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 Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 10:49 pm
A dazzling host in a white suit grabbed hold of a mic, his teeth sparkling. There was nothing left to their planet except for television, and the most competitive of all the shows: TOP PASTRY CHEF. To the death, of course.
All of the television shows were to the death, now. No one was there to save you if you got conscripted into their entertainment television industry. You had to win, or you would die. None of the competitors could see each other, or hear one another. They each had their own booth, separated by black velvet curtains.
However, if one watched the screens and listened closely, they could catch glimpses and snippets from the other competitors. Harland was poised over a bowl, his whisk in hand. What was a whisk even for?? Harland did not cook things, he was a toast kind of guy.
He'd love to learn to cook better, sure, but baking was definitely out of the question.
"And now... time for ROUND ONE-- cakes, cakes, cakes! Competitors... you have thirty minutes on the clock. I'm Roger Riches and this .. is..." He pointed at the crowd.
"TOP PASTRY CHEF," the crowd yelled in reply, and then clapped energetically. Live audience.
They started the huge clocks, which produced an ominous ticking sound.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 10:54 pm
Alistaire was disgusted that he had gotten dragged into this in the first place, and even less pleased that in order for him to keep living he had to cook. More importantly, he had to bake, which, while something he enjoyed doing, was not exactly something he particularly wanted to have to do in order not to die.
Besides, people's tastes were different. What tasted good to him maybe wouldn't taste as good to someone else.
Alistaire cast a sidelong glance at Harland, at the table next to him, and he felt a little sick. Harland seemed ready, though, and Alistaire held his own bowl in front of him, a wooden spoon in his fingers.
Roger Riches was enjoying this far too much.
"Ready...get set...AND GO!"
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 11:06 pm
Harland beamed at Alistaire, waving the whisk at the man. "Dia duit! Hey! I can't bake, Alistaire, so you should be safe from me," Harland said, beaming.
Which was a weird reaction, considering he was likely about to die. Which he knew. But hey, maybe someone else was even worse at making cakes than he was. Harland stared at the ingredients, and started to put random things in the bowl. Some vanilla (too much vanilla), flower, milk, eggs, baking soda, baking powder-- he added in green food colouring, and tossed the cake into the oven in three round pans.
He literally had no idea how much of anything to put in, and by the time it came out, it would look and smell a bit like it was made of muffins.
And yet, he had a cake, which is more than he could say for the competitor to their far left, who was dropped into a vat of pirannhas.
What would they have to do next?
Meanwhile, Harland was pointing to his layers of muffin cake enthusiastically and mouthing to Alistaire: "Look, it's green! For you!"
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 11:17 pm
Alistaire knew only one thing: that he was making a small pie, and that was about it. He stared at the ingredients in front of him and then flicked an irritated look back to Harland, his expression darkening a little.
"Don't be stupid," Alistaire snapped. "You're not going to lose."
Neither one of them was going to lose, not so long as Alistaire could help it.
He dumped some flour into the bowl, added sugar, vanilla (measured precisely), all the necessary ingredients. Carefully he whipped in the butter and some cream cheese, added some eggs and mixed everything together in a stainless steel metal bowl. When it was ready, he poured it into the pan, swirled it around, and pushed it into the oven with ten minutes to spare on the clock.
He looked at Harland again, saw the mouthed comment, and flushed.
"Idiot," Alistaire muttered, but it was less irritated and more of a mildly amused exasperation.
He tried not to think too hard about the piranhas.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 11:30 pm
Harland winked at Alistaire when he said they weren't going to lose. Who was the optimist now, eh?! Talking to Alistaire actually was making him feel a little better. He really believed they'd find a way to both win.
Harland poured a bunch of new ingredients into the pan, and tried to figure out how he could make this one green. Or festive.
Yeah, he'd make it festive. He glazed the crust have red and half green.
It looked pretty bad, but he was fairly confident it still wasn't the worst out there.
He looked expectantly at Alistaire, smiling. Making sure that Alistaire wasn't about to lose.
He certainly looked like he knew what he was doing. "Bet that tastes as good as it looks," he called out to Alistaire, sighing with longing.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 6:36 am
He pulled the pan out of the oven and set it in front of him, though he cast a sideways glance at Harland just to make sure he wasn't going to lose. Harland's cake was very festive, but it wasn't quite as good as a few of the other contestants; though perhaps not the worst out there.
Alistaire sincerely hoped Roger Riches wasn't looking too hard.
He spread a layer of cream cheese icing atop the pie and then sprinkled cinnamon flakes over it so that it looked like it had freckles. It reminded him, a little absurdly, of Harland and his silly freckles, and Alistaire looked to the side again, catching the other man's comment.
He flushed again. "It's not that great," he muttered, but the clock above his head clicked and there was a ding.
"TIME'S UP FOLKS!"
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 11:18 am
Thankfully, Roger Riches was apparently not looking too hard-- or rather, despite Harland's awful muffin cake pie festive debacle, there was in fact someone in their ranks who hadn't made anything at all. They'd spilled all of their ingredients everywhere, and then sort of started to cry, and produced merely slightly warm cake batter by the time the challenge was over.
Harland watched with sad eyes as he waited for the other guy to die.
As all eyes were directed on the loser, Harland didn't notice the guy next to him casually walk over as if putting something back on a display shelf behind them, and both drop something into his food and bump into him. Harland felt bare skin on his hand and arm, and looked over startled to see the guy apologize quickly with a smile and sneak off.
Moments later, Harland wasn't feeling very good. In fact, he was beginning to sweat and things felt kind of dizzy.
He glanced over at Alistaire, unsure whether or not the man was looking back, because his vision had become a series of coloured blurs. "Not feelin' so good," he mouthed.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 11:22 am
Alistaire felt a wave of relief. They'd both passed. There was someone worse than them in the competition, which mean that they were both going to survive. They could live another year, and it was with a sigh of resignation that Alistaire turned to look at the other man.
"Mr. Belle?"
He didn't remember pushing away from his own table, but a second later he was at Harland's, standing in front of him, reaching out a hand towards him but not quite touching. "What's wrong - "
There was a buzzing sound; the guards were drawing nearer, clomping towards them. Alistaire focused on Harland, his unsteady breathing, his unfocused eyes. He seemed deathly pale.
"What's wrong."
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