Seeing Stars

The screen flickered back to life, the arena lights pulsing in time with the music.

“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen... to the 43rd Annual Pulleytown Flex-Off!” the host’s voice boomed over the roar outside. “If you’re just joining us, you’ve missed one of the wildest opening rounds in the history of the competition! We started this morning with one hundred and twenty one competitors, and you wouldn't believe this, a newcomer actually earned a perfect 50 score beating last year's champion by 0.1!"

He continued on. "We have moved on to the finals with the top ten competitors, three of which have already been sent packing after an oil-slick disaster, a glitter storm, and one unfortunate wardrobe we’re still reviewing for style points.”

A laugh track played in the background. The camera cut between replay clips: Gus slipping, Randy sparkling in a cloud of glitter, and Birdman being escorted offstage in protest after the results.

“But now, seven finalists remain,” the host continued, his tone climbing. “They’ve gotten re-oiled, re-hydrated, and they’re ready to face the heat once more!”

Spotlights began sweeping the stage again, lighting each contestant one by one like an intro montage.

“We have the returning powerhouse who took second last year, The Titaness!”

Cheers roared and cameras flashed. The Titaness raised a single arm and flexed her bicep like a warrior goddess.

“Triple Impact is a crowd favorite for their insane creativity!”

They struck their synchronized POW-POP-ZAP move, the main man showing off his impressive back. The crowd screamed in delight.

“And of course we have last year’s champion. Give it up for the man, the myth, the muscle, Riiiicoooooooo!”

The crowd erupted in near-hysteria, chanting his name in rhythm.

“...and the challenger who stunned the world with a perfect score in the open bracket, we have The Cheesemonger of Gloryhollow!”

Another explosion of applause followed, so loud the cameras visibly shook. The ground they stood on actually felt it, too. Bart raised kissed is index and middle finger, raising them modestly to the crowd like a boxer acknowledging his fans.

The camera panned briefly across the audience, catching faces mid-cheer. In the front row pressed up against the guardrail, Willow was on her feet waving a handmade sign that read “CHEESEMONGER SUPREMACY” in uneven lettering. The cardboard was drawn with all of the markers that could squeeze out enough to write.

Next to her was her beastfolk friend Parfa, a catgirl with red hair and fluffy ears. Actually, she was more of a cat woman, maybe even grandma given her aging appearance. Parfa had acquired a second drink and a foam finger that said #1 Titaness Fan, which she alternated between waving and accidentally whacking nearby spectators with. Willow was on the tail end of the finger and her own tail, too.

“Parfa, you can’t just root for everyone!” Willow hissed.

“Aye, sure I can! Equal opportunity, equal appreciation!” Parfa shouted over the crowd.”

The camera caught them mid-argument, and for a brief, shining second, the broadcast cut to their bickering faces before someone realized and switched away.

“Wait, was that us?” Willow blinked.

“You’re famous now, Willow!” Parfa cheered, clinking her cup against hers. “Drink to that!”

Willow buried her face in her sign.

“And don’t count out our newcomers Starfall, Craig the Contender, and The Man of the Painted Mountain! This is going to be one exciting second round of the finals!”

A loud cheer and some laughter rippled through the stands. Joren smiled awkwardly as his cheeks went pink, caught in the absurdity of hearing his name, or rather nickname, in that lineup.

Craig looked confused at his introduction because he never had a strange title in his name, apparently the host actually added it for flair since Craig was too mundane. Craig truly was a lost puppy out there.

“Round two begins now!” the host declared, raising his fist to the air. “Let's start with the side profile!”

The Titaness stepped forward first, a wall of muscle and scary aura. She turned her body with perfect control, her side profile sending shivers of fear and awe down the audience's backs. The crowd gasped, too stunned to move. She exhaled slowly, one arm bent to show her tricep’s curve, her other hand poised near her hip. When she stepped back, applause erupted like thunder.

Next came Triple Impact. The main man took the front while the two caped assistants did a cartwheel, but one fatal error occurred as one of the assistants clipped the leg of the other, sending them both tumbling into a mess. “POW! POP! ZAP!” they yelled in unison, trying to play if off as they regained composure.

The crowd loved it, though the tumble left the other red in the face and clutching his cape to avoid breaking down and crying. Still, the audience cheered for them anyways. Even when they were chaotic and made errors, they were entertaining nonetheless.

Then came Joren.

He took a breath and stepped forward. He turned carefully, focusing on his breathing. He went with the same poses as the Titaness, but finished with the other move he practiced all of last night where he held the world.

This time, he took it a step further and experimented with actually filling in the space with one of his stars. As if he were carrying a boulder up a mountain on his back, he started to create the star behind him, but it only appeared as a tenth of the amount of space needed. The audience murmured in awe, flashes from cameras flickering like fireflies. It was lacking and it looked pitiful, but it was his own move, one that he practiced his heart out for.

"That's my other friend, Parfa. His name is Joren!" Willow exclaimed.

"Warta yer sayin' Willoooow?" Parfa responded. "That's uh... Starfall, didn'cha hear the announcer earliiier?"

“His name is Joren, Parfa.” Willow said, looking exasperated by Parfa.

Parfa squinted at the stage, tail flicking lazily back and forth as she leaned over the railing, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the cup. “That’s the lad with the floaty things, right? Looks like he’s holdin’ a candle on his back.”

Willow groaned, sinking into her seat. “He’s trying, okay? Stars are heavy, I think, so he is just showing some restraint.”

