Zesty (Quinn - Italian Dueling championship 2022)

Head in hands, he could hear the little girls foot falls rushing all to quickly towards him. He let out an audible sigh and clapped his hands over his ears for a minute. Missing her first couple words of good morning he would simply grunt, and stare with bleary eyes forward. On his right Logan stood. He was tall, standing nearly six and a half feet tall with a dark red almost mohagony colored beard. He wore traditional duelist robes that form fitted more than normal robes ever would. His eyes however were distinctly shut, and it almost sounded like a soft snore as if the giant was still sleeping.

On his left Mpho stood, muttering what sounded like curses in the language that Quinn still had no idea if it even was real. Mpho faired the best, but it was clear he had regrets on his behavior and was no doubt stating words asking for forgiveness and good luck. He knew the man sent much of his winnings back, he had read some editorial about it once, though like their conversations he had only half paid t mind.

Once they were all around he would hear the amplified voice of the announcer one by one say their names and countries. Taking the lap, the mere 200 foot walk seemed like a mile. Once it had concluded he collapsed in a chair, and watched through blood shot eyes. Death would surely be sweeter. “Listen to him kid for me aye? Give me the cliff notes.” With that he would tap his ears with his wand and for all intents and purposes fall asleep just as the Monaco contestant sat next to him. The twerp has to be good for something, she could give him the high lights. It was surely just another duel after all, what kind of instructions could there really be?

Mimosa entered stage right, all cheery smiles and encouragement until she actually saw her contestant. The child's small face crumpled and her nose wrinkled. Had Quinn forgotten to shower that morning? As supporting and sure as she wanted to be of an American victory, it sure didn't look like it. The almost adult looked like he was half asleep where he stood and during their lap, she almost had to drag him forward and back, all the while casting envious glances at the handsome prince from Monaco who walked arm in arm with his dainty model, Isabella.

For the first time, the child wished her Jacques was here. he would never let her down unlike this smelly, unkempt mess that collapsed in the chair the moment he no longer had to stand. What was worse, he needed her to listen as he slept. Slept! He was sleeping when she had woken up early to get up and get ready to support him!

Were the child less patriotic or professional, she would have walked out, or started screaming. As it was, she still needed America to win, or herself to win which in this case meant helping this silly man win. So she nodded and paid full attention to the announcers who began to detail the complicated round ahead.

This round would be sectioned off in three parts, with only ten people making it through to the second round and then only 6 to the third. In the end, only four would remain to battle it out in tomorrow's final. Mimosa could see the pattern of elimination in two by twos. And it looked like this time, the models would do more than cheer.

For the first part, the stage was revealed once more decorated as a maze with three entry points. Each entry point would allow in four contestants who will then have to make their own way through the maze, fighting each other as well as the various obstacles in that maze.

he models, and here the child gulped as she lisened, would be hung over the maze in large iron cages, getting a birds eye view of all the contestants. As the tall cages were dramatically revealed, Mimosa found herself shivering in fright. Each time a contestant was taken out, their corroding cage would fall. The audiences were assured that there were enough cushioning charms to keep the models within safe but the girl had her doubts. Similarly, for constants who made it out of the maze to safety, they would be levitated up to their models and their cage would glow golden, denoting safety and victory.

The models were allowed to help their contestants only twice during the maze. The little witch paid careful attention to how she could help without breaking any of the rules before moving closer to Quinn. 'Wake up," she called, resisting the urge to grab a water bottle and throw it at his face. "Quinn, time to get up, the round's about to start." If he didn't wake up, the child would have no choice but to subtly kick him in the shins.

As quickly as she could, Mimosa told the blond about the round, the maze, the entryways and how the models would help suspected from their cages. The little girl could only hope he got all that before she was lead away with the other models to climb a winding staircase that led to the walkway which in turn led to her cage. A steel monstrosity with a dome decorated with red white and blue stripes. In the the middle of the cage was a swing where she would have t sit for the time until Quinn made it out of the maze relatively unharmed.

To her right and left were the Spanish boy with his annoying grin and the French models, Isabella respectively, seating neatly on her swing, completely unafraid of the height. A sick feeling was beginning inside the child's stomach. Today was not looking good for the U S of A.

