The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across a quiet Los Angeles block, the heat rising off the pavement in slow, wavering currents. A basketball sat abandoned near the curb, and a car idled with its door hanging open, as if whoever had been there left in a hurry. The entire street carried a strange, suspended feeling, like something had already started but no one had caught up to it yet.
High above, a small black drone hovered in place, its faint red light blinking as it recorded everything below.
At one end of the street stood Satoru Gojo, hands buried in his pockets, blindfold wrapped neatly across his eyes, posture relaxed to the point of boredom. He looked like someone waiting for a late bus, not a fight.
At the other end, a screen door slammed open with a sharp crack that echoed down the block.
Deebo stepped out onto the porch and paused for a moment, scanning the street. His expression didn’t change when his eyes landed on Gojo. He stepped down, hit the pavement, and started walking forward with slow, deliberate confidence, shrinking the distance between them without saying a word.
Without warning, a burst of static tore through the air near the curb, and two figures materialized out of nowhere. Jim Ross stumbled forward slightly, catching himself as he looked around in disbelief, while Jerry Lawler adjusted his crown and blinked at the scene like he had already accepted whatever this was.
“Bah gawd, King! Not again!” JR barked, turning in a slow circle. “One minute we’re at ringside, the next we’re standing in the middle of a neighborhood watching this unfold!”
Lawler squinted toward the fighters, then nodded slowly. “JR… that big one’s Deebo. And I don’t think he showed up to talk.”
JR followed his gaze to Gojo, frowning. “Well that other fella looks like he doesn’t think this is a problem. That’s usually when it becomes one.”
Deebo closed the remaining distance and swung without warning, throwing a heavy right hand straight at Gojo’s head. The punch should have landed clean, but instead it stopped just short, hanging in place as if something invisible had caught it.
Gojo didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even shift his stance.
Deebo pulled his fist back and swung again, harder this time, but the result didn’t change. The blow halted in the same empty space, never quite reaching its target.
Gojo tilted his head slightly, almost amused. “That’s it?” he asked calmly. “I expected more.”
“BAH GAWD!” JR shouted, pointing at the frozen strike. “That punch stopped dead in mid-air!”
Lawler leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what that is, JR, but Deebo’s not used to being ignored.”
Deebo didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he stepped in closer and swung again, then again, each punch thrown with increasing force, each one stopping at that same invisible barrier. The rhythm built quickly, the impacts stacking even if none of them connected, frustration beginning to creep into his movements.
Gojo sighed, lifting one hand lazily as faint energy gathered around it, the air itself starting to distort. “Alright,” he said, almost to himself. “Let’s end this before it gets boring.”
Deebo didn’t wait. He surged forward with a burst of speed that didn’t match his size and grabbed Gojo by the front of his shirt. The invisible space that had stopped every punch simply failed to stop him, as though even Gojo’s technique knew better than to get in Deebo’s way.
Gojo’s body jerked forward slightly, the shift small but unmistakable.
“HE GOT HIM!” JR roared, stepping forward in disbelief. “SOMEHOW HE GOT RIGHT THROUGH THAT DEFENSE!”
Lawler slapped his hands together once, eyes wide. “JR, I don’t think that thing’s working anymore!”
Deebo drove his head forward, smashing it into Gojo’s face with a sharp, violent crack that echoed down the street. Gojo stumbled backward, his footing slipping as he tried to reset, and for the first time his composure broke.
He wiped blood from his lip, his expression flattening as the air around him began to warp again, this time more aggressively. Energy built in both hands, the street beneath his feet cracking as pressure radiated outward.
“You’re starting to annoy me,” he said, his voice quieter now, more focused.
He thrust his hand forward, releasing a violent blast that tore through the street, ripping asphalt apart and sending debris flying in all directions. The force distorted everything in its path, bending space itself as it surged toward Deebo.
The blast struck Deebo head-on, and dust and debris swallowed the entire block. Nothing moved for several seconds, but then Deebo emerged from the cloud, burned and smoking. His pace had slowed, but he was still coming.
“THIS IS UNREAL!” JR shouted, backing up a step. “HE WALKED RIGHT THROUGH THAT!”
Lawler shook his head, almost laughing in disbelief. “JR, I think this man just decided he’s not losing today!”
