Ego and Testosterone

By the time Bart joined them from his gloating and showboating, it had already been five minutes after his scoring. They headed back down the hallway and into the contestant's quarters, passing by Rico who was clearly fuming. One of the stagehands began gathering the top ten for the finals run in an hour.

The finalists were herded into a smaller side room where the staff could discuss with them the rules of the second stage privately. It was a breath of fresh air from the hot stage or sweaty hallway they had spent the last three hours sitting in. The room was much colder, which made Joren shiver a little.

A woman in a white blazer, clearly the event coordinator, stood in front of them with a clipboard and a bright smile. “Alright, first of all, congratulations to you finalists. You’ve made it to the final stage. I’ll keep this brief, you’ll have one hour to rest, hydrate, and reapply. Then you’ll report to the prep corridor for the final show sequence to decide this years winner.”

Her pen tapped the board sharply. “There will be three rounds. Round one: Symmetry. Round two: Side Profile. Round three: Free Pose. Judges will score on presentation, precision, and creativity. The first two rounds should follow similar types poses from all of you, I expect that you know what those are.”

That line earned a few laughs, but Joren and Gus were completely oblivious to what she was talking about.

The woman kept her smile. “We’ve had incidents before, so you should brush up on the poses if you don't know them already.”

She continued, voice crisp as glass. “Your final rankings will not carry over to this stage, so you are all on the same playing field. One thing to note is that the crowd's response carries a bonus weight in the scoring process. Remember that the audience votes live, so if they don’t love you, the judges won’t either.”

The coordinator checked her clock and nodded to the stagehands. “One hour. Make it count. The world’s watching this one.”

As the door clicked shut behind them as they were ushered out of the room, the silence that followed was filled by nothing but the hiss of spray bottles and the faint squeak of someone cleaning a mirror.

Bart rolled his shoulders until his joints cracked, quite uncharacteristic of the image the group had of Bart up until now. “An hour,” he said, nodding to himself. “That’s plenty of time to refine perfection.”

Gus let out a breath that was somewhere between disbelief and fatigue. “So, coach... do you know those poses the lady was talking about?”

Bart smirked at his reflection. “Of course? You don't?”

Gus frowned. “No, that’s why I asked.”

Bart exhaled through his nose, as though disappointed by humanity itself. “Alright, gather close, my disciples. We can’t have you wandering onto the stage looking like frightened farmhands.”

He stepped into the open space between the mirrors, his bronzed skin catching the overhead light. Without warning, he struck the first pose. It was going to be another hour of Bart's absurd coaching, something they thought would never happen again after last night.

Somewhere else at the same time, Rico sat alone in his private room, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His bronze finish was already dulling under the harsh fluorescent lights. The roar of the crowd from earlier was still echoing in his mind, a stark reminder of his bitter failure.

A clipboard clattered onto the counter beside him. One of the coordinators tried to speak to him, but he raised his hand. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t tell me it was close.”

The woman hesitated, shifting her weight in place. “You still have finals. The score doesn’t—”

Rico laughed once, sharp and annoyed. “Finals? You think this is about finals?”

He looked up, the motion sudden enough to make her flinch. The mirror in front of him reflected a man whose perfection looked strangely human now.

“They gave a fifty to a jester,” he said. “A cheese man.”

His hands tightened into fists.

He pressed both palms against the bench and sat up, his mustache twitching somewhat. “Fine,” he muttered. “Let them cheer for their fool. When this is over, no one will even remember his name.”

“Prep the stage,” he said, voice cold again. “I’m not losing to a cheddarhead.”

One hour – The Hallway

It was finally time to gather in the waiting room before the finals would commence. The three of them made their way just to stand around, even so, they were the last ones there.

At one corner of the room stood the woman Joren had seen earlier who’d shattered a mirror just by flexing. Her frame was much too muscular for what he thought was a typical build, yet it was also somehow captivating at the same time. Joren was unsure how he felt about that. From what he recalled from the final names posted, her name was ‘The Titaness’.

Behind her a trio of men, or perhaps one man and two midgets, performed choreographed punches into the air followed by a loud POW! The two smaller guys wore matching capes, and the competitor's oily body glistened under the lights. Their name was ‘Triple Impact’.

Further down the room of finalists, the sparkly man from before adjusted his glittered, bald forehead with his fingers. He was so thoroughly covered in reflective powder that the hallway light refracted into miniature rainbows around him. His eyes were poised in such a way that he looked to be seducing anyone that would look his way. His title was simply ‘Radiant Randy’.