A swift kick to the shins roused him from the company of the Mexican duelist, though this wasn’t near as nice of a setting as they had just been in. It took him a minute, but he tapped his ears and caught most of what she had said. Rolling his eyes and sighing he would stand up, which would cause a sigh and an unsettling in his stomach. “This isn’t dueling, this is playing a game....”. He would say clearly not impressed with what was probably a lot of work.

Tapping his hand he would cause a drip of cold water to collect in his palm before splashing his face. Each duelist watched or waved or hugged their model before they left, honestly Quinn hadn’t realized she was gone. Wiping his cheeks he looked for his spot and took up position.

The sound of the gun had went off, and soon the sound of what could be mistaken as gunfire was heard. 10 distinct pop pop pops electrified the stadium as his rapid apparition occurred. On the tenth one he would be further in the maze than anyone, however at this point he stopped and committed spectacularly. Shaking his head and wiping his mouth he’d stand up and opt to slow jog the next couple of turns.

In the distance he could hear the sound of bangs and other disturbances. No doubt different traps, or duelists dueling in the maze to weed out competitors. His goal was be done as quickly as possible, and recover for latter.

A sound like a cannon would occur at each victory followed by a shining gold light. 1....2......3.........4......5..............6....7.........8

All went off, and his steps became more hurried. He had overcome upside down illusions, a troll, dodged the curses of some Italian, leaped a spike pit, it was all very exciting, but mostly annoying. Sighing he would once again step forward to ten quick successions of popping sounds. At the end he would once again vomit but at least, with not as much gusto. Though this time it had been worth it. Ahead was three cages, two with bodies and one empty. As soon as he had looked up, hands still on knees a foreign language accosted his ears.

“Hey Frenchy...”. He would say to the Monacan duelist, he of course had no idea that was even a country, and honestly didn’t care. Thinking he’d made it easy as they locked eyes the distinct sound and golden glow occurred somewhere else.....9.............gazing at each others eyes it became clear there was only one spot left.

Standing upright he would reach his hand out after brushing anything off on his pant leg. “The best wizard mate, can’t say more fair than that.” Maybe it was honor, maybe pride or arrogance, maybe just reflex, Quinn wasn’t sure but the other contestant reached out and shook his hand. What an idiot.

The next crack was the last one. As far as precision goes, he felt he should get bonus points. Though the absolute blood curdling screams from the crowd probably meant he would loose points, though he felt, all things considered it was a pretty good move. The apparition was done in such a way as to take the wannabe French guy with him........mostly. He had splinched his competitor in such a way that for a moment before its fall, Quinn was shaking hands with a one armed, no legged individual floating, though gravity saw to that. 10 feet away a pair of legs stood comically before falling same as an arm holding a wand. He had done it to where there was no blood, no injuries, but it was obvious that the torso was out.

Flipping him the piece sign and clicking his tongue he walked away, tapped the cage, and said “long time no see twerp.”

Taking the sign that the twerp had started talking as a good time to pick at the contents of his left ear. Looking at the end of his index finger and flicking he would better be able to hear the announcer as the changes began to take affect. The glass became annoyingly solid, and the water started to trickle down already causing his shoes to squelch.

“A plan......mmmmmm a plan you say.” He would say with a thinking look on his face. Looking around he saw a lot of hard work going on, which honestly wasn’t his speed nor his propagative. Everyone was doing so much.........trying. It was disgusting. So often duelists liked to do things the hard way when nice simple spells would work. “My plan, is to sweat.” He would say simply before undoing his shirt and removing it.

The water continued and it was approximately midway up his shin at this point, which was fine. He made two quick movements, the first so fast it could have been missed. His wand lashing out, curling around and then being placed somewhere on his person. The second movement was slower, though he clearly moved his hands in a way as if he was carrying a hot potatoes.

Immeidetly their small glass prison would begin to heat up. The humidity alone destroying any attempt at fine hair styles. Steam would gush outwards from where the stream was coming down. His shirt or what was left of it stayed in the air, though now flowed red hot as if it had been transfigured into hot coals. The fountain falling on it turning to steam, making their prison into a sauna. The water level would instantly slow by about 75% as most of the water was in the air now. As for the wooden beam it had moved and snaked to form a comfortable bench along the glass walls. Taking a seat he would brush his hair back, his arms outstretched in the back of the seat.

