn’t a typical character I write about. Normally I write about quieter troubled ones, aggressive asshats, etc.

Dramatic Cinnamon Rolls aren’t my specialty, so I had to ask help from my friend so she could proof-read this and make sure the story is as IC as possible for Julian.

This is only really a first one, I’m planning on fleshing this out more as I don’t really care about making random shipping with no story behind it.

I LIKE writing stories after all.

Lina (C) @mad-hatter-rici

Helias (C) Me

Julian and Pasha (C) Nix Hydra

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logh-icebergs · 7 years ago

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Episode 30: Lost Things

March 18, 798/489. In the Empire, Reinhard’s fleet prepares to warp Geiersburg Fortress into the Iserlohn Corridor. On Iserlohn, Yang prepares to submit to a dubiously lawful inquiry by the hostile—but democratically elected!—Alliance government. Hilda convinces Mecklinger to pay a visit to her sick cousin, who teaches us all about the importance of having hobbies. And Geiersburg’s test warp, thanks to Kempf and Mueller’s adept leadership, goes off without a hitch. Meanwhile, Reinhard sinks deeper into depression, Julian blows off steam at the shooting range, and Reuental and Mittermeyer (you guessed it!) go on a date.

Reinhard Alone

Reinhard may be dead inside, but he still looks amazing. Episode 30, in particular, has some of my favorite animation in the series, so please enjoy all the ridiculously beautiful heartbreak as much as you possibly can through your tears.

We haven’t spent much time with Reinhard since the traumatic season 1 finale, so we’re long overdue for a check in with our fast-rising Empire-side hero. How’s he been doing?

Not great! (From episode 28.)

Once you're immersed in how LoGH tells stories, it’s tempting to say that Reinhard’s newly sour affect “should come as no surprise,” given what he’s been through. And though that is true on an in-universe level—nobody who suffered the tragic loss of a long-time romantic partner only months ago should be expected to have recovered already—it would be disingenuous of me to suggest that surprise at the way LoGH treats Reinhard’s grief is unwarranted.

In my episode 26 post, I talked about how my past experiences as a queer consumer of media had primed me for LoGH to handle Kircheis’s death poorly, and what a surprise it was when my expectations were subverted. In that light, Reinhard’s grief—the way it changes him, the way it has a tangible presence, the way other characters tiptoe around and discuss it—is a surprise. It’s a constant reminder not just of how important Kircheis was (and still is) to Reinhard, but also of how committed LoGH is to treating its queer characters and their relationships with respect.

LoGH can be a difficult show to watch. Not only does it have over a hundred incredibly dense episodes to get through—some of which are basically impossible to parse unless you watch them more than once—but it’s also deeply, sometimes overwhelmingly sad. Depending on the context, though, that can be good, or at least validating. And Reinhard’s grief, upsetting though it may be, is fundamentally important to a queer reading of LoGH.

Like I said during episode 26, Kircheis’s death is a turning point for the slow dissolution of LoGH’s heteronormative surface reading. And the unflinching portrayal of Reinhard’s grief from here on out is evidence of an ongoing decision on the part of LoGH’s creative team to allow what was formerly confined to subtext to remain above the surface.

The Locket

The way Reinhard’s voice softens when he talks to “Kircheis” via his locket is dramatic and says a lot more on its own than is possible to express in a mere text caption. If you missed it the first time, definitely go rewatch this scene in episode 28 (the timestamp is 3:45) to get the full effect.

The most obvious manifestation of Reinhard’s grief is, of course, his locket, in which he keeps a family photo and a lock of Kircheis’s hair. Some of Reinhard’s colleagues, as I’ll get to in a minute, worry about him because of how much he’s changed since Kircheis’s death. But I would argue that a lot of what’s so disturbing about Reinhard’s transition into Life Without Kircheis is the lack of change, at least in one respect: He still relies on Kircheis for emotional support, as is evident in the gifs above, and for strategic advice, which we see a bit of in episode 30 (below), and will see more of in the future.

Hilda is particularly attuned to Reinhard’s new habit of playing with his locket whenever—were Kircheis still alive—he might have looked to him for input, approval, pushback, or whatever.

There’s nothing inherently unusual about accessing one’s memories of a departed loved one for guidance, but Kircheis was Reinhard’s only intimate relationship before he died, and now that he’s gone, Reinhard still shows no interest whatsoever in diversifying his support network. As a result, his only intimate relationship is now with an inanimate object—or, to put it another way, he has nobody.

Of course, Reinhard’s isolation isn’t entirely self-imposed. Annerose was also a source of strength and comfort before she voluntarily withdrew from his life. If things had gone differently and Annerose had stayed, Reinhard might not feel so lonely—but would that have been healthier, for either of them? I’m not sure. My guess is: not significantly.

Other People

I’m not sure Reinhard realizes how obvious it is to everyone around him the extent to which he’s been utterly destroyed by Kircheis’s death. The fact that he wouldn’t care even if he did realize is, well, not unrelated.

From the relatively trivial to the life-altering, rumors and hearsay play a substantial role in our understanding of LoGH’s world and characters. Reuental and Mittermeyer, who have already spent a good deal of time gossiping about Reinhard and will continue to do so far into the future, are responsible for a good portion of the Empire-side gossip that we see—probably as a factor of their daily standing date. In episode 30, Reinhard’s two highest ranking admirals discuss the depths of his grief in vague terms:

It’s worth mentioning (as always) that Reuental and Mittermeyer’s bodies during this scene are beautifully aligned, without being symmetrical. The line of Mittermeyer’s torso is precisely parallel with Reuental’s left arm! Look at it! In case you hadn’t noticed, I am in awe of the animation team’s treatment of these two.

Reuental and Mittermeyer’s discussion of Reinhard and Kircheis is, of course, about more than just Reinhard and Kircheis—this is Reuental we’re talking about, after all, and he is pathologically incapable of saying one thing without also meaning at least five other things. For the time being, though, this scene mainly adds another, third-person dimension to Reinhard’s grief: We already know how it is affecting him personally; now we also know that it is affecting the people around him, that they’re aware of it, and that these are important enough facts to merit scenes of this length devoted to conveying them.

Hilda, on the other hand, is a lot less prone to gossip than Reuental and Mittermeyer—or maybe she just hasn’t found the right gossip partner?—so her feelings about Reinhard’s situation are communicated to us differently, mainly via looks (above) and internal monologue:

Worry not, dear reader: I’ll be spending tons more time on Hilda and her well-articulated emotional intelligence in the very near future. For now, feel free to repeat “Hilda knows everything” to yourself whenever you see her on your screen, because that basically sums it up.

I also love this little exchange, after Reinhard shuts himself away (again) in the room on Geiersburg where Kircheis died:

Kempf and Mueller’s quick look of mutual understanding here is so simple, but goes a long way towards expressing that the topic of Reinhard’s grief is never far from anyone’s lips among the admiralty.

These are all—even the lengthy conversation between Reuental and Mittermeyer—comparatively small moments in the overall landscape of LoGH. But taken together, they convey that Reinhard’s grief is not small; not for him, not for the people around him, and not for the galaxy.

Reinhard’s Oberstein Eyes

On a subtler character note, remember a few episodes back when Rebecca likened Reinhard’s eyes to Oberstein’s? Well, you may have thought she was being facetious, but she extremely was not. Allow me to demonstrate:

Here are Oberstein’s eyes as they appeared in episode 4. Their most noticeable trait is, obviously, the fact that they’re flashing red. But another distinctive characteristic of Oberstein’s eyes is that they don’t have any highlights or other details beyond the pupil and flat, uniformly blue iris.

In contrast, this eye-heavy moment from episode 28 is a good example of how eyes are typically animated throughout LoGH—with the remarkably consistent exception of Oberstein’s which are, of course, artificial. Mittermeyer and Reuental’s eyes here both have distinct highlights, and seem to move naturally.

Here’s an example, from episode 9, of how Reinhard’s eyes in particular have been depicted before now: Note the visible highlights that change and move with his expression. Reinhard’s eyes do a lot of characterization work for him, and obviously got a corresponding amount of attention from the animation team.

Compare that to Reinhard’s eyes here, in this moment from episode 27. Like Oberstein’s eyes, Reinhard’s irises are now flat and lifeless. They don’t move with the rest of his face and have none of the energy we’re used to seeing from him.

But unlike Oberstein’s, Reinhard’s eyes aren’t synthetic. So when he lets his guard down—which he can only do when he’s alone with his memories of Kircheis—we see unbridled pain and anguish flood back into them. Poor Reinhard.

Stray Tidbits

Can someone please explain to me exactly what is going on here? Why does Yang’s desk only go up to Schenkopp and Cazellnu’s knees? Why is Yang proportional to his weirdly tiny desk? Why is his entire head smaller than Schenkopp’s crotch? This single screenshot keeps me up at night with questions.

Maybe the furniture store that sold either Mittermeyer a tiny chair or Reuental a huge chair also has a location in the Alliance.

Try to imagine something more suspicious than not having a pet. How about liking books more than pets? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Time for some fun facts: Other than Da Vinci, the three historical figures that Hilda’s cousin mentions are Cao Cao, Lazare Carnot, and Tughril Beg. Biographical info on Cao Cao and Lazare Carnot makes it pretty clear they were both, like Mecklinger, Renaissance men who had a wide variety of cultural accomplishments in addition to their political/military careers; it’s harder to find information on Tughril Beg but my guess is that he falls into the same category.

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Elizabeth #Empire #Reinhard #grief #queerness #eyes #Reinhard's locket #Geiersburg #gossip

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geek-gem · 7 years ago

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A talk about the DCEU

I’m gonna be honest. I was kind of nervous and just didn’t know well…at Sierra Vista just near let me see that Jungle Play House at one of the tables the third one. Just kind of in the middle ha man.

Just I’m sorry I’ve been a bit nervous. I’ve been thinking just…I’m gonna tag this. I have been nervous mainly I wanna be okay with what I have to say and spoiler it’s positive mostly man almost left nab ha man…yet I’m worried of people’s reactions not just people who dislike the DCEU even fans themselves. Or just…I mean Tumblr maybe a lot of people see this or not.

I’ll just say it and just said I do or some shit shit. I like the DCEU. I’m being serious. I honestly like what direction they are taking. Including their are things I like. Just saying I had thoughts of making a Zack Snyder post but I feel this will do.

But I like the DCEU. I like the MCU. But this DCEU has some stuff I personally like.

Even with my messy review. I kind of struggle of my liking toward the film yet at times I think.

I like Batman V Superman Dawn Of Justice. The film is not perfect. Yet the Ultimate Edition I feel I know it may seem like bullshit but it really helped me with my thoughts on the film. But I feel some stuff could be better. Yet I honestly like that film.

Other things such as I honestly really like Henry Cavill as Superman/Kal El/Clark Kent and Ben Affleck as Batman/Bruce Wayne that I really don’t want them to be recasted. Those rumors of Affleck leaving are bullshit. I seriously like them as the characters.

Also really I’m confused I like both DC and Marvel. Including I really loved Spider-Man Homecoming including as a Spider-Man movie. Yet just…again their are things I like about what the people behind the DCEU are doing. It’s not perfect yet I like it.

Well maybe I did see quite a bit of DC cartoons when I was younger being exposed to that might help.

I honestly like Man Of Steel and Wonder Woman. But I haven’t seen Suicide Squad just…I have mixed feelings on seeing that film. Just in case anyone reading this maybe a reblog don’t know how to reply to replies or…just a message or ask. Anyone’s opinions ether good or bad. I just feel mixed towards Suicide Squad.

Including I like the casting choices made for a lot of the characters. I’m even okay with Jessie Eisenberg as Lex Luthor because I don’t mind the new direction Zack was trying to take.

Also I might wanna add Gal just everyone maybe in the I can’t or just don’t want them recast even Jessie but need to see Suicide Squad ha man.

Including I mean Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman.

Also I’m gonna say I freakin adored Hans Zimmer’s and Junkie XL’s soundtrack of Batman V Superman including tracks like, “Beautiful Lie”, “Black And Blue”, and, “This Is My World” a track I’ve listened to many times even some remixes. I think I’ve listened to it too much yet imagining the right kind of moments it’s a track that makes me want to cry I’m even thinking of it right now mate ha.

Now Zack Snyder I like him. I really do. Mainly over time just my reaction towards BVS was a bit more negative yet over time I’ve looked into it a bit more.

Also I don’t wanna insult Zack. I haven’t seen all of his work and it’s mainly Man Of Steel and BVS, also Dawn Of The Dead the remake along with that wanna give my piece rest in piece George Romero I found out that news from yesterday mainly a FilmJunkie video about Zack taking down some Justice League stuff.

I can’t really word it right or just I like him. Including what happened to his daughter committing suicide is tragic as all fuck. No one should have to go through that. Really I’m concerned for him and hope him and his family are doing alright. Along with the fact I want him to come back but when he feels like he’s ready.

Even with that stupid joke in my head but it’s with people wondering if he shows up at ComicCon and him being like I’m back mother fuckers and people cheering. Yet I want him to take his time. That’s his choice I forgot if ComicCon okay what time is ComicCon this week or next week. Also damn fly still around.

Really okay I need to be honest it’s not to insult him. He’s not perfect. Yet I like his directing style and I can tell what he’s trying to do. It’s not perfect. Yet just… seriously I really admire him or something.

Including what I’ve learned more on Tumblr he seems like a really cool guy such as respecting women, and that his mother who died years ago inspired him. Theirs more stuff I might need to find out.

