The Gladiators of Perkins Moreau or PYRO-GORF

Elsha remembered how it had all happened back then. It seamed like a million lifetimes ago, but the dream was short lived as the metal faced megalomaniac entered her holding cell.
“We had it all figured out and you had to go and mess with things huh?”
“It is against nature Perkins, we have to die.”
“What is wrong with you people, we created a way, with the help of the Ficlinomicon that the artists of this world could live forever. And you went and messed it up. All we had to do was entertain the working class with our stories and we became eternal.”
“It’s not right Perkins.”
John signaled the guards to escort Elsha, and they walked into the stands of a huge arena with two thrones.
“Well i have come up with a new way to entertain them, please be seated my queen.”
“You wish.”
In the center of the arena were two patchwork looking abominations, and an announcer, “Today we have the frankenstienian battle to the death between Trafalmadorian_Sarah versus Pyro-Gorf.”
“John What have you done?” Asked Elsha.

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