And that's it for the first round of Bracket A! When we come back this way again, we will see fights between The Master and Spike, and Angel and Damon. But before that can happen, we move on to the preliminary round of Bracket B.
Our first fight here is between Eric Northman of True Blood and David (last name unknown) of everyone's favourite 80s vamp-fest The Lost Boys ... a film which featured not only a very young Kiefer Sutherland in his perennial bad-boy role (really, David is just Ace Merrill from Stand By Me with a worse haircut and fangs), but also both of the Coreys. Not having seen the movie since it was actually in the theatres, I watched about two-thirds of it online last week, and realized three things: (1) Kiefer's voice in that film is unrecognizable—it has no gravel in it whatsoever, (2) it's always a pleasant surprise to see the various parts Edward Herrmann aka Richard Gilmore shows up in, and (3) fashion in the 80s was really just embarrassing. (This last one was really less of a realization than a reaffirmation).
This fight, by the way, is a total hat-tip to Mark of Polivision. His idea for how this should go was too good not to steal.
Eric won the coin toss, so this fight will take place in the Louisiana bayou ... um, pretty far away from where Lestat's and Damon's took place, I am sure.
HOW I THINK THIS FIGHT WILL GO:
Eric Northman waits for his opponent on a high bank that slopes away into the swamp's murk. He is alive to the bayou's teeming life, thousands of little thoughts and heartbeats and fears and hungers that are like a hum at the edge of his senses. He smells the cigarette David smokes long before he sees him.
David enters from the dense forest into the clearing, looking around in distaste. Eric smiles.
"You do not care for our setting?" he asks.
"I'm from California," David sneers. "Ocean, beaches, open highway. I don't know how you live here."
"No, I imagine you don't," Eric replies evenly. "You are still young. You have not learned. It is a shame I will have to put an end to you."
"You're confident for a guy with a girl's haircut."
Eric cocks his head, almost quizzically. "I believe the expression is 'glass houses,' my friend."
David is about to respond when a loud, metallic buzzing noise disturbs the heavy air. Eric frowns, patting his hands over his pockets, and retrieving a cell phone.
"I didn't realize I was carrying this," he says, perplexed. "Hello? Um ... what?" He looks across at David. "Yes ... yes, I suppose so." He holds the phone out. "I think it is for you."
David gingerly holds the phone to his ear. "What?"
"Jack, this is Chloë. Listen carefully, I don't—"
"Who the hell is Jack? My name is David, lady."
"Jack, David, whatever. It doesn't matter. I've pulled up this guy Eric's record on—"
"Lady, I don't know who the hell you are or what you want, I don't know who this Jack asshole is, and I'm about to fight someone, so if you don't mind—"
"I know you're about to fight someone, Jack—"
"Whatever! Look, this guy Eric is pretty tough, but I've found out that his weakness is—"
Plop. Glug. Chloë's last words are lost as David pitches the phone into the swamp. Eric watches it sink, his brow furrowed.
"That was my phone!" He pauses. "I think."
"Doesn't matter. You're going to be dead in a few minutes, so don't worry." David advances on Eric.
"No. I think not."
David does not even see Eric move. He feels a massive blow to his chest, and is suddenly flat on his back. He springs up, but Eric is nowhere to be seen.
"As I said," his voice says in David's ear, "you are young."
David spins, swinging his fist into empty air. He sees a blur of motion, and is pinned to the trunk of a massive, bearded tree. Eric holds him by the neck, and the other hand plunges a sharpened stick into David's chest.
He just has time to think that perhaps he should have listened to that Chloë person after all.
Projected Winner: ERIC NORTHMAN