MOLE-ANNOUNCER's profound musical sense tells him that this soundscape is getting to be an issue. Between Just The Two of Us, Glass Shattering, the crowd's screams, MOLE-MAN's screams, his own screams, Danger, Danger Fontaine's screams, The US National Anthem, Entrance of the Gladiators playing just over that, and the 60's Spider-Man cartoon theme blasting from [i]somewhere[/i] in the audience, everyone's ears are on the verge of bursting and for what? There's nothing worthwhile to listen to here. And anyway, Just The Two of Us is almost done. MOLE-ANNOUNCER ejects the CD just short of the end, accidentally freeing Adnauseam and Guarantor at last, and fishes around in his mole-pockets for something else. "What are you looking for? I might have it," MOLE-TRANSLATOR whispers. "Dulmnfnt shmm'mn!" "The Ultimate Showdown. Yes, I borrowed that one, one second." MOLE-TRANSLATOR fishes around in his mole-pockets and extracts another disc, slotting it in directly to join the aural chaos once more. Old Godzilla was hoppin' around Tokyo City like a big playground. The earth feels like it's trembling, but that's probably just all the noise. * MOLE-MAN is having the worst day of his life. Between the pain, the audiovisual hallucinations, and the agony, and the delusions, and the rampant noise and flashing lights, he can feel himself beginning to dissociate. His consciousness leaves his rolling, flailing, roaring-screaming body, and tries to go home. The fact that he is homeless has never had less bearing to him. There are plenty of stories about freakish animal-people like him going on murderous rampages and razing cities when pushed to their breaking points, but even a werewolf wouldn't be able to handle this scenario with such blood-soaked dignity. MOLE-MAN's detached soul trips the alarm on a fire exit on its way out. The fire alarm merely melds into the existing blaring morass, but those paying attention might notice the sudden deluge of the sprinklers. * Gonathan, sharing a glance with ABBA, gets on the mic. "Uh," he says, not having had a plan in mind for what to say. "Who did that? Why are the sprinklers on?" Adrian gives him a look with a raised eyebrow. "Those come on when there's a fire alarm, Gordon." "Fire alarm? You mean there's a fire? Isn't that the last thing we need right now?" "You alright, Gloria? It's not like fires typically wait on our convenience. You know they didn't back in Dallas." "So, where is it? Where's the fire?" "How the fuck do you expect me to know that?" "Well I don't know, Alex, I just thought you might have someplace in mind. I'm rather disinclined to believe that there's really a fire until I've received some kind of evidence." * The remaining conscious MOLE-MEN, and several of the normal people, down below, are increasingly panicking at the repeated mentions of fire. MOLE-MANAGER, a being that has been both a MOLE-MAN and a normal person in the past minutes, is absolutely panicking. His wrestler appears to be astral projecting. The enemy wrestler is insane, unpredictable, willing to die to kill his wrestler, as implied by the name of that Two Graves move he supposedly just did. There are too many more wrestlers showing up to make shit get even worse. And the fire thing. MOLE-MANAGER was clearly in way over his head when he signed himself up into a career in wrestling today. MOLE-MANAGER, occasionally MOLE-MAN manager of MOLE-MAN the MOLE-MAN, overcome by stress, doubles over and begins to vomit into the pit in the ring from which MOLE-MAN had emerged. It's symbolism, see. MOLE-MAN coming out of that pit was what started all of this, so MOLE-MANAGER pukes back into it. If it's too complicated then that's okay.