The gong's echo hadn't even faded before Blayzeon lunged, swinging his war loaf like it owed him money.
I ducked just in time, the bread whistling past my ear and releasing the faint scent of rosemary.
"Too slow," I taunted, rolling behind a prep table.
He spun, eyes blazing. "You think you can hide?"
"No," I said, yanking the tarp off my Croissant Cannon. "I think I can bake."
I loaded a buttery crescent and fired. The croissant shot across the arena like a flaky comet, smacking Blayzeon right in the visor. He stumbled back, swiping at his face, leaving streaks of crumbs on his polished armor.
The crowd laughed. A chant began in the back: "CROISS-ANT! CROISS-ANT!"
________________________________________
Blayzeon roared and charged. This time, I sidestepped and flicked a donut bola around his ankle.
It wrapped perfectly. He tripped forward into a display of chocolate éclairs, which exploded like sugary shrapnel.