In fact my personal thoughts I honestly hate it when people compare him to Michael Bay. The director of those God damn Transformers films. To me at least Zack has well has some class and his direction of what a story he wants to tell. Really I don’t wanna talk much about Michael Bay that’s another story. But I’m just saying I don’t seem to like it when people compare the two yet my opinion man ha chill bro.

Meh it’s normal to smile. I don’t know…just seriously I like the MCU but I feel like the DCEU is a cinematic universe is to my liking. The fact just…I’m really excited for Justice League, even Aquaman, and whatever films they want to put in their cinematic universe.

Maybe beautiful in a way ha but…just I like it. Because just yeah it’s not perfect. Yet their are some things I liked. I’m sorry I don’t know what else to say. I needed to get this off my mind.

I do wanna say I feel ashamed or just disappointed just sad I didn’t see Batman V Superman in theaters twice. Including I would of loved to see the Ultimate Edition in theaters man. That honestly made me change my view on some things.

But just I don’t know almost left hot ha but…how deep can I be with this. Hey I also liked Doomsday. Yeah I seriously do I’m bothered we don’t have more figures of ha his version from BVS.

I wanted to get this off my chest. But I don’t know or forgot how to ha…be more deep with this man. So wrote Wonder Woman tag twice and no Suicide Squad tag ha…sorry yeah normal to smile.

But sorry wanted to get this off my chest that I like the DCEU

edit put the Justice League tag but that was the 2nd thought cause guess I’ll say this…that Zack Snyder or yeah both the DCEU has inspired me a bit ha…in front of GameStop. But I felt the inspiring thing was important ha…it’s okay to smile just…yeah the inspiring thing I felt was important sorry was to nervous to say edit yeah in GameStop sorry some ticks but I seriously felt it was important to mention the inspired part

#batman v superman #man of steel #wonder woman #dceu #dceu positivity #zack snyder #justice league

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conner-grace · 6 years ago

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The Detective and his Little Assistant (part 1)

(Part Index)

Chapter 1: Caught in the Act

*Akechi's P.O.V.*

It was Sunday the twelfth of June, just two days after my rather successful interview. I was heading to the entrance of my cram school until someone caught my attention. A boy about 6 inches shorter than me, fidgeting while seeming to be looking at his phone. Noticing the fluffy, shoulder-length ponytail, colored midnight with a couple vibrant ginger highlights, Sasaki Kaito-kun, an underclassman, and pretty much the only person I'd really call my friend. I quickly walked towards him, seeing how nervous he looked, but stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed what was on his phone screen...the somewhat familiar red and black background of the Phansite...for the Phantom Thieves. I looked closer, well, as close as I could without moving any closer to him, and realized he was putting in a request. I quickly pulled out my own phone and checked the time, since the requests on the Phansites actually had time stamps. ‘I’ll look into it later, but why didn't he ask me for help first?’ I think, before I hear him turn around and caught him hiding.

"H-hi Akechi-senpai." He greets, now holding his phone behind behind his back.

'He's still so formal' I think with a sigh, looking from my phone to him, his black bangs as fluffy as his ponytail with a highlight running down the edge of them still covered the right side of his caramel-latte colored face. Purple-rimmed glasses framed his visible left eye that was grey, flecked with silver, and always reminded me of a restless storm. His glasses rested upon his cheekbones, which were densely coated in freckles.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Goro, Kaito-kun?" I ask with a small smile.

*Kaito's P.O.V.*

I felt someone's presence behind me just as I finished putting the request on the Phansite to change the heart of a bully in the school. I turned around quickly to see Goro Akechi-senpai looking at his phone, and immediately hid my phone behind my back, hoping he hadn't seen what I was doing.

"H-hi, Akechi-senpai." I smile, hoping my nervousness didn’t bleed through.

Akechi sighs, looking up from his phone to me. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Goro, Kaito-kun?" He asks with a small smile.

"R-right, sorry Goro-senpai." I smile, a little embarrassed that I keep forgetting that.

"Anyway, you seem nervous, is something bothering you?" He asks kindly, though his voice laced with a touch of worry.

"Oh, um it's nothing, just rumors that Samaki-sensei is gonna do a pop quiz tomorrow mainly on the dates of events." I lie looking to the side, scratching the back of my head, 'I know I should tell him, and I hate lying to him, but he's already got so much on his plate, school, his case, and even interviews. I don't wanna be a nuisance and put any more on him and possibly overwork him' I think as the lie leaves my lips, trying to justify it to myself.

"Oh, ok, you've always seemed to have troubles with dates in history, combined with your apparent test anxiety you continue to have, no matter how many you pass." He smirks. "However, I'm supposed to head straight to the Detective Agency after school, want to walk to the bus station together?" He smiles

'Wait, he bought that? He always catches me in my lies... well, I won't question it' I think in surprise, before nodding in response to his question.

"Well, let's go then." He smiles

"MMhmm." I smile with a nod as we head to the station, talking about parts of our school day.

***

*Akechi's P.O.V.*

I was currently waiting on Sae Niijima-san, and decided to look at the Phansite to see what Kaito-kun requested so I pulled out my phone and went to the site. Luckily, since not many people seemed to believe they actually existed, there weren't many requests, so I quickly found the time block I was looking for. After skimming over a few I found the one I was looking for, or at least I hoped it was, it was the only one dealing with Aoyama High School after all. The request read:

"Um, hi, you seem to be real so please help, there's a bully at Aoyama High School, Yuno Takeya, she's a third year who blackmails and intimidates students into doing things for her, mostly dealing with schoolwork and cheating on tests, but she also verbally berates, or well, bullies students if they don't do as she says, or it isn't up to her standards, or sometimes if she's just in a bad mood. She occasionally physically bullies students, but not in obvious ways...I guess, let's just say she's not called the queen of volleyball and dodgeball for nothing..."

I growl left my lips before I could bite it back, the grip on my phone tightening considerably, it was definitely Kaito-kun who wrote this. 'He's been slightly more skittish and jumpy the past few weeks, I can't believe I passed it off as nothing!' I silently berate myself, punching the home button on my phone with my thumb, and angrily shove it in my pocket. Pinching the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb as my brows knit together in anger and concern. 'Why didn't he tell me...?' I wonder, trying to think of a reason, missing the sound of clicking heels nearing me, as I focus on Kaito-kun's behavior recently. I think for a few moments before chuckling slightly.

"Idiot." I murmur softly, meaning both Kait-kun and myself, he always tried to stay out of everyone's way and not be a bother or burden to anyone, and I'd complained about my workload shortly after he'd become more skittish.

"Ahem?" Someone next to me clears their throat, causing my head to snap up and, to my shock, see Niijima-san next to me.

"Mind telling me what's on your mind? I've been standing here for 5 minutes." She smirks

"Really? I'm sorry Niijima-san, it's nothing. Let's get to work." I respond with my normal false cheeriness and smile, and she bought it, just like everyone does…. Well, almost everyone

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thesketchiestone · 7 years ago

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The Woes of the Zombie Man

Chapter I

During which the reader becomes acquainted with Boris and his beloved buddy Bugger

Due to the abundance and the enormity of the festering boils that had plagued him his whole life, Boris Buford had long been the butt of many jokes and the source of many nightmares. Thanks to a rare and, as far as he knew, incurable skin disease, the entirety of his body was covered with grotesque pocks that closely resembled the open wounds of a bullet-riddled carcass of any kind. Outbreaks of red and green cysts stood out against the pale casing his body was wrapped in. His oozy limbs constantly swelled with pus and caused him no small amount of discomfort. The terrible ailment had bothered him to the point of anguish in his youth, and at an early age he had become fearful of his peers and the ridicule they produced, so he had learned to keep to himself in an effort to avoid scaring people or hearing newly invented nicknames for himself or any one of the thousand other unwanted annoyances he knew all too well that came with participating in society. Conditioned to be distant, he decided not to bother people with his gruesome presence. Becoming a homeless recluse, he chose to suffer alone, thereby suffering a little bit less. Boris was fully aware of how unappealing his visage was to others, and although it saddened him to admit it, he found his own reflection rather frightening and had made a habit of avoiding mirrors. Folks around town knew him as the Zombie Man, which only added to his already insurmountable grief. Needless to say, he was somewhat of an ugly duckling.

Bleak Boris Buford was born and bred beside Biloxi in Boonesville, a small municipality slightly less populated than you’re imagining it to be, and he had never once stepped even a single foot outside the county line. He existed mainly in the shadows of alleyways to keep himself from being seen by others, though sightings of him were reported from time to time, and were always thoroughly discussed. The misfortune of the Zombie Man was well known throughout his hometown and was frequently talked about. Boris became something of a myth and rumors spread viciously, adding to his macabre mystique.

His mother and father had abandoned him when he was still a child, because – and this cannot be stressed enough – he was as nauseating as is visually possible. Even at such a young age he was offensively taxing on the eyes. One day his parents had had enough, so they up and threw him away. In a garbage bin. Mr. and Mrs. Buford shed many tears at having deserted their only child; not from the guilt, but out of self-pity. Though his parents were right in thinking he was an awful excuse for a baby boy, they later admitted that perhaps they could have handled the situation with more tact. Nevertheless, Boris somehow survived and grew up to be an amazingly unattractive young man, and an even uglier adult.

His only friend in the world was Bugger, a sickly flea-ridden mutt with a terrible case of mange. Boris had bonded deeply with the hideous dog, and he cherished the animal’s friendship more than anything. Constantly praising the loyalty of his companion, he would embrace and pet the gross beast day and night. Caressing his pal was often quite painful, as both creatures usually had ulcers leaking from head to toe, but that had never stopped them from expressing the camaraderie they held so dear. They were inseparably close, both at heart and in physical proximity, at all times. The appalling exterior of the two monstrosities did not agree with the beautiful love they shared, as Boris and Bugger both possessed kind and gentle souls, but to see the two of them together was such a horrific sight even the most righteous nun in the world would have found it difficult to show them any generosity.

Having so little to do with his fellow man, Boris was between jobs, and had never been employed at all for that matter. Living so many years without money had made him resourceful. Painstakingly, through countless woeful tribulations, he had grown accustomed to dumpster diving in order to provide for himself and his amigo. In fact, the duo had first met while excavating a trash can behind a diner, and it was then they had shared their first meal of foul fowl parts. Rummaging through the waste supplied them with anything and everything their hearts desired, as long as their hearts desired discarded junk and rotting leftovers, which had never been the case. Still, ransacking trash receptacles sustained them. Occasionally, on certain nights as infrequent as they were exciting, when another mouthful of garbage scraps could not be stomached, Boris would steal. It was on a night such as this that he set his sights on Gitcha Goods, a corner store, and it is here we will join the pair of vagrants as they prepared for the famous caper during an instance that will be recounted now.

Chapter II

In which the baffling buffoonery of the Boonesvillian banditos begins

Hiding in an alley across the street from Gitcha Goods, peeking around the corner, crouching in the darkness, and generally exhibiting shifty behavior in a number of ways, Boris turned to his mangy counterpart, licked his lips, and said:

“We’re gon’ be eatin’ good tonight, boy.”

Bugger weakly wagged his limp tail in agreement. The diseased dog knew what delicacies he could soon expect, as he was familiar with Boris’s mannerisms, and all signs pointed towards good eatin’.

Boris was all business; he had consumed so much spoiled grub lately, and fresh meals were so few are far between, any opportunity to swipe a proper feast was no laughing matter. Concealing himself in the adjacent alley, he focused his unblinking gaze through the glass door of Gitcha Goods on the store clerk, an extremely sloppily dressed young girl.

She was unaware of the attention being given to her as she sat behind the counter bored and high out of her mind. She was new to town, and in order to compensate for her lack of friends she had continued her daily doing of drugs and downing of drinks to depress her depression. She had not yet heard of the Zombie Man, and as anyone who was familiar could relate, a person seeing him for the first time was guaranteed to be taken aback, especially with the bonus of Bugger, who was equally as shocking. The store clerk sat behind the counter breathing through an open mouth, alone in the building, staring dumbly at nothing in silence.

As Boris waited for her to get off work and leave him to his thievery he did not look away from the corner store that housed his future dinner.

“Ya know what, Bugger boy,” Boris said to his only pal, “I bet they got jerky in there. I know you’d love some jerky, wouldn’t ya, boy?”

Bugger responded with a string of drool and a whimper so wimpish it would have broken the heart of anyone who had heard it, as long as they had not seen the source of the sound, in which case they would have felt nothing but repugnance, because, as has already been stated, Bugger was hideous beyond belief, and was repulsing to all who were unlucky enough to lay eyes on him. It was true though, that Bugger loved jerky. Boris knew this and hoped desperately the corner store had some available, because he loved the dog more than he loved himself, and wanted only good things for his compadre. He was determined to provide, but he did not yet know how he would break in and acquire the nourishment. All he knew was that night he and Bugger would be doing some good eatin’.

Boris hid in the alley, staring at the clerk intently, biding his time until the store was unattended. Picturing all the deliciousness he would have in his clutches and gullet before long, he was jittery, delirious with desire, manic with anticipation.

Bugger, stricken with hunger and fantasizing about tasty treats, sat still in suspense, looking forward to whatever morsels their plunderous activities might bring. The two skeletal delinquents remained hidden and frozen in this manner for over an hour, awaiting their supper with mouths watering, transfixed by the neon sign that read “Gitcha Goods.”

Boris was curious as to why the clerk did not leave when her shift ended; he knew the store’s hours of operation well, and had observed and recorded her departure for several nights. It was well past three o’clock in the morning, which, according to his calculations, was after closing time. She should have left. There was no logical reason for her to still be holding her post, which made Boris worry she was on to him. She appeared to be facing the alley he and Bugger were hiding in, and he suddenly found it plausible, if not probable, that she had been watching him for quite a while. Contrary to his fears, the inebriated store clerk had fallen asleep with her head propped up in her hands, her elbows on top of the counter in a pool of drool.

