As Tycho mentioned we lost another match this time to Amaze. We’ll have pictures soon and I’ll have proof of the story I’m about to tell you. Until I can show you you’ll just need to trust me. This is all 100% true.
When we arrived we were lead downstairs into a giant cement floored warehouse. Two tables were set up in the center of the massive space. As I rounded the corner into the room I saw probably fifty or so spectators holding up signs with sayings like “EAT OUR BALLS!”. I did not however see their team. Just as I began to wonder where they were the music kicked in.
A door on the far side of the warehouse opened up and a team of men in white polo shirts emerged. The one in front was pushing a hand truck. Chained to the hand truck was a huge man with his hands bound and a black bag over his head. He was screaming and fighting to break his restraints. They wheeled him up to the table and began to undo the rope around his wrists. Once his hands were free he howled like an animal and tore the bag off his head. He stopped for a second as if stunned by the sudden light. They placed a paddle in his hand and he stared at it like a murderer who had just been released from prison and handed a gun. Then he leapt off the hand truck and proceeded to run around the room shaking his paddle above his head and screaming at the top of his lungs.
I turned to an Amaze employee standing next to me. “Just out of curiosity, what number is that guy?” I asked. “That’s Gabe, he’s our number two. What are you?”
I didn’t hear the question at the end.
“I said what number are you?” he repeated.
I stared at the wild man my mouth suddenly dry. “Two.” I said.
“I’m number two.”