“Take a kid off kid. You stress to much.” He would say before laying his head back. He could feel the alcohol flowing out of his pours as the heat cleansed his body. Or at least this was what he told himself as part of “guided meditation” or some crap that counselor had suggested. His ex-clothes and now red hot coals would start to float up, very slowly. Though the immediate chance of going out of the tournament seemed to have come to a stop. Their level was less than half at what some of the other contestants were dealing with and none of them had escaped as of yet.

When the child had asked him what his plan was, she had fully expected him to shrug and give up. Instead the wizard looked like he was in pain. If this was his concentration face... well, he could never be a model, the girl noted generously as her own eyes flitted to the other cages. Everyone seemed to have a plan except them. Or at least everyone was doing something, whereas Quinn simply took a seat and took off his shirt.

"We're going to lose," the child whined as she climbed up on the transfigured bench to get a better look at what everyone else was doing. Tapping a finger against the glass, Mimosa noted that it was indeed thick. Even the Spanish boy's battering ram wasn't doing anything. In fact, so busy was the little girl trying to think them out of the situation that she didn't notice the heat until she felt the make up on her face drip, leaving pale skin colored splotches on her velvet jacket.

Not thinking much of it at first, the tiny witch reached to remove the jacket before realizing where she was. She was a model on assignment, she was supposed to wear what she was given. She could never be so unprofessional. Even as her hair began to hang limp over her perspiring forehead, Mimosa searched for a way out.

"What about if you give me a boost and I unscrew the shower thingy?" she suggested, getting frantic as Quinn continued to lounge like he was in some kind of spa. Looking down for the first time to see how high the water was, the brunette was again surprised to see that their water level had barely risen while other people were wading in at least three feet of water.

Refusing to ruin her shoes anymore than the heat had already done, the child skipped on the bench all the way to where Quinn was sitting, pulling at his arm. "Quinnnnnnn, do somethingggggg," she screeched because it looked like her contestant had fallen asleep. And if there was one thing Mimosa Harrington could do really well, it was wake people up by being loud and shrill. America would not fall asleep on her watch!

“God you are a bundle of waisted emotional energy...”. He would say his eyes still closed despite her protest. The temperature in the box was only increasing, the water seemed to slow only because it was turning to steam faster. The bundle of old shirt had begun to float up and had grown hotter. Around them more and more raucous could be heard, as no one else had escaped yet. It wasn’t surprising, this was barely a dueling tournament, more like the plot of some cheap book trying to keep a series going, any second a super villain would jump out.

Another minute went by as he endured her protests and her attempts at doing something, patience it seemed was lost on the child. All around the water was about at chest depth to the other contestants, for them it was only just now at knee height. His own breaths were harder, as if he was drinking in the air instead of breathing. It had to be right though, hard to say how much magic vs metal was happening.

“Opening his eyes he could barely see from the steam. Their prison was almost opaque from it, and the hot coals of the shirt hissed loudly as it lay pressed against the opening for the water. Standing he would stretch and grab the girl by the scruff of her jacket pulling her down, and given the slippery wood causing her to fall on her backside on the bench. “Please don’t move, I don’t want to have to clean the mess.” He would say before his wand twirled from his belt. The bench would transfigured into something of a monsters maw swallowing the girl and cutting off all light as it encapsulated her.

The second flick would cause the coals to stop burning, and instead start to freeze. A sound similar to canon shots rang out as deep fissures ran through the magical barrier. The pipe which appeared to be metal even if magically created frosted and ran true through it. A second loud crack, and then another. Quinn appeared in the opening of the wooden prison, just as their entire prison exploded, putting to the test the barriers the protected the onlookers. A little science never hurt, even in a world of magic.

The wooden prison now retreated, and formed a platform with small stairs that led to the grass. There was a solid 10 seconds that went by before the next group escaped, then another. Well, at least they’d been first. “Try not to worry so much small fry, it’s not very attractive.” With that, Quinn would place his hands in his pockets and start to walk away, not watching who else was starting to break free. Taking a seat at the designated place, he’d lay his head back, and wait for it to be done.

Mimosa wanted to scream in frustration when it looked like the almost adult wasn't listening, but then he pulled her by her jacket and plopped her down on the messy, sweat covered bench, making the child wrinkle her nose. Though she did pay attention when he told her not to move. In the modeling business, positioning went a long way and as the bench moved and shaped itself into something like a giant barrel all around her, Mimosa scooted in further, bringing her knees close to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as possible. If her intuition was right, Quinn would be in here with her soon. It was a good thing he was nearly as small as she was.