Agitated by the enemy’s strategic maneuver, Boris turned to his ailing ally in the alley and hissed, “How does she know? Bitch is tryin’ to foil our plot, boy.”

Nervous and hungry as hell, Boris could not imagine shoveling through another dumpster for something to eat. He did not care if his mission had been compromised; he had to follow through with his plan, even though it had yet to be formulated. Distressed to the point of madness, he decided what he was going to do then and there.

“We’re fuckin’ doing this, boy,” Boris exclaimed to his starving cohort, “I don’t give a shit anymore. Tonight’s the night we’re gonna eat good. Let’s just fucking do it!”

He then charged Gitcha Goods with complete disregard to stealth and sensibility.

At this point it is necessary to remind you, dear reader, just how horrendous and upsetting a spectacle Boris was; his hide a hot bed harvesting pimply pocks packed with pus, bloody boils as big as blueberries, and gross growths galore; and Bugger, the corpse-like canine, in the same miserable condition, not a pinch more pleasing to perceive. There was not a man alive whose stomach would not churn at the sight of them.

The two miscreants crashed into the glass door and entered the store. The clerk awoke, astonished and dumbstruck. The violent variation of vodka and Vicodin that voyaged through her veins with vigor, in addition to the marathon of The Walking Dead she had been watching for two days straight and the gruesome appearance of the two figures in the doorway, assured her civilization had fallen and the apocalypse had begun.

Ducking behind the counter without a peep, her eyes began to scan her immediate surroundings for a weapon. Finding only a mechanical pencil and a stapler, she grabbed the office supplies; pencil in the right hand, stapler in the left. She breathed as inaudibly as she could, hunkering down and not moving a muscle.

Paying no attention to anything other than filling his face with food and forgetting his famishment, Boris dropped to his knees and began to gorge, ferociously ripping cookies and coffee cakes out of their wrappers with an enthusiasm never before seen for such cheap snacks. Bugger found a shrine of assorted jerkies and joined in on the festivities, viciously attacking a box of teriyaki flavored beef sticks. The disgusting duo continued insatiably devouring everything they could, giving not a single thought to the Gitcha Goods employee in the same room.

Hiding behind the counter at the front of the store, the clerk was terrified. She had never heard of zombies eating prepackaged goods, or of zombie dogs, but she was no expert on the subject. The abruptness of the situation hadn’t allowed her to think rationally, and her intoxication didn’t make her any more reasonable.

The furious feasting, during which Boris and Bugger ate much more than they had in the previous three weeks combined, lasted only around fifteen minutes. Exhausted and stuffed, they lay on the tile floor and moaned in satisfaction. On their backs, side by side, in sedentary bliss, they let the fluorescent light bathe them. The clerk, taking notice of how slothful the monsters had become and seeing their pause in activity as advantageous, opted to strike before it was too late.

Knowing what had to be done, she leapt from her cover, let out a deafening war cry, rushed the zombie of human physiology, drove a flurry of staples into his skull, and stabbed the mechanical pencil into its head and neck repeatedly.

Going from total ecstasy to fearing his death in the blink of an eye, Boris was bewildered by the barrage. He pushed the assailant off of him, stood up, and tried to run towards the door, but because he was so full, he moved at a pace better described as a lumber. The store clerk, still stoned, staunchly stabbed and stapled with strengthening strikes as Boris fled. Bugger saw how badly his friend was being treated, tapped into his guard dog instincts, slowly got up, and waddled his way over to the commotion in order to give some assistance. Once he finally reached the quarrel, the clerk saw him, shrieked, and kicked the undead dog with all of her might, breaking a few of his ribs. When the dog fell down she stabbed and stapled it a few times for good measure before hiding behind the counter again and feverishly reciting a prayer. The two friends retreated in a panic, wailing in excruciation. They exited the glass door and didn’t look back. The clerk locked the door right away. Her heart was racing as she thanked the heavens she was still alive. She tried to calm down and catch her breath as she picked up the store’s phone, called the police, and earnestly reported a zombie attack.

Boris and Bugger rendezvoused in the alley across the street from Gitcha Goods and collapsed pitifully.

“Oh, man. She fucked you up,” blurted Boris as he brushed Bugger’s beaten back. “Got you good, didn’t she, boy? Tramp got me too. Unnecessary if you ask me. I saw you going to town on some jerky, though. That’s good. At least we got you that.”

Boris smiled faintly as the staple wounds in his head steadily trickled blood. Being almost certain he had gone blind in his left eye thanks to the stabbings from the pencil, he felt as if he might faint, puke, or die. Bruised and battered and licking their wounds, our heroes huddled together, dreading the damned dumpster diving they would undoubtedly do the next day, wondering if they would ever eat that good again.

Chapter III

Which tells of a time Boris and Bugger experienced a bout of “food” poisoning

For many days they reminisced on the good eatin’ they had done and been punished severely for, wondering if they would ever again enjoy such luxuries. They would, of course, just not for some time. Quite a while, really. After a spell of dreadful hunger they found themselves devastatingly starving for a bit. Suffering from such a perilous case of the munchies for so long left them both weak and utterly hopeless. Succumbing to extreme caloric deficit, they had begun unenthusiastically scouring dumpsters. After chewing on something he mistook to be edible, Boris, on the verge of tears, fell to the pavement and screamed:

“We can’t live like this, boy!”

He groaned for a few seconds, wailed for a few more still, and carried on with a series of unintelligible, depressing noises. Soon actual words escaped from his mouth, and he whiningly said, “There’s nothing any good for us in these damn dumpsters. It’s all trash. All of it! Why don’t people ever toss out a pizza or two?”

He then threw up his hands in incredulity.

“Are you trying to tell me nobody ever has too many quesadillas? I call bullshit! There’s gotta be at least a couple little pieces of prime rib somebody could do without and just place real nicely in this here dumpster. I know it. But no! Nothing. I don’t know about you, boy, but I can’t do it. I just can’t! If somebody doesn’t throw away a rotisserie chicken or somethin’ like it real soon, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

His anger dissipating, he paused and became calm. Looking down and shaking his head, he picked at his fingernails and said, “Maybe I’m just putting on airs. Maybe this is the way it’s gotta be. We’ve had it worse than this before, I know. But how much can we take, boy? I guess we just been pampered by all those fancy snacks. Thought we was rich folk, didn’t we, boy? Well, we ain’t. Maybe we deserve this. Maybe we’s spose’ta live like this. Are you even listenin’ to me?”

Bugger, whose nose had grown an itchy fungus of sorts, continued licking a rash on one of his mangy hind legs, paying little attention to the long-winded spew of complaints being directed at him.

Boris grumbled for a while longer about his lack of nachos and similar subjects, then the moderately one-sided discussion came to an end. Night passed, and the two friends woke up hungrier than usual. Joints cracking as he rose from his concrete bed, Boris rubbed his knobby knees and noticed how strangely gaunt he had become. Looking down at his legs, he saw two misshapen, spindly poles, like laminated twigs. An emaciated boogeyman, he was thinner than most supermodels and inversely as arousing, aesthetically speaking. Bugger looked to have drastically dropped a few pounds as well. The mutt’s belly discovered itself to be shockingly close to the underside of his spine, and his ribs, both broken and not, jutted out at disturbing angles, stretching his deplorable skin. Boris saw the sad state his friend was in and pitied him. Even though he was no better off, he placed Bugger’s wellbeing before his own, if only by a smidgen. He had to help.

Finding a new sense of purpose, with a surge of determination, Boris decided he was going to find a way, somehow, for them to do some good eatin’ yet again. At that or any other moment a storm of brilliant ideas did not overflow or even trickle into his mind. His thoughts were few. Not knowing what else to do, he began foraging in every dumpster he knew of, searching garbage cans large and small, until he finally scrounged up a brownish, questionable substance they might could eat. Very questionable indeed. It was meat, Boris thought. Or an old salad, perhaps. A poorly executed quiche? It very well could’ve been something other than food, but Boris was optimistic. He gestured to Bugger to smell it. Bugger did so, but was unsure as to how he felt about it. They looked at it. They looked at each other, then looked back at the possibly food in unison, looked one more time into each other’s hungry eyes, and pounced on it.

Whatever it was was gone within seconds.

Boris got up off of his knees and brushed himself off. Bugger tried wagging his tail, but it didn’t feel right. Embarrassed and regretful, they avoided making eye contact as they walked to where their home wasn’t. After taking less than ten steps, Boris felt a tingling sensation in his stomach he knew meant nothing good. He looked down at Bugger, who was dry heaving violently, and braced himself as the tingling quickly grew into a rolling wave of sickness wrenching his gut. Bugger had already begun to spasm wildly, defenseless against the throes that were throwing him about. Overtaken by convulsions, abdomens seized and knotted, the unfortunate pair clutched at the ground and scrambled, as if trying to leave the pain behind. Their howls and screams of agony soon dwindled into soft cries and before long all was silent. Whatever the stuff had been it had really given their innards a good thrashing. Boris was as sick as a dog; the one trembling next to him in particular. After five hours of lying in the hot sun and allowing it to dry out their oft-wet open sores, they still didn’t feel well at all. Both of them lay on the concrete until nightfall, looking especially cadaverous, with their insides in ruins. It just goes to show the misstep it can be to chow down on a mysterious blob of unidentified stuff – specifically if the mysterious blob of unidentified stuff being chowed down upon is a few heavily deteriorated washcloths tangled together.

Chapter IV

Regarding our heroes stay in the little shack

Months passed but the washcloths never did.

As the sky warped from a drizzling gray to a sunny blue, it was unaware of how desperate the dumpster diving duo beneath it had become. It had been a tough few days for the two rejects and things weren’t looking up. After dining on a plentitude of assorted condiment packets, Boris and Bugger were less than satisfied, but not for long. When they had almost surrendered their hope and quit their search empty-handed, they stumbled upon a good deal of raw dough that had semi-baked in a sun-scorched aluminum garbage can and really turned out to be quite palatable. Having some packets left over, Boris spread relish on the bread he relished as he fed.

Feeling full and finding the future less foreboding than they customarily found it, Boris and Bugger took a walk. A long one, out of town, following a path towards the trees, with no destination and no worries. They felt the breeze and the sunlight on their faces as Boonesville faded from view behind them, its alienating judgments seeping away with it. They looked up at the clouds and the lack thereof. Bugger ran around chasing nothing while Boris chased him. Tall grass tickled their scabby legs as they ran through it, laughing. Making his way back to the path, Boris watched the blue sky melt into orange, appreciating the tranquility. Thinking he’d rather taken a liking to the act of breathing, Boris’s disgustingly chapped lips were almost tempted to smile. He thought he might have been feeling happy, but he had nothing to use for reference. Without disturbing the calm, Boris and Bugger followed the path quietly, keeping their eyes to the front, and in no time they saw themselves nearing the trees.

Passing into the woods, the path threaded through the thick, living columns. Leafy branches rattled and shook around them as they took it in. Shadows jumped forward and retreated back again as the sun broke through the trees’ extremities. The woody, waving fingers of the forest welcomed Boris and Bugger in as the breeze blew by, making them feel as at home there as they did anywhere, for reasons that should be evident. They walked respectfully among the commotion, mesmerized by the motioning greenery, captivated by it all.

Still following the weaving path into a sparsely wooded area, the trees dissolved and they entered a clearing. They saw in front of them, not far off, a little shack. It stood alone, encircled by the forest. The front door was open, creaking back and forth in the wind. Exploring his curiosity, Boris approached it slowly. The closer he got to the place the emptier it seemed.

Advancing from the side, they reached the building and crept around to the front. Boris stopped and put his ear to a window, keeping himself from view. He heard nothing but the creaking door. Guessing it safe, they poked their heads in through the open doorway, with their bodies waiting outside for the time being as they scanned the small, one-room domicile. If outwardly it had appeared to be abandoned, inwardly it appeared even more so. Stepping in all the way, they took a leisurely look around the place, and after discovering a stash of canned foods in a drawer, they instantly took a liking to it, and didn’t plan on leaving it unattended for the foreseeable future, deciding that squatting was the proper thing to do in such an establishment.

Boris finally got his hands on an elusive can opener, and life was good. Living as lavish as lords, they enjoyed home-style beans, chili, and tuna. The whole nine. With each mouthful their spirits soared higher. In a dreamlike stupor, they pigged out nonstop, force feeding their haggard frames, nodding off into inevitable food-comas, waking from one dream and falling into another. They kept this up for what felt like an eternity. Then the seemingly never-ending supply of food ran out. It had only been three days.

Chapter V

During which Boris is interrupted by and retaliates against libelers

Pot smoke swam between the brick walls of the alley as the wind played with it, possibly a little high itself. A rickety, lousily rolled blunt was passed from one misfit to another as a fit of coughing echoed between the walls. Seeing as hip hop and existentialism had already been thoroughly discussed, there seemed to be nothing left to talk about, when one of the grungy young men broke the silence and said, “I haven’t seen the Zombie Man in a minute, man. I wonder what that frickin’ sicko’s been up to. Probably some sick shit, I tell you that.”

“Oh, for sure,” replied the infinitesimally grungier of the two, “I bet he’s doing somethin’ super sick right now. Like voodoo wizardry or terrorizin’ the elderly or somethin’. Dude scares me, man.”