Next was a man who looked like he’d wandered in to the wrong event entirely. He was pale, lanky, and carrying a small book titled 'Flexing for Dummies', which spoke volumes to his inexperience. His expression was pure panic. Someone had drawn abs on him with a sharpie and covered him up in bronze lotion and oil. His number was pristine, but scribbled below was his name, which read almost pitifully: Craig.

Joren and Gus exchanged a glance somewhere near the back of the line. “How did he make it to the finals?” Gus whispered.

“Not a clue,” Joren murmured back. "I think the same could be said of us."

A few more stood between them and Bart, each stranger than the last. One wore plumes of feathers over his body, his name being Birdman. Another had his entire chest painted with a beautiful landscape, his pecs being a cloud and the sun. Neither could remember his name, he was only ninth place after all.

And at the far front, arms crossed over his ginormous chest, was Rico 'The Reigning Champion' himself. His body radiated intensity that felt almost unnatural, like they were staring at the sun. He stood there like a mountain, unmoving and unbothered.

Bart cracked his knuckles, his grin wide enough to make both Joren and Gus uneasy, or unsure since he usually had a goofy grin. “Look at them,” he said to the other two. “Each one’s got something that makes them stand out. The trick is to make them remember you.”

Gus squinted toward the triple-punching man and his two caped assistants. “Pretty sure that’s already happening for me, just look at those guys.”

Rico turned from his spot in the room once he realized his nemesis had entered, his massive frame casting a shadow over half the room. His gaze fixed on Bart with the fury of a man who’d already decided the outcome for the other guy.

“So,” Rico said, voice smooth but sharp, “the cheesemonger shows up again. You enjoy your five minutes?”

Bart crossed his arms behind his pointy head, feigning confusion. “Five? Please. I was being cheered on for at least twenty.”

A muscle in Rico’s face twitched. “Cute. Let’s see if you’re still smiling when we’re under the same lights.”

Bart’s grin widened, that dangerous kind Joren had learned to recognize as an oh no sign. “Oh, I’ll be smiling, the question is will you still be pouting when I steal your crowd again?”

"Oh yeah?" Rico asked, temper rising, "What makes you think you are some hotshot? You have no shot against me in a stage battle."

Bart tilted his head, his ego starting to show even greater. “Hotshot? My dear boy, I invented the shot that is hot.”

Rico took a step forward, the floor creaking faintly under his weight. The air between them felt electric, pure ego and testosterone swimming in the air between them.

“You talk big for a man who makes jokes about dairy,” Rico said, his words clipped, jaw flexing and his shades reflecting the short Bart. “Let’s see if you’re still funny when I crush you out there.”

Bart didn’t flinch, only brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Crush me? My friend, you couldn’t crush a wheel of soft brie.”

Rico was about to explode at that comment but was interrupted immediately before he could.

The coordinator’s voice cut through the rising tension like a knife. “Finalists, line up! It’s time to head towards the stage for the finals showcase!”

The room stirred. The Titaness rolled her neck until it cracked like a gunshot, scaring poor Craig. Radiant Randy struck one last romantic look at the mirror, to which he had to hold himself back from kissing his reflection. Triple Impact started chanting “POW! POP! ZAP!” in unison as if psyching themselves up for walking forty feet.

Rico gave Bart one last glare before turning toward the corridor, the stage lights flashing faintly at the far end. "Let's settle it on the stage, Cheesemonger.” He muttered.

Bart grinned. “Let's.”

Gus groaned under his breath. “He’s really not gonna settle, is he?”

“Not until someone beats him.” Joren murmured.

The crowd’s roar was rising again, ready for the contestants to make their way out before the show officially started.

Bart cracked his neck, squared his shoulders, and turned to his friends. “Alright lads, it's showtime.”

They fell into the line of competitors as the staff ushered them forward. The light from the stage painted the hallway gold, each step bringing them closer to the place where only one would be crowned the winner. A battle of ten would whittle down to the final three where they would wow the judges in one last pose.

Who will make it as this year's champion? Would it be Rico, the title defending champ? Perhaps the new favorite, Bart? The Titaness has a strong chance as well with her intense flexing. Joren sure had that wow factor when he showed off his mini orbs. Each contestant made it to this point.

One thing was for sure, this would be no easy contest.