(Just gonna drop my version here. I’m sure people have done it already)
He stumbled through through the door, head still reeling from the dizzying hallways. The worn floorboards where illuminated by dusty light that filtered through half-closed blinds.
“Ah! Mr. Crew! So glad you could join us.” A tall and lanky man with tousled golden hair leaned toward Mike Crew with a too wide smile. “I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult.” The voice dissolved into a laugh that made his vision swirl. The man’s body stretched and distorted like it was in its own funhouse mirror.
“What’s going on? Who are you?” Mike demanded. He put a hand to his head and leaned back against the wall behind him. He could have sworn there was a door behind him just a moment ago…
“I’m Michael.” The man’s head bent to the side in more than a ninety degree angle. “And you are here at the Battle of the Michaels.”
Mike frowned and shook the last of the spinning from his head. He found that if he averted his eyes to just over Michael’s shoulder he could focus better. “Battle of the…”
“Yes! Since I am me and there is only one of me and me is Michael it only stands to reason that there should be only one Michael. So I’ve decided to bring all the Michaels here to find out which is the superior Michael.” He spread his hands wide to indicate the rest of the room.
Aside from Michael, Mike found two others. One sat in an arm chair looking fairly relaxed while the other was huddled in a corner with wide eyes.
“It doesn’t seem like very many Michaels,” Mike said.
“Well, they were all coming through my hallways and, as you well know, it can be difficult to find your way. I suspect that no one else will be joining us.” Mike made the mistake of meeting Michael’s kaleidoscope eyes and quickly looked away.
“P-p-please. I just want to go home,” the man in the corner hoarsely whispered.
“But Mr. Getty, we have yet to decide upon a victorious Michael!” Michael laughed again.
“If I could interject,” the older man in the armchair said. “I don’t believe I should be here. This is a fight for Michaels and I am not a Michael. I am a Mikaele.”
Mike sighed as Michael began arguing with Mikaele about the semantics. The air began to smell like ozone as his irritation grew. “Can we just get this over with? I do have better things to do.”
“Yes! No time like the present. Your weapons.” Michael reached farther than he should have been able to and gave each of them a pool noodle.
“Seriously?” Mikaele asked. “Pool noodles?”
“Precisely!” Michael beamed. “Once you are hit, you’re out. The last one standing is the winner.”
“That doesn’t seem so—“ Getty was cut off as Mike immediately wacked him upside the head. The man whimpered and dropped his own noodle. “I’m out, I’m out!”
“Oh ho ho! Straight to business! I like it!” Michael grinned and turned to Mikaele.
The older man sighed and slowly pushed himself to standing. “No need to draw this out.”
“As you wish.” Michael brandished his yellow noodle and engaged Mikaele. The man lasted longer than expected against the Distortion, but eventually, the noodle found its mark.
“Ah, as expected.” He settled back into his chair.
“And then there were two.”
Ozone filled the room as the walls began to distort. Doors appeared and disappeared with every blink.
“You know, I’ve never had good luck with fighting Avatars.” Mike struggled to focus on Michael’s buzzing form.
Michael grinned with too many teeth and started to move forward with uneven strides.
Mike couldn’t focus as the Spiral advanced. He swung widely with the pool noodle, but Michael easily dodged at every step. A possible opening presented itself and Mike dashed forward. His swing missed and the soft thud of a noodle hit his back.
“Aha! I win! I knew I was superior.” Michael laughed to himself and raised his sharp fingers into the air above his head in triumph.
Suddenly, a door swung open, slamming Michael in the face.
A man stepped through and looked around. “Wow! Who would have thought that door would lead out here.” His eyes fell on the crumpled form of Michael. “Oh gosh. Did I do that? I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Mike laughed as he tossed his pool noodle aside. “Michael, I presume?”
“Mike, actually. Mike Lebeau.” He scratched at his beard and frowned. “Uh, can you tell me where I am? I was just doing a stream and went to grab some snacks. I don’t remember my house having this room. Or being this run down.”
“This house isn’t yours.”
“Right, and what am I doing here?”
“You have just won the Battle of the Michaels.”
“Oh. Well. Cool.” The other Mike nodded with a slight frown. “Not going to lie, that cleared up practically nothing.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Mike laughed again and clapped a hand on the newcomer’s shoulder. A small zap passed between them at the contact.
Mikaele cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but I suggest we vacate the premises. I wouldn’t want to be around when he wakes back up. Also, I think this house has a spider infestation.”