“I feel you. Just seeing him scares me. He’s for sure the sickest lookin’ dude I ever saw. I mean, you know I watch some nasty ass shit online, but I’ve never seen anything as sick as him. And I’ve tried. But he takes the top spot, man, no doubt. Dude, just thinkin’ about him makes my stomach feel, like, sick, you know?”

“Oh yeah. I know exactly what you’re gittin’ at, dude. That creepy fucker makes me wanna blow chunks real bad. This might sound stupid ‘n’ shit, but like, he’s not a real zombie, right? ‘Cause he’s like, monster status, bro.”

The blunt was passed. Coughing commenced and was quickly concluded, and the enlightening conversation continued.

“No, he’s probably not the legit real deal, but that’s a good point, man. I heard from my boy he ate his own family but the cops are too scared to go after him. I don’t know if it’s true, but you never know. I wouldn’t even blame the Federales, ‘cause that guy is, like, not fun to look at.”

Thoughtful nods were shared.

“True, true. The Zombie Man is an ugly dude, that’s for sure. Maybe even the ugliest dude in the world. I mean, think about it. Do you really think there could possibly be someone even…”

Out of sight but within earshot, digging around inside of a dumpster, Boris tired of listening to such verbal abuse being spouted so incompetently about him. He stopped looking for grub, climbed out unnoticed, and walked away till he heard no more.

The Zombie Man.

He couldn’t remember a time before that awful moniker. I wonder how long I’ve been living like this, Boris thought to himself. This line of thinking brought him to guess at how much time had sneakily crawled past him since his birth, the date of which he had long forgotten. He knew he wasn’t old yet, at least, he didn’t think it was so, but he didn’t feel young either. He caught a glimpse of himself as he passed a window. Approaching the cracked pane of glass to better study the face it framed, his already shrinking enthusiasm for living further depleted. To his own eyes he looked to have aged about fifty years postmortem, give or take a few dozen. It hadn’t been long enough since he’d last seen his wretched reflection, and judging by what he saw looking back at him, he was genuinely surprised he wasn’t an evil bastard. He definitely wasn’t the staunchest anti-immoralist, but he felt he was on the righter side of the ethical divide. He attempted to throw himself a good-natured smirk, landed on a scowl, and looked away, disheartened. Part of the problem was this: his skin, droopy and tight simultaneously, caused his features to appear unfathomably uncertain as to whether they were trying to convey their owner to be ecstatic or in mourning. Given one could look past the soul-tormenting morbidity of his detrimental skin condition, which one certainly could not, to determine exactly what he was feeling was a formidable task. Even when sleeping he looked like he might be smiling maniacally or bawling uncontrollably.

He didn’t know why people bothered coming up with all the slanderous stories about him, but he had heard some good ones.

“I never did nothin’ to nobody. Talkin’ about me all nasty. They must know somethin’ I don’t. No good sons’a’bitches!”

Feeling downtrodden with his hands in his pockets, kicking at the gravel, he stopped and thought a new, delightful thought: Maybe I can do something to make their perceptions less false. This thought brought to his face a devilish grin and he said:

“I’ll show those punks a Zombie Man. C’mon over here Bugger. We got some scarin’ to do.”

Creeping up from behind the grungy burnouts, one of whom was displaying his expertise on blunt rolling and giving the other a few pointers after some heavy criticism, Boris and Bugger were careful, keeping their movements slow, low, and quiet. Hidden around a corner, about fifteen feet away from his prey, Boris halted and listened.

“Dude, I don’t think Clinton even got a blowie. It was all just a cover-up so Obama could steal the oil. Have you even seen Zeitgeist?”

Boris was relieved that they were no longer talking about him, but the fact remained: they had to pay for their insolence.

Boris took a deep breath and walked into the alley with Bugger at his side. The two boys carried on with their conversation, not noticing the newcomers. To get their attention, Boris, who did not have much experience deliberately scaring people, coughed politely into his fist. The boys stopped talking, turned around, and looked at the intruding buzzkills, dumbfounded. Boris looked right back at them, slightly confused about what he should do next. After ten silent, awkward seconds, Boris recalled his enemies’ insolence and their having to pay for it, so he shook his arms in the air and ran at them yelling, “Boogaboogabooga!”

The two boys were flabbergasted. They cried out in fright as they fled. As Boris closed in on them, still waving his arms above his head and yelling what he thought to be scary noises, one of the boys fell and curled up into a ball, giving up completely. Boris let the other boy go free and stood there with his hands on his hips, towering over the pathetic bundle of fear quivering beneath him. He felt powerful. Bugger stood beside him, exposing his teeth and growling at the scaredy-cat. Totally in control, with his hate for those who had shown him hate fueling his decisions, Boris pointed at the young man and yelled:

“Sick him, boy!”

When Bugger lunged at the shrieking young man cowering on the ground, the other stoner blindsided the dog with a powerful kick to the body, re-breaking all of his previously broken ribs and breaking for the first time a few more. Without knowing what to do next, Bugger played dead and wished he was. Panicking and sensing his grip on authority slipping, Boris tried to grab the attacker to prevent another kick from being landed on his incapacitated compadre, but he was promptly dealt a devastating haymaker to the chin, sending him to the ground in a bloody heap.

“Nasty, bro! I got his juices on my hand! Sick!”

As the assailant frantically tried to wipe blood and pus from his hand, half afraid he might turn, his fallen friend stood up with regained moxie and stomped on Boris’s and Bugger’s legs a good many times, crunching and grinding their grisly tendons into mush, to ensure they stayed down. And down they stayed.

“I think they’re dead, man. What the fuck?!”

“The Zombie Man never stays dead, dude! His hellhound don’t neither! We gotta go before they resurrect and eat us or some shit!”

The petrified potheads then dashed off at a full sprint covering about a hundred yards, at which point they stopped to wheeze violently, smoke a quick joint, and discuss Jay-Z’s involvement in 9/11.

Crippled and defeated, using only his arms, Boris sluggishly crawled towards Bugger, who was also crippled and defeated. Boris rested his head beside his friend’s on the cold ground. In this fashion he ruminated peacefully on the evening’s happenings, hurting badly.

Chapter VI

In which Boris begs the Butcher

The Butcher smiled. Within the dank recess of his meat emporium’s killing room, pacing on a blood-stained and soon to be blood-soaked floor, he cradled a fully grown pig in his gargantuan arms as he stared deep into its eyes and whispered to it in sweet, nonsensical baby talk. He sang to it the same lullaby he always sang in these situations, and it sounded as good as it never did. The pig oinked softly, happily dreaming and then happily not, lulling in and out of consciousness. The Butcher kissed the beast wetly on the snout, then forcibly shoved a substantial hand into the thing’s mouth, his arm following it in well past the elbow. The muscles of his forearm danced inside the animal’s throat as his fingers searched blindly for its heart, which they soon found, removed, and tossed still beating into the fryer before being licked clean each individually by a bearded mouth and thrust into the pig once more, hunting for something else. They weren’t sure what yet. Whatever they found would most likely be used in some capacity, seeing as the Butcher wasn’t much one to waste.

He didn’t believe in paying another man to do a job he could easily do himself and he definitely didn’t want anyone under the impression that he was just a meat middleman. Hell no. He was equal parts slaughterer and salesman, and his killing room was where the meat he sold was harvested. He had brought doom to many a species of beast in that room. Pigs. Chickens. Rabbits. Possums. Deer. Cows. He had once slayed a bucking bronco with a sledgehammer just to see what it would taste like fried. This death-loving, angry-browed, foul-smelling behemoth of a man who never wore a shirt not covered in blood stains was the sole owner and operator of A Meat Shop, his aptly named place of business.

The sun had barely risen and Boris was already having a bad day, as was the norm. Dumpster diving halfheartedly, he was having trouble committing himself wholly to his craft. Perusing particularly putrid perishables peeved him as he peered across the parking lot at a portly person publicly punishing a pan-fried pork chop on a patio. He or she looks well-fed, Boris reflected as he wasn’t. Boris gazed on as the pork-chop was greedily wolfed down. He had never eaten a cut of meat like that before, but if he had, he imagined it would have been an agreeable occurrence. As he enviously watched the globular guy or girl put away the platter with gusto, Boris slid into a meat-induced hunger trance. Visions of succulent steaks swirled in his mind, occupying his full attention. His eyes stopped focusing on actuality as deeply realistic daydreams of pot roast brought to his nose pungent smells he had never known but somehow loved. Vividly hallucinating, he stood there smiling and moaning with an almost sexual desire, starry-eyed, salivating, craving tender meats.

A car horn sliced through the air and Boris’s regrettable reality thudded back into place. His senses adjusted to his surroundings. Dizzily finding himself inside a dumpster, he let go of the garbage that was clenched in his hands. Wading waist deep in waste, a wave of want washed over his being. He needed to get his hands on a nice steak.

Discontinuing his dig in the filth, Boris jumped out of the dumpster with a calling. He briskly walked around the corner where Bugger was taking a nap in the shade. Bending down and petting the dog’s hairless, lumpy back, he pictured the two of them sharing a filet. He would find a way to make it happen. Walking off a ways so Bugger could sleep, Boris looked up into the sky and contemplated praying, but decided against it. It had never helped him before. Resolute in his aim but unsure how to proceed, he looked down and saw between his feet a twenty dollar bill. He picked it up and looked at the crumpled, rectangular piece of fabric in awe. He held in his hands more money than he had ever seen. He thought of the things he could do with it. He could buy something. Or he could make a purchase. Both ideas were alien. His body jolted as he was struck with a sudden revelation. He could buy meats.

Within the red brick walls of A Meat Shop, the Butcher was busy strangling a lamb to death with his bare hands. Outside of them, just across the street, Boris was cozily concealed inside a trashcan, examining the slaughterhouse through the slit under the can’s lid. He was apprehensive; he had encountered the Butcher before. Once, in his younger, braver days, Boris had gotten caught fishing for scraps in the dumpster behind A Meat Shop and been bludgeoned badly by a buffalo femur. Since then he had kept his distance. He knew he should continue to do so, but he was hungrier than he was scared of the Butcher. And he was terrified of the Butcher.

Observing the scene from his tasteless hideout, Boris used every brain cell he had on his person trying to think of a course of action in which he would accomplish his goal and not get pulverized in the process, but he came up with nothing. He knew only one thing: he couldn’t enter A Meat Shop looking the way he did. The Butcher would surely recognize and probably attack him, which could prove fatal. Boris also took into consideration the general sense of panic his being seen in public would without a doubt give rise to. The acceptability of his appearance was at the lowest trough yet in its wavelength, which was really more of a downward slope seeing as it had never experienced an upswing and was relatively steady in its descent. Every square inch of him was either blistered, scarred, gangrenous, greenish, warty, chapped, or blemished in some other way. In any case, all of him was thoroughly yucky. To squirm is the correctest, elective, selectable action permissible in reaction to his septic epidermis. Boris was confident that anyone who saw him enter the place would be responsible enough to call the police or the health inspector.

A light bulb flashed brilliantly in his head before blinking on and off a few times and burning out, but Boris decided to go with it anyway. He did not know very much about his target, but he did know very little. Boris had heard somewhere that the Butcher was a bit of a racist. This, coupled with the need to keep his own identity a secret, was the basis for his plan. With some reluctance, he slithered clumsily out of the trashcan and went off to gather the necessary materials. After half a day of dumpster diving, he discovered and donned a dirty, previously-white bed sheet he hoped would resemble a Ku Klux Klan uniform. And with that his plan was in action.

Wearing the unfashionable getup, he walked into A Meat Shop with his newly found money held high and declared:

“I’ll take twenty dollars of meat, please.”

But the Butcher, who was a surprisingly despicable man in terms of his personal views on civil rights and would have been proud to feed a fellow advocate of Klankraft at no charge, refused to serve him on grounds of confusion.

“No deal.”

In the Butcher’s defense, the bed sheet was very dirty and tattered and made a poor costume. It didn’t even come to a point atop Boris’s head. Hardly any blacks would have found it offensive.

The Butcher grumbled in a low, gravelly voice, “Just what in the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Well, actually, I–”

“Scratch that. I don’t wanna know. Just get out my shop, maggot.”

“Please, sir. All I ask of you is twenty dollars of meat.”

Boris extended the twenty into the air with both arms as a sign of good faith. Even his hands were covered by cloth as he held the cash. The only part of him that could be seen under the bed sheet were his beady, desperate eyes through two ripped holes.

Visibly annoyed, the Butcher flexed the arms he had crossed in front of his massive chest as he stared disdainfully at the disheveled crackpot who was waving money around and making odd requests. In his unique choice of apparel, the vagrant looked like a ghost without a house to haunt. The Phantom Hobo. The Butcher didn’t have time for this. He had a rambunctious pack of wolves in his killing room and he was anxious to try out his new broadsword.

“I told you to get out. I’m not gonna say it again.”

“I have money. Please, sir. I just wan–“

The Butcher had had enough. He snatched up a 72 ounce rib eye (bone in), jumped swiftly over the counter, and swung the flaccid steak with lethal force at the intruder’s head. The gigantic slab of meat wiggled in a wide arc with increasing speed and smashed into Boris’s face, breaking his nose and bloodying his mouth. Boris flew back, his feet just inches above the tiles. The way the bed sheet flapped as he hovered made him look like a real ghost, but instead of passing through the wall, his body slammed into it and he fell to the floor, nearly unconscious.

The Butcher walked over to the crumpled nuisance and slapped it around with the rib eye a little more. He then ripped the filthy cloth off its almost lifeless body.

“You! I remember you. You’re that little zombie boy.”

Blood leaked from Boris’s mouth and ran down his corroding face as he smiled up at the hulking death bringer and weakly croaked:

“It’s Zombie Man.”

