B.J stares at a cap he was given at one point by one of his friends. Safe to say, most of Berlin's underground hideout-- And eventually the submarine they managed to get away with, either snickered at him or had a look of confusion.
...The fuck is a foxy grandpa?
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...What's a kid doing around an evil, EVIL man?
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"Anyone mind telling me what the hell is it with sending people to Brazil?"
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Oh... Okay. B.J got bodied by a bread monster... And placed right below a goddamn jar.
At least he's in top 10, and he FINALLY can catch a break. What a doozy, this tourney was.
"Enjoying that *loss*, Blazkowicz?"
"Says the one who died with a jar being involved. It's a good thing we didn't."
"Silence, Slayer."
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"Oh, come on, old man!!"
"Where else didya get yer deadliness from, son?"
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"...I know it's a competition, but this sounds like I'm getting bullied at any chance some folks got."
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Fuck. He misses eating s'mores now.
Meanwhile...
B.J's losing his edge in combat. Sadly, it came natural with age.
How does he even manage to survive thus far...?
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...Ice cream trucks crushing contestants? What the fuck?
Same, great grandson. Same.
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"A jar of dirt was involved in taking down Davoth? On day one?? That's some crazy shit, but it puts a smile on me otherwise."
"Don't forget that you might still be infected, gramps. Focus on healing." That said... "I can't believe he choked a GIRL though. And not to mention probably being an adopted daughter of sorts."
"So much for the Ruler of Hell gig, huh?"
Uh oh, he's ANGRY.
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"...Why can't I shake the feeling that participating in this here contest will be a massive clusterfuck?"
"It is how it is. Gotta deal with what comes next, gramps."
"As long as that bastard over there doesn't win. Or at least, stay alive for long."
That's the one. The bastard B.J talks about. Davoth doesn't say anything-- But he has plans. Evil plans.
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B.J is tempted to come over there and land his fist on Davoth's face, if only to just break his eye contact.
His descendant shares that thought.
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...That jar's got a chair instead of him???
He's fucked. Ain't no damn snowball's chance in Hell he's gonna survive a chair fight, even with something so ridiculous as a jar getting one.
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Soldier gotta do what soldier does best. But at what cost?
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...B.J cannot help but stare at a jar where it wasn't even there before. Don't tell him he's dealing with Da'at Yichud-level of weirdness. (Of course that is a joke, but again... He's still a tad suspicious of it.)
Also: What the hell is it with flying ice cream trucks running people over and some still surviving that?
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Such an odd request to keep watch while falling asleep by a fellow contestant...
Well, at least B.J gets a reprieve from the weird shit that got thrown at him so far.
The Slayer is puzzled by this package arrival. Are the sponsors unaware that he no longer requires food to live and have his body function properly? (Though, he still does eat to remind him of his humanity. He misses being just a human and not having the burdens of a demigod...)
Oh well, he might give the soup MRE pack(s) to someone else who needs it more after this... Granted that he wins, anyway.
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First he got a wound infection, now this?
The Slayer has the 'I know a snitch when I see one' vibes while striking up a conversation with Guy.
"Hold your position, son. We got an eavesdropper. Lemme deal with 'em."
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