Hey guys, Prometheus here with our FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY – HUMAN BRACKET FINAL! Every Friday we take two of our favorite horror movie baddies and have them face off for your entertainment! I have designed eight-person brackets, each with their own themes!
So far, we have had the Icon bracket, Alien bracket, and Classic bracket! Today is the final fight of our Human bracket, HANNIBAL LECTER VS CAPTAIN SPAULDING! The winners of each bracket will go on the final bracket for the chance to earn to the title of FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY’S “King of the Monsters!”
Once that’s all said and done we will have a bonus Hero bracket! The winning here will have the chance to take down our “King of the Monsters” in an epic one-shot battle for it all!
If you’re new to the series, click here for a quick rundown of the rules! Click here to catch up on past fights! As always for the semi-finals and finals, intros for our fighters will be shorter where they have already been introduced.
Sophisticated, genius-level intelligence, extremely well-spoken and also a cannibal. Hannibal detests most people (unless eating them) but enjoys the finer things in life. Once a socialite in the upper echelons of the higher class, he was loved by many people. He is a master at leading a double life and is much tougher than he looks. He’s also trained in the way of the Samurai… seriously.
Also known as Cutter, Captain Spaulding is a straight-up, cold-blooded killer. He has no remorse for his actions and is completely out of his fucking mind. The only person he’s been shown to show anything even resembling emotions towards is his psychotic daughter Vera-Ellen Wilson, better known as Baby Firefly. Captain Spaulding isn’t in the best shape physically, but he’ll shoot you before you that ever matters.
“Lecter, on your knees and face the wall.” The cell door buzzes then slides open as two guards in riot gear enter. “You're going for a ride.” The two men shackle his ankles, then his hands. The chains are short and cold. They both grab an arm, jerking him back to his feet.
“Gentlemen, I’ve only just returned. Getting rid of me so soon?”
“Yup. Sending you somewhere you can’t escape from.”
“Well…” Hannibal smiles as he speaks. “Never say never.”
“Funny,” replies one of the guards. “Now get moving.”
“I’m afraid I’ve just eaten, sergeant. I don’t like to travel while I’m digesting. Why don’t you come back later and we’ll talk.”
The two guards look at each other before one of them, the older one, speaks with a sarcastic smile. “Lecter, move your ass, or I swear to God, I’m gonna taser you…”
He’s known Lecter for a long time. Guarded him for years in fact before he escaped. Over the years they grew not what you would call a mutual respect, but an understanding of each other. “…and to be sure you don’t try anything stupid this time, I’m driving you myself.”
“Sgt. Maddox, I’m flattered.”
“Yeah, well don’t be. They're giving me overtime for carting your tired ass over there.”
“Can I make a call first?”
“Yeah… right.” Sgt. Maddox laughs, turning to his partner. “Grab that mask over there in case inmate Lecter is still feeling talkative by the time we get to the transport van.”
A coldness comes over Hannibal’s eyes as he looks at him sharply.
“What? Too far?” The Sgt. laughs as he asks his question. “I know. You don’t like the mask.” He nods to his younger partner, telling him to grab it anyways as they exit the cell. “Well, you know what? I don’t care. Because you ain't eating me, Lecter. Not happening. The mask comes.”
They head down the dimly lit, cell lined corridor. The two guards each holding one of Hannibal’s arms as he walks stiffly between them.
“Oh, come on. You know me better than that Sgt. I wouldn’t eat you.”
“That’s really sweet of you Lecter.”
“I mean, honestly. What are you, 12-15% body fat? I prefer a leaner cut, no offense.”
Sgt. Maddox stops and looks at his partner. “Hand me that fucken taser, will ya?”
In the garage they fasten Hannibal in the back of the van, shackled to a bodyboard designed specifically for him and placed directly behind the cabin. “Lecter, all jokes aside, the mask has to go on for the ride. You’ve got company coming along. Cooperate and I’ll remove it when we arrive. Shake your head if you understand.”
Hannibal obliges and the sergeant places the vile mask over his face. “Now behave. Don’t make me pull this van over.” He turns back to the building and waves the other guard out. “Bring him out. Load him in and fasten him good, officer.”
The guard walks the man to the back of the transport, nodding to his fellow officers along the way. He helps the larger man up and into the back, chaining him to the bench along the side. His beard is grizzled and grey, his eyes are empty and cold, even as he smiles. “Who’s the fucking freak in the mask?”
“Hey? Don’t you think you’re a clown on the streets, Cutter?”
The man’s previously large smile drains from his face instantly. “What did you just say to me?”
Ignoring the taunt, the guard turns his back to walk away.