The Butcher cocked the steak back behind his head and brought it down like a hammer. A wet whistle preceded a SMACK! Our hero, feeling fairly flattened, saw the Butcher move to ready a second blow, which both he and the Butcher knew would put him down for good, so he latched on to the juicy weapon tightly. The Butcher chuckled and easily lifted the steak in front of himself with one arm and Boris came up with it. Grabbing on to the steak fiercely, biting into it to improve his grip, Boris rose until the two were eye to eye. The brute looked at the rabid madman curiously for a few seconds. He didn’t know if he was more annoyed or amused with the pest.

“You’re a hungry little fucker, ain’tcha?”

The Butcher shook the giant piece of meat, but he could not free it from the hungry creature. Being jerked back and forth, enduring whiplash, Boris frantically clung to the steak with both arms and his teeth. The room wobbled around him as he hung on. His teeth sank farther into the meat and he hugged it with all of his strength. He felt weak, but he had never been so strong. He was going to bring the steak back to Bugger.

The Butcher laughed heartily as he shook and shook the dead flesh being clutched by seemingly dead flesh.

“You know what? I’m impressed. You can have it. It’s no good to me now.”

Holding the mishmash of meat and miscreant in front of him like a dirty diaper, the Butcher walked outside and threw the whole mess overhand towards the street. Boris watched the whole world whirl by before – Wham! Landing hard on his ass, still hugging the steak, he sat there stupidly. It was then clear to him just how big the hunk of meat was. It was as big as his torso and covered him like a beef blanket. He sat there longer, studying the thing incredulously. His entirety hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe it. He had steak. His plan had worked perfectly.

Bugger had not moved all day. He was still asleep, relaxing in the cool breeze tunneling lightly down the alley. Boris found him lying there and smiled down at his best friend. He nudged the sleeping dog with his foot.

“Got us some real food, boy. We’re gonna be doin’ some good eatin’ tonight.”

Bugger woke with a start. What had resembled road kill seconds before was now full of life and excitedly running circles around its caretaker, the Guardian of Garbage. Even with his grievous injuries, Boris could not stop his heart from warming at the sight of his buddy. The duo sat down on the concrete, preparing for dinner. Boris did his best to cook the huge steak with a BIC lighter he had found on the ground, but the small, hand-held flame only charred the outside of it in grayish spots, leaving the center completely raw. Finding the eatin’ as good as it was likely to get, the main course was served. Boris gnawed gently on one end of it while Bugger tore himself off a large piece and swallowed it whole. Boris had lost some teeth from the meat beating, making it difficult for him to eat, but he was relieved. For the first time in a long time, he was focused not on surviving, but on enjoying himself, which he wasn’t. He was miserable. His mouth was so busted up he could hardly chew. But Boris could see how happy he had made Bugger, and that made it all a little easier to swallow.

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writingsubmissions · 8 years ago