The child had been right, just as it looked like their cage was about to explode, the American wizard hopped in and the barrel closed. What followed would be a sound that would haunt Mimosa for years to come. Cracks like bone fissures, splitting, crunching and shattering and for a moment, it felt like they were airborne in their wooden vessel. The little witch wasn't sure if she was glad she couldn't see what was going on outside or worse for it. Terror crept over her tiny body, rendering her still as the world outside shuddered and shook.

And then it was over, the barrel uncurling like a flower petal and steps leading down to the grass. Quinn, who seemed completely unfazed by it all, walked down the stairs while Mimosa remained frozen where she sat, unable to make her little legs move.

What if the world exploded again?

What if there was broken glass on the ground?

What if the stairs gave out?

Inexplicably, the brunette found herself wishing they were up in the cage again. It had been wet, steamy and uncomfortable but at least it had been somewhat safe. Quinn didn't seem to have noticed that she wasn't with him. They were the first team to escape their cage and he was already down in the sitting area, back to his sleeping stance as Mimosa struggled to make her limbs move from where they were stubbornly curled up in a fetal position.

She didn't even notice the next person to escape, the big African man dropped down from his cage with an agility that belied his physique. But instead of making his way to the stands, he bounded up the wooden steps to Mimosa, easily lifting her up in one hand as if she was a small bag of apples. Carrying her down the stairs and to the seating area, he placed her down beside Quinn.

"I believe this belongs to you," the contestant smirked before he too took a seat on Quinn's other side, his model following dutifully behind. Mimosa on her part still looked terrified but at least her limbs were uncurled now and she was siting professionally, one ankle tucked behind the other as she'd been taught. Quinn opened his eye as if just seeing her, muttered something about her being not attractive and resumed his rest. Mimosa nodded. "It's the steam," she managed shakily.

The tired person to join them was the beautiful Spanish girl with her annoying model, the Canadian being the fourth. The man gave her a kind smile and his model offered to help her fix her make up but Mimosa shook her head. She couldn't leave her contestant until the moderators said so.

In the end, only eight of the ten participants were able to escape, the remaining two needed to be brought down after the water had crossed their heads. In a final decision from the judges, all eight survivors were pushed forwards to the next round.

Both models and contestants were given a two hour break to recuperate from the back to back tasks before the third and final challenge of the day would be announced. When Mimosa was finally cleared to go in to make up and salvage whatever of her wardrobe she could, the child got stiffly to her feet, trying not to feel the nonexistant chill that still seem to be hanging around.

“Actually she’s on lease. Easy to make the mistake though”. Quinn would say looking up as the African man deposited the model. This illicited a laugh from the gentle giant, and a smirk from Quinn though it didn’t seem to make much of an impression on the girl. “You look like the sky was fallen, what’s wrong Chica?” He would say his face moving to half way of concern. While this wasn’t his forte her face looked like it had seen a ghost, and he was no monster.

Looking around he would keep his eyes on the other prisons. A second opened and the Canadian champion exited. The three of them were the first three out, that only made sense to him at least. Next came the Mexican beauty a mere moment after Canada. Her face contorted in a disgruntled look. Her disappointment clear from her body language and rapid Spanish scolding of the model, who for the first time didn’t seem so entitled.

He would move a little closer to the model, draping an arm over her shoulders, perhaps rougher than he meant. “There there....” he said awkwardly as several medi witches ran over and hustled the girl off to the medical tent.

“That was smart aye?” The Canadian wizard said taking the girls seat. He was moving his wand steaming over his clothes drying them off. Quinn will say shirtless, though he was beginning to feel the chill after the intense heat of his magic made sauna. “Well you know, gotta put that muggle education to some good work on occasion.” He said giving a wink.

They would continue to joke as the African wizard returned, a thick green salv covering the cuts that had lanced over his forearm. Sitting there the three would joke and watch as the final few escaped or failed. Just as Mimosa returned and the Canadian stood to give her the seat moving next to the model that had accompanied him, the master of ceremony stood his voice booming over the crowd to announce the finalists, and tomorrow’s agenda.