Misinterpreting Jonathan's shy awkwardness as being polite, Natalie gives him a brilliant smile before typing away on her tablet, going through what little remaining work is left for her to do after Miss Calculated did the vast majority of it for her already.

If Lucas had noticed the slight hitch in Jonathan's breath or the fact his heart practically skipped a beat, there would have been a 0% chance of him resisting the urge to mock him right then and there, so Jonathan's lucky in that regard, at least.

Shortly after Natalie shifts her attention to a drawer she just pulled open and began rummaging around in, a different employee-only door than service bot #18 had originally left through noisily creaks open.

Now wielding a tall rectangular four-legged end table, it dutifully marches over and sets the fine wood oblation down between Miss Masher and Lucas, strategically placed at a comfortable viewing distance from Natalie's seated position. Ensuring that the poor doomed table's placement is secure, #18 shuffles along a calculated path back to its designated desk enclosure.

With no exchange of words needed, Miss Masher and Lucas immediately make eye contact, both equally grinning at one another, and then kneeling at opposite corners. Lucas takes the time to remove his suit jacket and hands it off to Jonathan without looking, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeve past his elbow, and bracing said elbow near his chosen corner.

Natalie slams a small static-shielding hard case containing a tiny blank ID chip on her desk next to her tablet, then blindly reaches around until she gets her hand on a pen, promptly grabbing it and holding it up to her face like it's a microphone. As she's winding up to begin her intro, Jonathan pulls his phone out and stands a few feet back from the ill-fated end table, directly opposite her, so he can film both of the participants while also keeping her in the shot. Smooth move.

"Iiintroducing first; in the red corner, everyone's favorite local strength supe, standing at a solid five-four with a mighty one-fifty pounds of pure muscle is our undefeated champion, Misssss MAAASSSHHHEEERRR!" As Natalie begins to emcee with somehow even more enthusiasm than the actual participants, she takes a moment to do her best to replicate the noises of a cheering crowd before continuing on.

"Iiintroducing second; in the blue corner, the new upcoming local strength supe, standing at, uhh, I dunno, I guess five-ten? Probably like, eh, one-seventy-something pounds, tch, way too scrawny, anyway, our challenger, Xenoclast!" Not even remotely hesitating to make her alliances known, Natalie gives far less enthusiasm to Lucas's intro, though Jonathan at least diligently does his share of mimicking a crowd of cheers on his behalf. Willy even throws a howl into the mix, good boy.

The one other human being in the room, that was previously attempting to fill out some forms a few stations over, has become far too distracted and wanders over to join in the fun. From a safe distance, of course. Pulling out his own phone as he walks over, the young boy looks a bit younger than Jonathan. He is proportionately shorter as well, though his brown hair is spiked up a good two or three inches up on top in an attempt to gain some illusion of height with the help of some mousse. Dressed in a fairly nondescript grey hoodie and sweatpants, his black face mask and too-large sunglasses seem like some vague attempt at hiding his identity, but it seems he couldn't bring himself to mess up his hair with a lowly cap to complete the stereotypical camouflage.

The guest appearance finds a comfortable location to lean against one of the supporting columns in the large front reception area, off-center enough to see the table but entirely in Lucas's blind spot.

With their introductions established, Natalie stands up from her chair and slaps her desk with her free hand, nearly smacking her tablet with her actions.

"Let's have a nice little one-fall competition, I'm sure everyone here knows the rules. Let's see those elbows in position and shoulders squared, people!" As Natalie eggs them on, the two have fully assumed proper posture and clap their hands together, neither of them being shy about their grip strength.

With the arm-wrestling seeming to have also become a twofold competition, including a staring contest at the same time, the two are grinning stupidly at each other as Natalie takes a deep breath before beginning her countdown.

"Ready... Set... Fight!" When she finishes the call, there is a brief flinch as they start, and the table creaks and sways a bit, but otherwise, there are barely any signs that they've begun.

'Hey! I thought I remember you saying I'd definitely win in a fight! What is this!?'

[...I didn't say how long it would take. Your endurance will reduce muscle strain, therefore reducing your fatigue buildup. And if it was an actual combative fight, the benefits of your enhanced endurance would be even more distinct.]

'...So you're saying we're going to be here for a while?'

[You're going to be here for a while.]

'Why didn't you say something sooner!?'

[...You fell for her trap so fast I didn't have a chance.]

'Damnit!'

[This is 100% on you. You can't possibly tell me that you didn't realize she was trying to pick a fight with you.]

'But... But...'

[Keep your butt to yourself.]

'!!'

Coming to terms with the fact he isn't going to get anywhere arguing with 427 further, Lucas tries to see if he can make Miss Masher tire herself out a little faster with a nudge.

As he manages to squeeze out a little extra burst of strength, there is a distinct tremble along the curve of his admittedly visually limited muscles, noticeable even through the sleeve of his shirt.

As her arm moves ever so slightly in Lucas's favor, Miss Masher returns the added efforts, the ripple across the musculature of her arm far more pronounced than his.

With their staring contest still at just as much of a standstill as their arm wrestling, Miss Masher chuckles with a rather questionable undertone, then strives to turn the tides further.

The tortured table protests loudly with another strained creak as she manages to push their locked grip barely five degrees into her favor, groaning a bit between clenched teeth as she accomplishes this small gain.

Letting her keep the small advantage, hoping to coax her into burning through her stamina faster, Lucas keeps them at a deadlock in this position as the surface of the unfortunately selected table begins to crack, starting from each of their elbows.

Jonathan had started holding his breath when it looked like Miss Masher was making progress, but after a few moments of the standstill, he was able to make a bit of a guess as to what was going on and relaxed a bit.

On the other hand, Natalie has gasped softly, now leaning forward as if the few inches would give her a notably better view. She softly mutters "Oh my god" under her breath, but thanks to how quiet the area otherwise is, Jonathan's recording is still able to pick it up.

[...I'm starting to suspect the failing point that ends the match won't be from one of the two of you.]

'Huh? Whaddya mean?'

As if in answer to his question, the table has begun splintering as the cracks deepen, and there are small craters in the wood beneath each of their elbows.

The unidentified guest seems to have reevaluated the risk vs reward of coming closer for a better look, a loud crack from the greatly suffering and trembling table serves as a greeting for his approach.

-----

Lucas kills this chapter: 0

Lucas total kills: 7

Lucas deaths this chapter: 0

Lucas total deaths: 10

Lucas current GDV: 8.97 (+.01 net change)

Lucas's fame level: 2.5* (Mostly just local)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 1* (Only highly paranoid people)

Jonathan kills this chapter: 0

Jonathan total kills: 5

Jonathan deaths this chapter: 0

Jonathan total deaths: 2

Jonathan current GDV: 1.97 (+.01 net change)

Jonathan's fame level: 1.75* (Just local)

Jonathan's hero suspicion level: 1* (Only highly paranoid people)

Supervillain social circle size: 10

-----

Little character theater:

Jonathan, much more invested than he would have ever expected: Come on, you can do it!

Willy, sitting a few feet back so he can actually see the top of the table a bit, but still has the worst view of all: Whiiine...

Lucas, contemplating hamming it up a little: I mean, I could let her think she's starting to win and take it back, that'd be cooler, yeah?

427, focus elsewhere: [I highly doubt you'll benefit from attempting any pageantry.]

Author, heaving a huge sigh: Ah yes, the biggest 'action' scene yet, a barely shifting arm-wrestling match... RIP me.

Mr. Quacks, live-streaming the match with riveting commentary: Quack!