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UFC on Fox 23 Preview

WHAT'S HAPPENING: *It wasn't much on paper, but in practice, UFC's offering on FS1 over MLK weekend wound up being perfectly fine, even though the ending was pretty much a total bummer. As a lot of people expected, Yair Rodriguez pretty much styled on B.J. Penn before becoming the first man (at least in UFC) to knock him down, eventually landing a ridiculous amount of blows on the ground against the Hawaiian legend before it got stopped, and leaving all of us wondering exactly what the hell we're doing here. The weird part is, in some ways Penn actually looked better than expected, at least technically - he had some brief early success clinching Rodriguez up, and landed a few solid strikes at one point based around his jab, but he just looked so old physically that the optics were absolutely awful, particularly once Rodriguez figured things out and was basically hitting Penn at will. It's kind of amazing looking back that Penn was once UFC's welterweight champion, given how small he looked here - nowadays, his natural weight class may be bantamweight, let alone featherweight. But anyway, Penn looked old even in his last fight two-plus years ago, so this was just...really, really bad. Anyway, who knows where we go from here - Rodriguez is now among the ranks of fringe contenders at featherweight, even though it's still unclear exactly how good he is - he's obviously talented and probably a top ten fighter or so at worst, but one does get the sense that there's a level where his dynamic but not particularly strategic style gets figured out and stifled. Though, on the other hand, there are guys like Anthony Pettis who can ride that all the way to a championship reign before it happens, so maybe Rodriguez is just in that class of fighter. And as for Penn, he should probably hang it up, moreso now than ever, but this is also the third or fourth straight fight of his where people have been saying that. *And a bunch of other fights happened, nothing too amazing, but also nothing too bad. Going through the rest of the main card, the biggest thing about the co-main was that two of the three judges seemed to be the only people in the building who thought Joe Lauzon beat Marcin Held, and this included Lauzon, who immediately started shaking his head after the decision was read for him and used his post-fight interview to make clear that he lost the fight. It was a bit of an ugly one, as after Lauzon had some success early, Held mostly just out-wrestled him and neutralized everything he did - on the one hand, Held didn't really do much with a lot of the advantageous positions he had, but on the other hand, Lauzon also didn't really do enough to win the fight either. Ben Saunders won a perfectly fine fight that could've gone either way that there's not much to say about, and I suppose the biggest win on the main card went to Sergio Pettis, who solidly won a fight over John Moraga and suddenly finds himself as sort of a contender. Sergio's sort of taken the complete opposite path of his brother Anthony - while Anthony burst onto the scene as a dynamic phenom, Sergio went through some struggles early in his UFC career and got kind of written off before putting together a really steady, well-rounded game and racking up decision win after decision win. So Pettis is now one of the best rising young fighters at flyweight, but unfortunately in a division with a champ that's currently cleaning house, that basically makes me worry that UFC doesn't rush Pettis into a title fight just for a lack of other available options. *As far as the prelims go, well, we already have 2017 submission of the year pretty much wrapped up, as Aleksei Oleinik hit one of the weirder ones in UFC history, an Ezekiel choke on Viktor Pesta while being fully mounted. On the one hand, Pesta probably should've seen it coming, as Oleinik already has close to double-digit wins via Ezekiel choke in his long career, but on the other hand, it's a strange choke that you don't really see often, and I don't think anyone expected it, least of all Pesta. As far as other standout performances, BJJ stud Augusto "Tanquinho" Mendes made good on his blue-chip prospect status, getting a narrow win over Frankie Saenz in a fight that looked like it was being set up for a Saenz victory. Although he's lost three straight, Saenz is a good fighter, so hopefully they hang onto him, especially since this was the best fight of the night. When it comes to other notable stuff, heavyweight Walt Harris looked good in picking apart fellow prospect Chase Sherman, Nina Ansaroff finally got her first UFC win with a one-sided performance over Jocelyn Jones-Lybarger, and Devin Powell continued the curse of Dana White's reality show, "Lookin' For A Fight", losing a one-sided decision to fellow debuting fighter Drakkar Klose. It's a funny one, that, particularly since it's Klose that's the projectable athlete and fits much more in the mold of who Dana White has personally signed, rather than Powell, a reedy brawler-slash-scrambler. *Well, Conor McGregor against Floyd Mayweather has progressed from "completely not a thing" to "almost completely not a thing," per a bunch of people. I'm assuming this basically has to do with WME-IMG looking at pay-per-view numbers for 2016, realizing that their biggest pay-per-view year ever was built on the backs of McGregor, Ronda Rousey, and possibly Brock Lesnar, and then realizing two of those people are gone and panicking about how to top it. The big thing a few weeks back was Dana White doing a radio appearance and offering Mayweather and McGregor $25 million each for the fight. This was dismissed pretty much immediately, given that it's less than Mayweather's made for a fight in years, and Floyd soon said as much, laughing off White as someone he used to remember carrying his bags. And to make the offer even stupider, $25 million is about twice as much as McGregor has made for a fight in his career, so you're pretty much telling McGregor his market value is double what he was already making, and now he has even more leverage to use that against you. Good work all around. Also, in a side note that should probably just be tagged onto this story, Nate Diaz applied for a boxing license in Nevada and is apparently close to getting it, so who the hell knows what long game the Diaz brothers are trying to play. *Bellator had a show. Tito Ortiz tapped out Chael Sonnen, who looked awful off the gas, in what was Ortiz's final fight, so now Sonnen is damaged goods, even though he'll be able to talk people into watching. I mean, the card did a really good rating, so there's that, but it never feels like Bellator is building momentum towards anything. Paul Daley kneed Brennan Ward's face in, so that was pretty cool, at least. *The Ultimate Fighter is coming back for a twenty-fifth (and perhaps final?) season, and the coaches have been announced - new bantamweight champ Cody Garbrandt and former teammate (and former bantamweight champ himself) T.J. Dillashaw. As long in the tooth as TUF is, these seasons start to live and die more and more based off the feud between the two coaches, and with the bad blood from Dillashaw's departure from Team Alpha Male, and Garbrandt replacing him as the top young fighter in the camp, this should be a good one. The two are slated to fight sometime after the show wraps, which will probably wind up being UFC's big July pay-per-view this year. As for the cast, it's going to consist of former TUF fighters, including some who are on the UFC roster, but none of the names leaked are particularly inspiring - either middle-of-the-road UFC roster guys like Zak Cummings or James Krause, guys who are past their prime like Joe Stevenson, or just fuck-ups there for personality who can't really fight, like the infamous Junie Browning. So...that'll be something. *A whole bunch of news is going on about various camps. First of all, it looks like the Blackzilians camp is pretty much no more after almost a year of rumors - team owner Glenn Robinson was going through issues with his main company filing bankruptcy, and apparently as time went on, this started to affect the camp. So, basically, a lot of the coaches, including striking coach Henri Hooft, and a lot of the team's best fighters, like Rashad Evans, Anthony Johnson, and Kamaru Usman, have all set up shop at Combat Club elsewhere in Florida, which essentially looks like the Blackzilians rebuilt under a new name. Meanwhile, the Blackzilians' main rival, American Top Team, lost one of its own mainstays, as former welterweight champ Robbie Lawler has surprisingly left the camp, where he pretty much revitalized his career, in favor of somewhere to be determined. And in a pretty interesting move, heavyweight Travis Browne has moved from the Glendale Fighting Club to Black House - it's interesting mainly because Browne is the boyfriend of Ronda Rousey, and moved to her team once the two started dating, and given how much of a hard line Rousey keeps when it comes to loyalty, this really does suggest that Rousey is done with Glendale coach Edmond Tarverdyan. On the plus side, at least the I.R.S. no longer considers Tarverdyan a fraud, as he's settled an ongoing case for a reported $160,000. *So the death knell for UFC Fight Pass may have come, as Eric Winter, head of the service, left after eighteen months on the job. Winter was a bit of a coup when he was hired from Yahoo! Sports, and he really did an awesome job with UFC's streaming service, getting the whole website re-designed, making sure a whole bunch of fights got cataloged and uploaded, and often making sure that the service would get one of the better fights on the card, as the "Fight Pass main event" was a landing spot for a lot of really excellent fights. Winter's stepping down to spend more time with his family, and it appears to be his decision, so it's unclear exactly where Fight Pass goes from here - 2017 has already been a bit down, since it looks like we're back to the service just getting the bottom-tier fights for the first two cards of the year, but then again, both of those cards have been so thin that that may not exactly be an indication of anything. *UFC re-booked Jessica Andrade and Angela Hill for the upcoming Fight Night in Houston, and it looks like this may portend an interesting change in UFC's drug testing policy. Basically, Hill, who was cut from UFC in 2015 and then spent 2016 moving up the ranks and becoming Invicta strawweight champion, was tabbed as a late replacement to face Andrade at UFC 207, but wound up falling victim to a quirk in the language of the drug testing policy - basically, anyone who was formerly in the UFC drug testing pool would be subject to a four-month window of testing before being allowed to fight again. This was to prevent guys from basically fake retiring, juicing up, and then suddenly returning, though, the rule only really initially came to light when UFC waived it to sign Brock Lesnar, who kind of wound up doing exactly that. Anyway, UFC I guess finally realized they could set the rules here and waived the rest of the four months for Hill, and the statement in which they did so included a note that apparently UFC and USADA are working to change this policy, so that fighters who are cut involuntarily from UFC aren't subject to these waiting periods, which would also make previous UFC fighters available once again as late-notice replacements. Good, smart stuff. *And now just a bunch of notes to wrap things up. UFC is currently off Russian TV, which is a bit odd as the company is seemingly set to expand into Russia as much as they can - basically, UFC I guess has left negotiating up to a third party who is demanding a much bigger contract from their Russian TV partner, and said network is balking. This all sort of feels like UFC's attempt to expand into China, which was scuttled as a bit of a disaster after a failure to understand the complex national politics going on. Invicta held another show - a good one as always - headlined by Megan Anderson beating Charmaine Tweet to become interim featherweight champion, basically the top true 145er out there with Cris Cyborg dealing with drug test issues. Anderson then called out the Holm/de Randamie winner, and given that the Australian prospect has marketable good looks and can beat the piss out of people, we should see her in UFC sooner rather than later. World Series of Fighting postponed their next show to a date a few weeks later, suggesting things aren't that great at everyone's favorite byzantine MMA pyramid scheme, and French prospect Tom Duquesnoy finally signed with UFC. Duquesnoy's topped prospect lists for years, and he's currently both the bantamweight and featherweight champion of BAMMA, one of the top promotions in Britain. Duquesnoy's reportedly had an offer on the table for years, but was just waiting until he felt ready to make a run in UFC, and even though he's just 23, apparently that time is now - I look forward to seeing what he can do. ------ BOOKINGS: *There's some actual pretty big stuff that's been announced, but let's do the usual run-through chronologically. First, as mentioned above, the Super Bowl weekend show in Houston added a fight between strawweight contenders Jessica Andrade and Angela Hill in a fight where Andrade will pretty much lock up a title fight if she wins. It'll be interesting to see what happens if Hill takes it, though - UFC just sort of threw her to the wolves as a 1-0 kickboxer in her first UFC stint, but she's improved greatly since then, and this would be a hell of a statement in a return. Plus with a few injuries on the card, some undercard fights got changed - with Sheldon Westcott out, Niko Price comes back from his debut win over Brandon Thatch to fight Alex Morono, Volkan Oezdemir will become the first Swiss fighter in UFC history when he steps in as a replacement against Ovince St. Preux, and with Evan Dunham and Johnny Case both hurt, their original opponents, Abel Trujillo and James Vick, will square off. And I guess to make up for the loss of a bout in that Trujillo/Vick shuffle, UFC added a late-notice heavyweight bout, with Anthony Hamilton facing the debuting Marcel Fortuna. *From there, we head to Brooklyn, where UFC 208 got a viable co-main to seemingly round out the card, as Anderson Silva will surprisingly return to take on Derek Brunson. The matchmaking makes sense if you figure the two are close in the rankings and Brunson was the best guy available for Silva to face on the date, but it's still a weird fight. Brunson isn't exactly a dream fight, someone UFC seems to be looking to build, or someone that Silva can just beat, so it's sort of minimizing the asset that is an Anderson Silva fight at this point, but it's still an interesting matchup to see exactly where both guys stand at middleweight from a purely sporting standpoint. Unfortunately, UFC 208 also wound up losing two fights in order to bolster the Halifax card a week later, but more on that in the next bullet point... *The original headliner for Halifax was supposed to be Junior dos Santos taking on Stefan Struve, but with Struve hurt and a search for a replacement turning up fruitless, dos Santos has been taken off the card entirely (more on him in a bit) and the new main is Derrick Lewis taking on Travis Browne in a fight originally slated for Brooklyn. It's not the biggest main event, but UFC actually wound up doing a good job filling out the rest of the card after a few weeks of radio silence. In what one assumes will be the co-main, Johny Hendricks will be moving up to middleweight to take on Hector Lombard, in a matchup of guys who badly need a win to rebound from a really rough 2016. Plus there's some other fun stuff - Liz Carmouche and Sara McMann will square off at bantamweight in a fight between two veterans who are suddenly relevant again, and with Gilbert Burns injured, Paul Felder's bout at UFC 208 has been scrapped, and he instead faces Canada's Alessandro Ricci here. Plus there are two fights in UFC's "let's get some Canadians on the card" division: British Columbia's Ryan Janes takes on Gerald Meerschaert at middleweight, and Halifax-based featherweight Gavin Tucker makes his UFC debut against Sam Sicilia. *And then there's stuff for March! The nightmare is finally over, as everything's finally agreed to, and Khabib Nurmagomedov and Tony Ferguson will face off at UFC 209 for the interim lightweight title. It's a hell of a fight between two excellent contenders, and the third time UFC has tried to put this fight together, but the whole interim title thing does feel a bit cheap since Conor McGregor is still fully healthy - this really seems like a deal where WME-IMG is just seeing the upside of having two title fights on a card without realizing that a second title probably doesn't really mean anything if it's just sort of made up, and if anything it just sort of hurts the drawing power of belts in the long term. One could say this is what UFC needed to do to have this fight go five rounds, but, well, they can just sort of arbitrarily decide that anyway. So that's the lone new fight for UFC 209, while the card the week after from Brazil added four undercard fights. Bethe Correia returns to face Marion Reneau, Jussier Formiga and Ray Borg square off in a fairly relevant flyweight fight, and in a fairly interesting featherweight bout, original TUF Brazil winner Rony Jason takes on Canadian prospect Jeremy Kennedy. Plus, UFC has signed TUF Brazil 3 alum Paulo Costa to debut on this show - he was initially matched up with Alex Nicholson, but Nicholson got hurt almost immediately after that fight was announced, so instead Costa faces South Africa's Garreth McLellan. And then we go to the London card, which still doesn't have a main event, but added two more undercard bouts to seemingly fill out the card - Tim Johnson and Daniel Omielanczuk square off at heavyweight, while bantamweights Lina Lansberg and Veronica Macedo square off in a bit of cruel matchmaking - Lansberg just fought Cris Cyborg at 145, while Macedo is so undersized for the division she might even be better off at strawweight. *UFC's still filling out stuff for March, but UFC 210 and UFC 211 are already set - 210 will be taking place in Buffalo on April 8th, while 211 heads to Dallas on May 13th. There's only one fight announced so far for Buffalo, and it's a good one, as Gegard Mousasi looks to keep breaking through in this latest run at middleweight by taking on former champ Chris Weidman. But it looks like UFC might be loading this one up, as there's a few big fights rumored for this card - the strongest one seems to be that this is where Daniel Cormier will finally defend his belt against Anthony "Rumble" Johnson, but there's also some whispers that the Jose Aldo/Max Holloway featherweight title fight may take place here, as well as a fight between Frankie Edgar and Ricardo Lamas, although all of that has yet to be confirmed by someone that credible. And as for Dallas, this all seems to be preliminary, but apparently the targeted main event is Stipe Miocic defending his heavyweight belt against Junior dos Santos, who I guess between Cain Velasquez's injuries and Fabricio Werdum feuding with UFC over money sort of wound up skipping the line, though JDS also has a win over Miocic in a pretty fun war that took place at the tail end of 2014. Also, there's two more bouts apparently set without a date just yet - as mentioned above, Cody Garbrandt is expected to defend his bantamweight title against T.J. Dillashaw after this coming season of TUF, and apparently Joe Rogan let slip that Anthony Pettis's return to lightweight will be against Russian striker Mairbek Taisumov. ----- ROSTER CUTS: 1) Tim Kennedy (18-6 overall, 3-2 UFC, last fought 12/10/16, L vs. Kelvin Gastelum): Longtime middleweight contender Kennedy retired, which had been brewing for a while, leaving behind a sort of complicated legacy. Kennedy kind of seemed like someone everyone could get behind - a former military sniper who earned a Bronze Star, Kennedy would fight between military commitments before being able to fight full-time as his career started with Strikeforce. And Kennedy had a ton of success as mostly a grinder - he would come up short in title fights against Jacare Souza and Luke Rockhold, but Kennedy was a solid third in Strikeforce's middleweight division, earning wins over guys like Robbie Lawler and Melvin Manhoef. And when Kennedy's UFC tenure started, it looked like he was pretty close to earning a title shot himself - he got a deathly boring win over Roger Gracie to start, but followed that up by knocking out Rafael Natal in the main event of a fight at Fort Campbell, which was a cool moment, and then getting another main event win in one-sided fashion over Michael Bisping. But Kennedy lost a fight to Yoel Romero in controversial fashion in late 2014 - Kennedy seemingly had Romero on the ropes at the tail end of round two, Romero's corner used a bunch of tricks like "forgetting" to take the stool out of the cage to buy Romero time to recover between rounds, and an obviously frustrated Kennedy took his eye off the ball and got knocked out in the third round. That loss and the way it happened seemingly broke Kennedy's will to compete in MMA for a bit, as he took about two years off and made an occasional bad headline. Kennedy spent his hiatus doing some weird reality show where he was hunting Hitler, and would just spend a lot of time in the alt-right sphere of things, appearing on shows with Alex Jones and firing off the sporadic crazy post on social media, highlighted by one where he talked about killing women and children while in the military, circling it all back to show that having PTSD is a choice, essentially calling those who suffered from it mentally weak "pussies." Just...gross stuff. So Kennedy finally returned in 2016, at first slated to fight Rashad Evans at Madison Square Garden, but after Evans had medical clearance issues, Kennedy wound up taking on Kelvin Gastelum this past December. And Kennedy looked like his old self, overpowering Gastelum for a bit, but that lasted about a round, as Kennedy suddenly gassed, and basically got wrecked before the referee called things off in the third round. So about a month after that, Kennedy retired via social media, and, say what you will, it looks like he'll be focusing on efforts to help unionize MMA fighters - hopefully that becomes a positive part of his legacy. 