Deebo broke into a full charge and slammed into Gojo before he could react, driving him backward through the side of a parked car. Metal crumpled inward with a deafening crash as both men hit the ground amid twisted steel and debris.
Gojo tried to push himself up, energy flickering around him again, but Deebo didn’t give him the space. He grabbed him by the collar, yanked him upright, and drove a brutal punch into his midsection, followed immediately by another to the jaw. Each hit landed clean now, the invisible barrier gone or simply ignored.
Gojo attempted to form another technique, his hand rising again, but Deebo caught his arm mid-motion and slammed him down into the pavement with enough force to crack the concrete beneath them.
“HE’S BREAKING HIM DOWN!” JR yelled, his voice rising with each impact. “SHOT AFTER SHOT!”
Lawler leaned forward, eyes locked on the scene. “He can’t get that space back, JR! He can’t reset!”
Gojo tried one last time to gather himself, his hand twitching upward as energy flickered weakly around it, but Deebo grabbed him by the throat, hauled him up, and held him there for a brief, suspended moment.
Then he drove him straight back into the pavement with a final, crushing slam.
The street went still as dust drifted through the air and the sound of the impact faded. Deebo remained standing over Gojo in the middle of the shattered asphalt.
“BAH GAWD, KING!” JR shouted, his voice nearly cracking. “HE JUST DROVE HIM STRAIGHT THROUGH THE GROUND!”
Lawler shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief. “That’s it, JR. There’s no coming back from that.”
Deebo stepped back, breathing heavy but steady, and looked down at the motionless body for a moment before turning away.
JR lowered his voice as the moment settled. “I don’t believe what we just witnessed.”
Lawler exhaled, leaning back. “Sometimes, JR… it doesn’t matter what powers you’ve got. The biggest man on the block still wins.”
The drone hovered for a moment longer, capturing the aftermath, before its light flickered once and the feed cut to black.
Somewhere in time and space, in a dimly lit bar, a television behind the counter flickered as the feed cut out, leaving nothing but static.
At the far end of the bar, a man in a baseball cap and glasses sat hunched over his drink. He stared at the screen for a moment, then let out a satisfied chuckle. The man lifted his mug, took a long swig, then set it back down with a dull thud.
He let out a mighty belch.
“Now that’s more like it!”
The small black drone emerged from a nearby portal, and made a beeline for the man. The man raised his drink joyously, spilling some in the process.
“There he is! My favorite drone!”
The bartender behind the counter let out an audible sigh, clearly irritated by the man’s raucous voice and mannerisms.
The drone approached the man, making sure to avoid the liquid that was sloshing out of the man’s mug. The man pointed at the drone.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! That was one hell of a fight! Good stuff!”
The man looked down at his mug, which was now empty. He slid the glass across the bar.
“Speaking of good stuff, another round of the good stuff right here!”
“Coming right up, sir,” the bartender replied, a hint of disdain in his voice.
As the bartender poured another drink, the man turned back to the drone.
“Alright, what’ve you got for me next?”
The drone hovered for a moment, before turning around and flying off towards a small portal.
“Well fine then,” the man yelled, “I’ll figure it out myself!”
The man turned back to the bar.
“Where the hell’s my beer?”
He spotted the amber mug further down the counter. With a loud groan, he reached down and grabbed it.
“Guess I’ve gotta do everything around here!”
The man pulled out a tablet and began pecking away at the screen. He took another swig from his drink, then paused.
“Oh yeah, I’ve gotta write something for him, don’t I?”
He took another swig.
“Fuck it, that can wait. I’ve got a good one!”
He pecked away at the tablet screen. A moment later, two names appeared on the screen:
JIMMY NEUTRON
PREDATOR
The man took another swig from his mug.
“Just like in that article on A—”
Before he could finish his thought, a loud bang shook the bar. Nearby, two patrons had begun a rather violent scuffle. Chairs began flying as the patrons attacked each other, trading accusations and insults in an alien language.
The man turned toward the commotion, ready to tell the two combatants to knock it off. But after seeing a table quite literally disintegrate, the man immediately turned away.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna mind my own business!”
He chugged the remaining beer, then, to nobody in particular, said loudly, “Next one’s Jimmy Neutron vs the Predator!”
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