“Hey! I’m talking to you! You pussy, wanna-be pig, ape fucking moron!”
The guard looks at Sgt. Maddox and his partner. “You fella’s have a fun ride.”
“Yeah, thanks a lot,” replies the sergeant.
30 Minutes Later…
The road is long and open, going until it meets the horizon. The desert stretches as far as the eye can see on both sides. Heatwaves rise from the blacktop as an unnoticed scorpion is crushed by the spinning tires of the heavy transport van.
“So, what’s the mask for? You one of them retards or something? Can you talk, boy?”
“I prefer the quiet.” It had been about half an hour and this man hadn’t stopped talking. Sure, he enjoyed a good conversation every now and again, but this guy’s no conversationalist. He’s crude, abrasive, and probably has the IQ of a monkey.
Upfront in the cabin, Sgt. Maddox spots a car in the middle of the road. The van slows down, then comes to a full stop. Deciding to just go around, he pulls the van off to the side and into the dirt. A loud pop startles him and he reaches for his gun, unfastening the holster.
“Tire.” Says his partner as he leans his head out the window.
“Shit.” The sergeant pulls the van over. “Get out, guard the back.”
“Look, sarge. Fucking caltrops,” says the younger guard as he exits the vehicle.
“Eyes up, Officer Jameson. I don’t think we’re alone out here.” He walks toward the abandoned car, slowly. It’s a blue, 1970 something El Dorado. The keys sway in the breeze as they hang from the ignition. He turns back to his partner and shrugs.
Suddenly, the trunk of the El Dorado pops open. A man; skinny with a long grey beard and a woman; pretty and blonde, hop out immediately. Each of them waving two pistols. The woman yells excitedly as she points her two guns at the sergeant, who raises his hands in the air. Officer Jameson reaches for his radio, but she points one of the guns at him.
“Uh-uh-uh,” she says with a smile. “Now throw your gun on the ground to my brother. Do it, fucker!”
Officer Jameson does as he’s requested as the man; her brother, walks over to collect the gun off the ground. He places it in the waist of his pants and then looks at the frightened, young guard.
“Let’s go, motherfucker. Next to your boyfriend, on the ground.” He lies the two officers on the road face down. “Angel Baby? The keys in the van?”
The woman peers in the driver's side window. “They sure as shit is!”
The man fires two shots. One to the back of the head of each officer. Then fires off a few more, just to be safe.
“What the fuck, Otis!” Baby covers her ears as she yells. “What did you go and do that for?”
“They had to die. No witnesses. You know that.”
“Yeah, but you never let me have any of the fun!”
“Just get the door open. I’ll drag the bodies off the road.”
“You ain't the boss of me!”
“Baby, please. Shut the fuck up and get the door open.”
“Yeah? Or what?” She raises her gun in her adopted brother’s direction.
“You really want to do this right now?” Otis lifts his gun in return. Several moments pass as they stare, sizing each other up. Baby is the first to break and start laughing.
“Awe, fuck you!”
“You’ll never beat me. Just accept it.”
“Whatever,” she replies as she gets the keys out of the ignition. As Otis drags the two guards’ bodies off the road, Baby cracks open the back of the van.
“I thought I heard my baby!”
“We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“I heard your brother. Where is he?”
“Right here, old man.” Otis tosses the keys to the shackles to Baby. “Got them off one of the dead cops.”
Baby releases Cutter’s shackles and helps him to his feet, noticing the man restrained in the back. “Who’s the creep show?”
“Leave him here,” says Otis. “Fuck him.”
“I don’t know, the mask is kind of cute.”
“We can’t just leave him here to tell every Tom, Dick and fucking Harry what happened. Kill him or take him,” replies Cutter. “Either way, shut the fuck up and let’s go!”
“Oh, come on. He looks like he might be fun. Let’s take him with us.”
“Fine. You’re babysitting him. Get him out, let’s go,” says Otis with a scowl.
As they drive away, the sun gleams off the paint of the El Dorado. Dust kicks up from the tires, leaving a cloud behind them, and a patch of rubber on the road.
A While Later…
“What’s your name?” Baby tosses the guard’s keys to him, as a sign of peace.
Hannibal places the key into the lock on the mask and releases it. “My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
“Oh, no fucking way,” exclaims Baby. “Like Hannibal, the cannibal?”
“The one and only.” Hannibal’s smile is warm and charming, but his eyes are cold and barren.
“That’s so fucking rad! Otis, do you know who this guy is?”
“Hannibal, the cannibal. I heard him. He ate some people, what’s the big fucking deal?”