2) Jocelyn Jones-Lybarger (6-4 overall, 0-3 UFC, last fought 1/15/17, L vs. Nina Ansaroff): Jones-Lybarger announced her retirement a few days after her loss to Ansaroff, although honestly, she was probably getting cut after a 0-3 UFC record anyway. Jones-Lybarger, a former basketball player out of Arizona, is obviously an athlete, and was a solid pickup by UFC in late 2015, given that she was coming off a win against solid vet Zoila Frausto to cap a 5-1 record. But she never really showed much, as she seemed to struggle to impose her game against UFC-level athletes, even as the matchmaking sort of moved her down the ladder - a debut against top contender Tecia Torres did her no favors, the follow-up against Randa Markos was just sort of a sloppy affair, and a bout against Ansaroff, who was 0-2 in UFC herself, was just mostly a one-sided beating in her hometown. ----- UPCOMING UFC SHOWS: 2/4 - UFC Fight Night 104 - Houston, TX - Dennis Bermudez vs. Chan Sung Jung, Alexa Grasso vs. Felice Herrig 2/11 - UFC 208 - Brooklyn, NY - Germaine de Randamie vs. Holly Holm, Derek Brunson vs. Anderson Silva 2/19 - UFC Fight Night 105 - Halifax, NS - Travis Browne vs. Derrick Lewis, Johny Hendricks vs. Hector Lombard 3/4 - UFC 209 - Las Vegas, NV - Tyron Woodley (c) vs. Stephen Thompson, Tony Ferguson vs. Khabib Nurmagomedov, Mark Hunt vs. Alistair Overeem 3/11 - UFC Fight Night 106 - Fortaleza, Brazil - Vitor Belfort vs. Kelvin Gastelum, Edson Barboza vs. Beneil Dariush, Mauricio Rua vs. Gian Villante 3/18 - UFC Fight Night 107 - London, England - Corey Anderson vs. Jimi Manuwa 4/8 - UFC 210 - Buffalo, NY - Gegard Mousasi vs. Chris Weidman 5/13 - UFC 211 - Dallas, TX - Stipe Miocic (c) vs. Junior dos Santos ----- UFC on Fox 23 - January 28, 2017 - Pepsi Center - Denver, Colorado Even though UFC's slate for early 2017 is fairly disappointing in the wake of them loading up big shows in November and December, they did well to put together a solid card here, as the company continues to sort of nail down the Fox format. We've got a photogenic fight on top that may determine a title contender, the biggest test yet for what could be UFC's next great heavyweight, and two really solid action fighters. And even the undercard is pretty solid - the top two prelims are pretty strong, and while things rapidly go downhill after that in terms of relevance, thankfully a lot of the card is prospects with some upside, rather than low-ceiling veterans matched together due to there not being much else to do. At least on paper, this card looks like it could be the highlight of the first two months of the 2017 calendar, so hopefully it comes through in practice. MAIN CARD (Fox - 8:00 PM ET): Women's Bantamweight: (#1) Valentina Shevchenko vs. (#2) Julianna Pena Welterweight: (#5) Donald Cerrone vs. (#12) Jorge Masvidal Heavyweight: (#7) Andrei Arlovski vs. (#10) Francis Ngannou Featherweight: Alex Caceres vs. Jason Knight PRELIMINARY CARD (Fox Sports 1 - 5:00 PM ET): Middleweight: Sam Alvey vs. Nate Marquardt Bantamweight: (#4) Raphael Assuncao vs. (#7) Aljamain Sterling Welterweight: Jingliang Li vs. Bobby Nash Light Heavyweight: Henrique da Silva vs. Jordan Johnson Middleweight: Alessio Di Chirico vs. Eric Spicely Light Heavyweight: Marcos Rogerio de Lima vs. Jeremy Kimball PRELIMINARY CARD (UFC Fight Pass - 4:00 PM ET): Flyweight: Alexandre Pantoja vs. Eric Shelton Lightweight: J.C. Cottrell vs. Jason Gonzalez THE RUNDOWN: Valentina Shevchenko (13-2 overall, 2-1 UFC) vs. Julianna Pena (8-2 overall, 4-0 UFC): Welcome to the new normal, as this fight, which UFC has been trying to put together for a while, will probably determine Amanda Nunes's next challenger in the first fight of the post-Rousey era. And it's a pretty excellent fight, pitting striker against grappler in what's becoming a rarer and rarer matchup of the two obvious top contenders for a title. Back in late 2013, when Julianna Pena pretty much ran through the rest of the TUF 18 cast to become the first female Ultimate Fighter winner, there was some thought that she might be facing Ronda Rousey for the belt sooner rather than later - for one thing, she looked good in her fights, but with marketable good looks, a friendship with Rousey blood rival Miesha Tate, and a division that was still in an early state of flux, Pena had all the tools to work her way up the ladder in fairly short order. But that got derailed almost immediately thanks to a massive knee injury suffered before her first post-TUF fight, and things have gotten sort of weird from there. In the cage, Pena has done her job well enough since coming back, running through Milana Dudieva in her comeback fight and then getting wins over Jessica Eye and Cat Zingano, but outside of the cage, she hasn't really connected with the fanbase much, and if she has, it's been quite negatively. Essentially, if Pena pops up in the MMA news, it's usually for one of two things - either one of a surprising amount of bar fights she and her teammates seem to find themselves in, or just some weird comment where Pena apparently thinks she's a much bigger star than she actually is, demanding a title shot and just pretty much making it clear with every fight that we should be thankful she's fighting rather than holding out for a title shot she thinks she's already earned. All that talk is well and good, but there's a point where it becomes more delusional than anything, and Pena's probably past that - unless she manages to win this fight, of course. On the other side of things, Valentina Shevchenko just sort of quietly became a contender in pretty quick fashion - she came in as a late injury replacement on the last card of 2015 and beat Sarah Kaufman, and then had a performance that looks even better in retrospect against Nunes, becoming the second fighter to last fifteen minutes with the current champ and winning a fairly one-sided third round in a close decision loss. From there, Shevchenko was seemingly expected to be a set-up win for Holly Holm to rebound against after losing the bantamweight title, and I could see the logic - Shevchenko is primarily a striker by trade, and Holm had already theoretically proven herself to be the best striker in women's combat sports, but after a slow start, Shevchenko pretty much figured Holm out standing and then started to use her wrestling, earning an increasingly lopsided win and establishing herself as a top contender. So, yeah, this is a really fascinating fight - Shevchenko's proven herself to be a top-tier well-rounded fighter in just a little over a year in UFC, while Pena's still somewhat of a question mark, and it's unclear if she's truly at the level of a title contender, or just sort of at the top of the next tier. Pena's two most recent fights, those wins over Eye and Zingano to get her into this spot, are just weird ones because they're so one-dimensional - either Pena or her opponent just keeps looking for the clinch and to grapple, and Pena's been able to win narrow victories by using strength and positioning to do just enough to win. But she's really unproven on the feet - outside of some flailing punches early in the Eye fight that did not look good, there's just not enough to go on to call her striking game anything other than a question mark. Add in some questions about how good those wins over Eye and Zingano really are - Rousey's fall from grace has sort of shown that we're in the middle of an evolution process in women's MMA, and Eye's losing streak and Zingano's flat last few fights suggest those two may be on the wrong side of it - and there's just a lot of uncertainty around Pena's resume, though she's enough of a talent where any skepticism should also be laced with some optimism. Pena definitely still has a shot to win, particularly after re-watching Shevchenko's fight with Nunes - I remembered it being a lot closer of a fight before Nunes got tired and Shevchenko took over, but Shevchenko did struggle a lot early when Nunes was able to get her to the ground and get on top of her, and that pretty much figures to be Pena's gameplan. One would think that Shevchenko should just be able to keep the fight standing and probably handle Pena rather easily on the feet, but if nothing else, Pena's last two fights have shown she can usually get the fight where she wants, although that comes with the caveat that Zingano, and Eye in particular, have some questions about strategy. A Pena victory is certainly possible, but I just have too many concerns to call it, so I'll say that Shevchenko wins this rather handily, in fact keeping things on the feet and just out-striking Pena - I'm assuming Pena is better than some of those flailing punches she showed in the Eye fight, because if not, a quick finish is certainly on the table, but instead I'll say that this is more of an extended beatdown, finally ending late due to a TKO stoppage. Donald Cerrone (32-7 [1] overall, 19-4 UFC, 6-3 [1] WEC) vs. Jorge Masvidal (31-11 overall, 8-4 UFC, 5-1 Strikeforce, 2-1 Bellator): A fun fight here, as Donald Cerrone, as always, is keeping busy, and good on Jorge Masvidal for calling his shot. It's pretty impressive how quickly Cerrone regained his momentum in 2016 - after losing a lightweight title fight in one-sided fashion to Rafael dos Anjos, Cerrone pretty much seemed eternally cemented as UFC's top non-contender, a fan favorite who was probably better off fighting whoever's available as soon as possible and putting on a good showing rather than trying to make a focused run for a belt. And, well, Cerrone's sort of split the difference - he moved up to welterweight just to take another fight that eventually wound up being against Alex Oliveira, and with that his striking has taken another leap forward, as he became the first man to knock out Patrick Cote, the first man to knock out Rick Story, and the first man to cleanly knock out Matt Brown, quickly becoming a contender once again despite not really changing much in his approach to taking fights. At the moment, Cerrone doesn't really seem to have a clear path to a title shot, with Tyron Woodley and Stephen Thompson scheduled for a rematch, and the winner likely to get Demian Maia, who's holding out for a well-deserved title fight, so, as "Cowboy" is wont to do, he's just taking whatever fight is available, so here he is in his hometown against Jorge Masvidal. Credit to Masvidal for being a smart man, since while many fighters just say they'll fight whoever UFC puts in front of them, Masvidal straight up called out Cerrone after his win over Jake Ellenberger this past December, putting a fight on management's radar that nobody else was probably thinking of at the moment. Masvidal's had a strange career - he came up in the same Miami street-fight scene that birthed Kimbo Slice and turned into a pretty solid, well-rounded fighter, fighting all over the world in Japan, the nascent days of Bellator, and Strikeforce before landing in UFC. But Masvidal's also ridiculously frustrating - he's not much for overall fight strategy, and even when he's winning a fight based off his talents, he has a bad tendency to start coasting, making his wins closer than they need to be and even sometimes turning them into losses. Anyway, this should be a solid win for Cerrone - he has some flaws, particularly when dealing with fighters who can pressure him like Brown did, but I really don't have any faith in Masvidal to do what he needs to do and keep winning rounds - plus even the grappling game is sort of a wash, as both guys are underrated on the mat. I'll give Masvidal the benefit of the doubt that he's tough enough to survive all three rounds with Cerrone, since he hasn't been knocked out since 2008, even though Cerrone's on a streak of breaking formerly unbreakable chins. So I'll say Cerrone wins a clear decision in a fight that's fun and never quite reaches blowout status. Andrei Arlovski (25-13 [1] overall, 14-7 UFC, 0-3 Strikeforce) vs. Francis Ngannou (9-1 overall, 4-0 UFC): A really, really fascinating fight here, as Francis Ngannou is the rare blue-chip heavyweight prospect, and he has a shot to become a legitimate contender way quicker than anyone could've really anticipated. Ngannou was always viewed as someone with potential, as the Cameroonian fighting out of France is a giant mountain of a man built like a NFL defensive lineman, but he was only about two years into the sport when UFC signed him in late 2015. But, well, Ngannou wound up being a natural when it comes to picking things up, as you can trace a clear line of upward progression through his four UFC fights. In his first bout, against Luis Henrique, Ngannou mostly got taken down at will before uppercutting Henrique's head into the bleachers, and by his next fight, against stud wrestling prospect Curtis Blaydes, Ngannou was stuffing takedown after takedown without much of a problem. After a quick showcase win over Bojan Mihajlovic, Ngannou showed last month that he's somewhat scarily already learned submissions - Anthony Hamilton tried to clinch up with him and wear him out, but Ngannou just grabbed a kimura and basically took Hamilton, who's a large man himself, down by sheer force, getting the quick tap. So Ngannou is pretty much the prospect to watch at heavyweight, especially given that he's one of the younger fighters on the roster at age 30, though there's still a bunch of questions to be answered when he goes into deeper waters, like how he responds to getting hit and exactly how he'll deal when facing higher level athletes that he might not have such an obvious advantage against. It'll be interesting to see what type of a challenge Andrei Arlovski offers him, particularly as his career is sort of sputtering after the luck of his UFC comeback run has started to turn the other way. A former UFC heavyweight champ over a decade ago, Arlovski was sort of left for dead after a run of four straight losses in Affliction and Strikeforce from 2009 to 2011, three of which came via vicious knockout - basically, the book was out that Arlovski suddenly had a glass jaw, which at heavyweight is pretty much a death sentence. But Arlovski quietly rebounded a bit, racking up wins in various promotions, though when UFC re-signed him in 2014, it was still seen as little more than a novel signing for depth in an extremely thin division. But the next two years saw Arlovski make a run towards an unlikely title shot - it included deathly boring decision wins over Brendan Schaub and Frank Mir, but Arlovski also scored quick knockouts of Antonio Silva and Travis Browne that, admittedly, haven't aged particularly well. And in 2016, the luck pretty much ran out - Stipe Miocic ran through him in just 54 seconds en route to his own title shot, Alistair Overeem knocked him out, and while a loss to Josh Barnett was less one-sided, Arlovski eventually got tapped out late there as well. As it is, Arlovski's pretty much just a fringe top-ten fighter at this point - while he's not particularly physically imposing anymore, he makes up for that by just knowing what he's doing; despite the recent knockout losses, Arlovski's done a solid job of protecting his chin, especially compared to where he used to be, and he basically has a much better sense of physical space and technical striking than at any point in his career. So there's the chance that, by being the smaller and quicker guy, Arlovski can just use his veteran savvy to avoid danger and pick Ngannou apart - and hell, given that we haven't really seen Ngannou get hit, that may also turn downhill quickly into some sort of a knockout. But, more likely than not, Ngannou will probably use his athleticism to hit the great equalizer and put Arlovski's lights out. I do think Arlovski's a bit underrated here - Arlovski's currently between a three- and four-to-one underdog, and he really could just make Ngannou chase him and wear him out in an ugly fight - but I'll say Ngannou in fact does get another first-round knockout and makes the win look a lot easier than it actually is. Alex Caceres (12-9 [1] overall, 7-7 [1] UFC) vs. Jason Knight (16-2 overall, 2-1 UFC): UFC pretty much always opens up the main Fox card with a good action fight, and with this one, they've done it once more. Alex Caceres is a frustrating talent, since while he has a bunch of skills and often puts on an exciting show, it's unclear whether or not that's all coalesced into anything all that good. Caceres was more notable for his "Bruce Leeroy" persona rather than anything he really showed in the cage on season 12 of TUF, but UFC still saw fit to pick him up thanks to his potential. It took a bit for that gamble to pay off, as Caceres started 1-3 in the UFC, but it eventually did, as Caceres soon reeled off a five-fight unbeaten streak that was mostly over the lower reaches of the bantamweight division, but culminated with what was a big win at the time over Sergio Pettis. And even the fight that snapped that streak, a July 2014 loss to Urijah Faber, was considered a plus performance at the time for Caceres, since he gave a much better showing than expected from a non-contender. And then, well, the wheels came off a bit - Caceres lost in an upset to Japanese vet Masanori Kanehara, and then got blown out of the water by Francisco Rivera, causing Caceres to move back up to his original weight class at featherweight. Results have been mixed - after an obvious tune-up win over Masio Fullen, Caceres looked outstanding for two rounds against Cole Miller before almost losing the fight a few times in the third, and his main event fight against Yair Rodriguez over the summer was a strange one, as both guys just