“Ahh, restraint,” Parfa said, nodding solemnly before taking another big swig. “That’s when you don’t flex so hard you pop a vein, aye?”

Willow could only groan.

Back on stage, the rest of the competition was finishing up their performances. Bart and Rico once again drew more applause and gasps, far more then everyone else.

The host’s voice rang out again. “Round twoooooo… complete!”

A drum roll rattled through the arena from somewhere.

“Eliminated this round we have Triple Impact," He paused for dramatic effect. "and Starfall!”

The crowd gave a sympathetic round of applause, though a few cheers came from the front rows where Joren spotted Willow standing and waving both arms.

“Yeah, that’s right! You showed gravity who’s boss, Starboy!” she shouted, earning a few laughs from nearby spectators.

Parfa lifted her cup again and slurred, “To the fallen star! Burned bright ‘n strong before crashin’ straight into second place, or y’know, seventh.”

Joren's face went bright red, clearly embarrassed. It felt like when your parents cheer loudly after you missed every note in a school solo, encouraging but deeply unhelpful.

The host’s voice boomed again as the lights swept the stage.“Let’s give a round of applause to our eliminated competitors, folks! Triple Impact amazed us, literally, but you’ve got to love that energy! And Starfall, the crowd’s cosmic favorite, what a show of originality! Too bad that star wasn’t bigger, now that would be impressive!”

Joren made his way offstage in a more graceful manner than the Birdman did, his whole body still tight from the posing. The noise of the crowd softened into a dull roar behind him, now hearing the mechanical hum of the overhead backstage fans. He exhaled loudly. Losing didn’t sting as much as he expected, it was almost a relief, actually.

A stagehand spotted Joren as he made his way back through and notified him that contestants who were eliminated had the opportunity to continue watching the show in their own private section if they wanted, which Joren decided was a good idea. It gave him the chance to see Bart in the final round and probably get back to Gus. He hoped he would be out there too.

Joren followed the stagehand through a hallway he hadn't seen earlier that curved around the back of the main stage, the rumble of the audience growing louder with each turn.

The “private section” turned out to be a small area in front of the audience guardrail with some cheap folding chairs and no shade. Gus was already there, slumped over the chair sideways and snacking on something wrapped in foil.

“Hey, Starboy,” Gus said, grinning through his food. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

Joren slumped into a chair beside him, still half-sad. “Guess we’re both spectators now. Still can't believe you fell, though.”

“Best seats in the house, I just wanted to get here early, ya know?” Gus replied, gesturing toward the view of the stage.

Somewhere else in the broadcasting building, Nars adjusted his headset. “What a wild second round, folks. Seven came in, only five walk away. And what a story from Starfall, a rookie, unpredictable, and honestly I didn’t expect that kind of showing from a first-timer.”

Trant nodded, tapping his pen on the desk. “Yeah, the kid had heart. You can tell he’s trained with someone who knows their stuff. Shame about that finish, though. He looked like he tried to make the sun itself a prop.”

Nars laughed. “He might’ve burned off a few eyebrows in the front row, but that’s what makes it great! Unpolished like bronze before it’s buffed, just waiting to show real beauty.”

“Speaking of buffed,” Trant said, adjusting himself in his seat, “how about that showdown brewing between Cheesemonger and the champ? You could feel it even from here. Two titans, one stage, one winner.”

Nars smirked. “That’s right, Trant. It’s not just muscles anymore, it’s mythological gods duking it out. The Cheesemonger’s got the crowd, but Rico’s got the record. Something’s gotta give.”

Trant leaned toward the camera. “And don’t sleep on The Titaness either, she’s been building momentum all day. If anyone can compete for the top spot between those two, it’s her.”

“True,” Nars said. “She’s got the discipline, the form, and let’s not forget, a fanbase across the globe.”

They both chuckled as a replay graphic popped up on the lower third of the broadcast. Slow-motion footage rolled of Gus slipping, Craig blinking at the camera like an animal, and Bart’s symmetrical pose sending the audience into tears and prayers.

Trant winced as Gus’s fall replayed in exaggerated slow motion, the moment looping twice for comedic effect. “Oof, yeah, that one’s gonna live on in the highlight reels for a while. I feel bad for him, honestly.”

Nars laughed. “That’s the kind of wipeout you try to forget for the rest of your life. Still, props to him for flexing after that, that’s commitment to the craft.”

Another replay filled the screen: Craig, looking utterly lost, attempting to mirror the Titaness’s pose, unsure if he remembered it correctly. The two commentators tried to hold it together.

“Look at that face, Trant,” Nars said between laughs. “That’s the expression of a man who’s wondering how he ended up here instead of a quilt convention.”

Trant nodded solemnly. “And yet, somehow, he survives. If there’s one thing we’ve learned tonight, it’s that confusion might just be the ultimate strategy.”

Trant raised his hands dramatically. “Alright, don’t go anywhere, folks because round three, the free pose finale, is coming up. It’s no-holds-barred, flex off for the top spot. Stay tuned!”

“Bart’s up next, right? Think he’ll actually beat that Rico guy again like the open bracket?” Gus asked, leaning towards Joren.

Joren sat forward, elbows on his knees. “If anyone can pull it off…” He trailed off, eyes drawn to Bart’s silhouette as he passed through the curtains, announced by the erupting cheers and whistles. “It’s gotta be him.”

The lights dimmed again, and the crowd began to stir, the tension rising all over. The finale was about to begin.