"You stupid bimbo. I didn't say you had to help me," Seed muttered as his still unnamed foe ranted and raved about numerous things, "I said we don't cause one another bodily harm. Which means no punching, kicking, eye gouging, ball smashing, tit-twisting, foot stomping, or any other sort of damaging acts. And, under no circumstances do we OH MY GOD THERE'S A FUCKING SCORPION IN MY EYE!"

Instantly he forgot what he was doing, and fell to the ground, thrashing about wildly. He caused all sorts of debris to fly into the air, from living to dead to somewhere slightly in-between, and the curses he screamed caused a person completely unrelated to this incident to fall down a flight of stairs (though to be fair, that guy was having a pretty bad day to begin with).

Though the beast put up a vicious fight, with much clawing and stabbing, in the end it was not enough. With a firm hand (that shook with fear and dread), Seed grabbed the damn thing and smashed it repeatedly into the cave wall. After the death bell knelled, all that remained of the epic battle of man versus scorpion was a slight mess on a cave wall, and several more cuts on Seed's face. He cursed, saluted his valiant enemy, and then turned his attention towards the darkness before him.

"Okay! God damn it! Tu me fait chier! Salope!" he screamed at the back of the woman. "I will find you, and stab you repeatedly in the ass...that's not a metaphor! I will stab you repeatedly in the ass with my sword...that's not a metaphor either!

At times like these, Seed always found it helpful to establish a to-do list. He was, just in general, a scatterbrained type of individual. Being such, it always helped to have a simple list to follow.

Step one: escape with life. Step two: get revenge on stupid girl who threw scorpion in face. Step three: beat shit out of man who set up this blasted tournament. Step four: avoid the ghost monster behind him. Step five: move step four up to step one, because that shit's pretty damn important.

Seed felt the wind leave his chest as he was tackled to the ground, and his lungs filled themselves with that stank air that could only come from some sort of science experiment gone horribly wrong. With a spicing of rotten tomatoes on top.

He twisted and squirmed, much like he had the first time. He even threw out a punch, like he did the first time, and cursed as he is hand suffered a sudden onset of minor frostbite. Seed then resolved that in this case, the best offence was a good defense. He covered his face, dealt with the scratches, and made several rude comments involving the ghost, its mother, and a broom handle.

Thirty some odd second later, the freak of nature (part ghost, part monster, all freaking annoying), vanished without a trace; Seed found himself knee deep in roach guts and some sort of wetness. He checked himself, nodded in pride that he had not soiled his pants, and dusted himself off as best he could. All he had to do was defend for thirty seconds each time he was attacked, such a thing couldn't be so hard.

In fact, things were starting to get better already. After he had returned to his base camp (where he had crashed), he found one of the fires still burning. On top of that, he found the stick of weed that had been brutally kicked out of his mouth by queen-bitch-of-the-universe. With a smile, he picked up the thing she had called a flare, took a hit of the drug, and marched onward. Ever onward, into the black unknown.

At least, that's what he hoped people would call it if they found his dead corpse. It sounded a lot cooler that way.