sort of did stuff without much of an overall plan, with Rodriguez mostly getting the better of things. And that's sort of still Caceres's game - he just kinda does stuff, even if you can see him mixing things up and picking his shots a bit more than he used to. On the other side of things, we have Mississippi's Jason Knight, who's quickly making a name for himself as a featherweight prospect to watch. After a completely nothing UFC debut where Tatsuya Kawajiri just kept taking him down, Knight showed out in his sophomore effort against Jim Alers, showing a propensity for trash talking, volume striking, and basically just not giving a fuck that led to him getting the moniker "Hick Diaz" in some circles. And he pretty much followed that up against Daniel Hooker in Australia this past November - Knight just throws a lot of volume and doesn't particularly care what you do to him, showing some Southern machismo the whole while. And I think that's going to throw Caceres off - while his performances are inconsistent from fight to fight, or hell, even round to round, they're still mostly predicated on dynamic bursts of offense, and I figure Knight is just going to get in Caceres's face, overwhelm him with punches, and just sort of prevent Caceres from gathering his bearings about what he's going to do next. I doubt Knight finishes him, since he hasn't shown much knockout power in the UFC to date, but I still think it'll be a fairly one-sided, but still pretty fun, decision win. Sam Alvey (29-8 [1] overall, 6-3 UFC, 1-1 Bellator) vs. Nate Marquardt (35-16-2 overall, 13-9 UFC, 1-1 Strikeforce): A solid enough fight here between veteran middleweights that could wind up in a pretty brutal knockout. It's nice that Nate Marquardt settled into a late-career niche and UFC figured out what to do with him; after a long stint as a middleweight contender and lower-tier card main eventer in UFC, then a brief run in Strikeforce, Marquardt's second UFC run was just sort of getting depressing. Marquardt lost four of five fights upon his comeback, and save a win over a similarly shot James Te Huna, it looked like Marquardt had just suddenly finally gotten old, as knockout artists like Jake Ellenberger and Hector Lombard destroyed him rather quickly, and younger, more athletic guys like Brad Tavares and Kelvin Gastelum made him look old and completely done as a fighter. But Marquardt was able to knock out C.B. Dollaway in a fight that seemed set up to be an easy win for Dollaway, and after being run through by another young athlete in Thiago Santos, UFC seems to have finally gotten the hint, realizing that Marquardt is a greatly diminished athlete, but still a dangerous veteran with knockout power, and putting him against fellow veterans in fights he can actually win. God knows there's enough non-athletes at middleweight. So anyway, after a brutal knockout of Tamdan McCrory, Marquardt returns to try and make it two straight against "Smilin'" Sam Alvey, who had a bit of a breakout in 2016. Alvey's always sort of been a weird cult favorite on the UFC roster, a giant, goofy ginger with a permanent grin that walks out to Train and gives these weirdly enthusiastic post-fight interviews, where he just sort of rants and raves about how great things are, including [insert city here] and calls out his next opponent. Alvey looked like he might be on the cut line after coming back from a broken jaw and losing to Elias Theodorou in June, but instead Alvey wound up fighting three times in under four months - his wife, always in his corner, and seemingly always pregnant (and a former America's Next Top Model winner - live the life, Sam), had another child, so he's gotta pay the bills - and has racked up three straight wins over Eric Spicely, Kevin Casey and Alex Nicholson. Alvey still doesn't have a ton of upside, but at least he seems to be carving out a niche, particularly since UFC seems to be putting him in more prominent situations on cards recently. This is a super-weird fight to call - Marquardt is still dangerous and has veteran savvy in spades, but sometimes he looks just awful out there, although that may just depend on his level of competition. And Alvey just has a ridiculously weird counter-striking style that's extremely low-percentage, but still works for him - Alvey just basically refuses to engage first, and just sort of hangs back and waits for an opening where he can blast his opponent with a power punch down the middle. When it works, it's an awesome knockout, but when it doesn't, things can turn into sort of a slog, as Alvey just kind of neutralizes his opponent while doing nothing himself. So this could go any number of ways. I sort of discount the possibility of Alvey winning via knockout, since I think Marquardt has enough experience to not give him the opening, but if this is one of those fights where Marquardt looks shot, that's entirely possible. So I could see this turning into a war of attrition where Marquardt isn't really able to do much, Alvey chooses not to, and this goes to the cards; but, I'll actually say that Marquardt is able to find an opening at some point and nail Alvey with a knockout shot, plus there's always the possibility that Marquardt just takes things to the ground, which he hasn't done in a while and doesn't really seem to be Alvey's strong suit. But as far as an official prediction, I'll take Marquardt via second-round KO. Raphael Assuncao (23-5 overall, 7-2 UFC, 3-2 WEC) vs. Aljamain Sterling (12-1 overall, 4-1 UFC): A really well-made and interesting fight here, pitting two fringe bantamweight contenders badly in need of a win against each other, as well as continuing the streak of Aljamain Sterling's fights being a little bit lower on the card than they probably should be. UFC's never really seemingly made him a priority, but Sterling's been a blue-chip prospect pretty much since he came onto the scene - Jon Jones comparisons were inevitable, given that Sterling's also a lanky black athlete who wrestled in upstate New York before starting in the same gym as Jones, but while it's not really an apt comparison in terms of style, it was looking pretty suitable in terms of results for a while. Sterling was pretty much using his wrestling at will to just keep running through opponents as he moved up the ladder, and after tapping out Johnny Eduardo to finish out his UFC contract, it seemed like the world was Sterling's oyster. But for whatever reason, MMA promotions just don't really seem to see much in Sterling, who's a charismatic and talented guy - Bellator reportedly didn't even make an offer, and while he got a pay raise from UFC, it still seemed low for a future marketable contender. And then things hit a further snag last May - in a bout against Bryan Caraway that seemed set to build Sterling towards a title shot, Sterling just sort of fell apart after a dominant first round, getting tired and showing a whole bunch of holes in both his striking and his takedown defense. Thankfully, Sterling's still at the point where he can fix some of those mistakes, but it was a concerningly poor performance late in that fight, and "The Funk Master" badly needs a rebound win against Raphael Assuncao, the dark horse of the bantamweight title picture. At the end of 2014, Assuncao seemed pretty much set for a title shot - he's sort of bland and won't get anyone excited, but he's damned good, and was riding a 7-0 record, all in the UFC, after cutting to bantamweight, including a win over then-champ T.J. Dillashaw. But an injury forced him out of a slated fight with Urijah Faber, and a long layoff pretty much killed all the momentum of Assuncao's career - he didn't return until UFC 200 after twenty-one months on the shelf, and even then there were rumors he fought injured while losing a rematch to Dillashaw in a fight where Assuncao still looked sort of good, but clearly lost all three rounds. Losing a fight to Dillashaw is no shame, but given where his career is and the fact that, frankly, he's not the kind of guy who'll get fans clamoring to see him in a big fight, Assuncao badly needs all the wins he can get, including one here. It's a really well-matched fight, but at the end of the day, I think it really just comes down to if Sterling can get Assuncao to the ground and keep him there, and sadly, I'm not really all that optimistic. Caraway just seemed to blow Sterling's game wide open, showing that at least as of last May, if you pressure Sterling and can counter his single strikes from a distance fairly effectively, he doesn't really do a whole hell of a lot while playing defense. And while Assuncao may not have the type of footwork to pressure Sterling quite like Caraway did, Assuncao's main strength is his ability to counter on the feet, so unless Sterling's patched those holes in his game (which is in fact completely possible for a talent like Sterling), the striking game figures to be all Assuncao. And Assuncao's takedown defense has pretty much been on point - Caraway and even Dillashaw, two talented wrestlers, weren't able to do much with him, and even when they got Assuncao to the ground, he pretty much popped right back up. Admittedly, Sterling might wind up being at another level, but again, it's somewhere else where I'm not optimistic. Despite my pessimism, I still give Sterling a shot here - mainly banking on his solid coaching at Serra-Longo and the fact that he's a top-flight kind of talent - but everything on paper favors Assuncao, so I'll say the Brazilian takes a clear decision. Jingliang Li (11-4 overall, 3-2 UFC) vs. Bobby Nash (8-1 overall): This could be a pretty fun fight, but I say this as someone who's a big fan of Jingliang Li, the one decent fighter to come out of UFC's now-abandoned efforts in China. And Li's not just decent by the low standard of Chinese fighters, he's pretty solid overall, as he could easily be 5-0 in the UFC - his loss to Nordine Taleb was a close split decision, and he was winning a fight against Keita Nakamura before getting caught in a last-ditch submission attempt. At first, Li lived up to his "The Leech" nickname, mostly being a one-dimensional wrestler, but he's developed a pretty solid boxing game over his UFC career, flashing some good technique and knockout power. After a few opponents fell out of fights on a few different cards, Li winds up here in Denver to fight Michigan-based newcomer Bobby Nash. Nash seems fine - he looks like an alright-enough athlete and has some solid striking himself, but honestly not a ton stood out, at least at the moment. That's alright enough for now, since Nash is just a little over two years into his pro career, and he seems like he could at least stick around if he's matched up against lower-level UFC opponents often enough, but I don't think Li is that. This should be a fight where Li is controlling most of it, since Li should be the better striker and the better wrestler, but the saving grace for Nash is that Li's defense is still quite poor in pretty much every area, and Nash has shown fight-ending ability both in terms of knockout power and submissions. But I expect Li to just do what he wants unless he gets stopped, and given that another negative for Nash is that I really didn't like the way he reacted to getting hit, sort of backing up to collect his thoughts, I'll call for Li to stun him early and move in for the kill for a first-round knockout. Henrique da Silva (12-1 overall, 2-1 UFC) vs. Jordan Johnson (6-0 overall): A perfectly fine light heavyweight bout here. Henrique "Frankenstein" da Silva has kept busy, with this being his third UFC fight in under four months, but it's hard to tell if he's actually any good - he didn't come into UFC with much in the way of expectations, and while he's had an alright amount of success mostly through sheer aggressiveness, all save one of his UFC fights have come against debuting opponents, and the level of competition doesn't seem to be all that high. So da Silva looks to rebound from the lone loss of his career, a submission to Paul Craig, against yet another debuting fighter, top light heavyweight prospect Jordan Johnson. A former wrestler at both Iowa and Grand Canyon University, Johnson's pretty much a raw grinder at this point, though he has some submission skills, and seems to have taken to striking well enough that he's been on a lot of top prospect lists at 205. And Johnson's done about as well as could be expected, getting six wins without a ton of trouble, and doing so in RFA, one of the top regional promotions you can go to in the US. This isn't quite a gimme - since Johnson's still just under three years into his pro career, I do have some questions about how he can react if da Silva decides to go into Frankenstein mode and just charges forward with little regard for defense - but Johnson does have enough wrestling skill, and da Silva has enough defensive liabilities, that I can just see Johnson grinding out a fairly one-sided decision by winning round after round, with a possibility of him getting a submission at some point. Alessio Di Chirico (10-1 overall, 1-1 UFC) vs. Eric Spicely (9-1 overall, 1-1 UFC): A neat fight here at middleweight. It's hard not to root for Eric Spicely - he came across as an easy fan favorite on season 23 of TUF, since he's overcome a pretty horrible amount of adversity, leaving a broken home as a teenager, pulling himself together after the death of his girlfriend in a freak canoeing accident, and just eventually got his life on track. But despite being a pretty solid fighter and making the final four of the season, there was some concern he wouldn't get a contract - Spicely's sort of a pudgy, physically unimpressive guy, and his grappling-heavy style seemed like something Dana White would really hate. But Spicely did wind up getting a shot, losing in what was honestly pretty embarrassing fashion via quick submission to Sam Alvey, and that seemed to be that for Spicely's career in the UFC. And, well, it was supposed to be, but a funny thing happened - in the whole purchase of UFC by WME-IMG, apparently the paperwork to terminate Spicely got lost in the shuffle. So, come August, Spicely apparently got a call explaining just that and offered him one of two options - to get cut, or to fight Thiago Santos, a top-fifteen fighter with destructive power, on about a month's notice in Santos's home country of Brazil. Spicely took the latter choice, and, wouldn't you know it, wound up out-wrestling Santos and scoring a first-round submission, getting one of the biggest upsets in UFC history, and the biggest one (at least per betting lines) of 2016. Good on him. So after that, Spicely returns a few months later to fight Alessio Di Chirico, one of UFC's recent signings out of Italy, a country that's increasingly starting to build a MMA scene. Di Chirico's solid - he seems to be a strong athlete, and has some solid boxing, though his grappling game is still a little bit of a question mark (at least at a UFC level) and he still seems rather raw overall. So this pretty much boils down to a striker-versus-grappler fight; Spicely obviously wants to get things to the ground, since that's the only place he's had any real high-level success, and Di Chirico should be able to take this if it remains standing. Di Chirico seems to have some decent takedown defense, with the caveat that Spicely might be the best wrestler he's faced to date, so I'll call for the Italian to mostly keep this on the feet and win a decision, though this is really a coin flip of a fight. Marcos Rogerio de Lima (14-4-1 overall, 3-2 UFC, 0-1 Strikeforce) vs. Jeremy Kimball (14-5 overall, 1-1 Bellator): This is one of those fights that doesn't really mean a whole hell of a lot, but pretty much exists to be a fun brawl, and I'm okay with that. Not a ton was expected of Marcos Rogerio de Lima off of TUF Brazil 3, but "Pezao" has done well enough for himself, getting over .500 in UFC by pretty much just being aggressive as hell and always searching for the finish, which has wound up with all five of his UFC fights ending in the first round one way or another. He was slated to face John Phillips, yet another Conor McGregor teammate being signed by the UFC, but with Phillips having visa issues, the late-notice call went to local Colorado fighter Jeremy Kimball. Not a ton of recent footage is out there on Kimball, but his M.O. seems to be the same as de Lima's - to just hit the other dude in the face really hard, and worry about the rest later. So these two guys are probably going to swing bombs at each other, and since de Lima's been doing it at a higher level, I'll say the Brazilian takes it by first-round knockout. But this is really just a fight wherever who hits the first big bomb wins it. Alexandre Pantoja (16-2 overall) vs. Eric Shelton (10-2 overall): This most recent season of TUF - built around flyweight champions from promotions all over the world competing in a tournament for a title shot against UFC kingpin Demetrious Johnson - was the best in years in terms of talent, but for whatever reason, UFC didn't really sign a lot of guys off the show, I guess figuring that since a lot of other top promotions don't have flyweight divisions, they could afford to be patient. But these two guys, both standouts on the show that made it to the final four, got the call and square off here. Brazil's Alexandre Pantoja, then the champion of top American promotion RFA, was the top seed on the season (even if most people beforehand did favor the eventual winner, Tim Elliott) and didn't really do a ton to dissuade that - while the Nova Uniao product wasn't all that dynamic on the show, he showed he could hold his own pretty much anywhere and do well against whatever opponent came his way. On the other side of things, Eric Shelton, an Illinois native who was the champion of Midwestern promotion Caged Aggression, pretty much came out of nowhere to go on a run through the show - Shelton was relatively unknown and seeded at number fifteen, and then just used his athleticism and a high-level wrestling and grappling game to impress time in and time out, even going close enough with Elliott that the decision easily could've gone the other way and sent Elliott to the finals. It's a hard one to call, but as a general rule, it's better to go off of pre-TUF resumes rather than the results during the season, which can be a bit fluky, so for that reason I favor Pantoja to get a decision, since he has more experience and a better camp behind him. But Shelton's gotten here by outdoing expectations time after time, so him doing so once more is entirely possible. J.C. Cottrell (17-4 overall, 0-1 UFC, 1-0 Bellator) vs. Jason Gonzalez (10-3 overall, 0-1 UFC): Somewhat surprisingly, this is the one clear fight on the card that's between two guys that are definitely on the cut line, as both lost their UFC debuts in rather one-sided fashion after coming in as injury replacements. Oklahoma's J.C. Cottrell stepped in on short notice and lost to Michel Prazeres via decision on the Holm/Shevchenko card this past summer; Cottrell's game is typically built around using his wrestling to set up spots where he can jump onto a submission, but I'm not really sure it'll work at a UFC level, and Cottrell looks like the sort of "quadruple-A" fighter who can take care of a lot of guys in smaller promotions but will struggle on a major stage. On the other side of things, we have California's Jason Gonzalez, who came in with a little bit of hype after a decent stint on TUF 22 and a career as a finishing machine on smaller shows - Gonzalez is a gigantic lightweight with knockout power, and has a pretty dangerous submission game to boot. But he got shockingly knocked out in the first round by Drew Dober at UFC 203, casting into doubt exactly how much success Gonzalez will have, since Dober isn't exactly a knockout artist. Still, he's impressed me more than Cottrell, so I'll say Gonzalez gets the second-round knockout, though it's hard to have a ton of confidence in either guy at the moment.

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