“What’s the big deal? He’s like a fucking celebrity!” She turns back to Hannibal who was sitting next to her in the back. Otis is driving and Cutter is napping in the passenger seat.
“I’m just saying I don’t see what’s so special.”
“It’s really more of an art than you think,” says Hannibal quietly.
“Hey,” replies Otis, “don’t talk to me about art pal. I know art. Fish Boy, now that was fucking art!” He pulls the car into a motel off the highway and nudges Cutter. “Wake up old man. We’re here.”
“We’re the fuck are you going?”
“I’m going to get some supplies and money I have buried. We’ll need it to cross the border. Plus, some bigger guns. The less you’re out in public the better. I’m taking Baby. You and… the doctor here just stay put until we get back. Try not to bring any attention to yourselves.” Otis tosses a key card to Captain Spaulding. “Room 110.”
“What am I supposed to do until you get back, huh?”
“Stay in the fucking room. We’ve got 45 minutes, maybe less before you’re supposed to be pulling into that prison. After that, this road and every other road in a twenty-mile radius will be crawling with cops.” He tosses a gun to Cutter then looks at Hannibal.
“I don’t use guns. I find them rather primitive and well, unsatisfying.”
“Suit yourself,” says Otis.
Once in the room, Cutter turns on the television and starts playing with the remote. “Damn scrambled channels. I think I can see boobs. What do you think? Are those tits or what?”
“Are you always this crude?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Captain Spaulding looks at Hannibal with anger in his eyes. “We just saved your ass, cock sucker.”
“That guard you guys killed. I’ve known him for a long time. Since he was a rookie. He was a good man, with a family. Always treated me good. He deserved a peaceful death.”
“You sound like he was a friend of yours. Was that pig your friend doctor?”
“Friend? No. It was more of a professional relationship.”
“Fuck your relationship and fuck you.” Captain Spaulding raises the gun. “You got something smart to say now? Am I crude now?”
“Yes, quite crude. Stupid as well. Is your plan to shoot me and attract the cops before they return?”
Captain Spaulding pistol whips him, knocking him to the ground. “I don’t need to shoot ya, dumb ass.” He hits him again with the butt of the pistol, splitting his head open. He swings again, but Hannibal manages to get his hand up, grabbing Spaulding’s arm.
As they wrestle on the ground the gun comes loose, sliding across the floor. Captain Spaulding punches Hannibal hard, then throws another blow at his head. Hannibal’s able to block it and roll Cutter off of him. They both get to their feet, but Hannibal is quicker.
He rushes at Spaulding, knocking him into the bureau. The television crashes to the floor, shattering. Spaulding hits Hannibal again but is clearly getting winded and misses his follow up punch. Hannibal capitalizes on this, sending him to the floor with a hard right hand to the jaw.
Cutter’s hand lands on a large, jagged piece of glass from the old, tube-style TV. He picks it up, concealing it under his arm. He waits as Hannibal approaches. Once close enough, Captain Spaulding lunges forward with the sharp piece of glass, jabbing it into Hannibal’s soft belly.
Hannibal slowly falls to the floor, but as he does, he slides something out of his pocket and stabs it into Spaulding’s leg, right where the femoral artery is.
Gritting his teeth in pain, Hannibal says “That, my friend, is an overly lethal dose of diacetylmorphine. Known more commonly as heroin, delivered through a makeshift syringe. I believe they are known as binkys.” He staggers to his feet as Captain Spaulding’s eyes begin to roll into the back of his head. “although I called our relationship professional, I value my freedom. So, I brought it in case I had the chance to escape, but you heathens took care of that for me.”
Cutter falls to the ground, his mouth foaming, his body convulsing violently. Hannibal picks up the television, placing it back on the bureau. He watches until the convulsions slow, then stop completely.
He exits the room and places the do not disturb sign on the handle…
OK, first of all, let me say I love Captain Spaulding and the late Sid Haig. He’s one of my favorite horror characters so this was a tough call for me. In the end, though, Hannibal takes the bracket. He’s too cunning. He wouldn’t travel without a plan and he would capitalize on any mistake Spaulding made.
I wanted to include Otis and Baby because I thought it would be fun, but I didn’t want them to have an impact on the outcome of the fight.
So, that’s it, folks! Hannibal joins Jason Voorhees, The Thing, and Dracula in our winners’ bracket! Four more to go to fill it up!
What do you guys think? Am I way off here? Who was your money on? Yell at me in the comments below! Next week I will announce our upcoming bracket! I’m still deciding so suggestions are welcome! No repeats and it must be horror-centric! Thanks for being a part of FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY! Until next time, keep on geekin’ on, my friends!
Joshua “Prometheus” Scafidi