'Uhhh, that didn't sound so good.'

[I fear this table isn't long for this world. If you are going to insist that the positioning at the moment it breaks determines the victor, you should do what you can.]

'Oh, good idea. Let's go!'

Realizing that this match will be decided by an inch and is going to be getting cut off very shortly, Lucas musters up all of the strength he can possibly bring to bear, offsetting Miss Masher's advantage and even claiming a tiny bit of his own.

As she had been caught off guard at first by this sudden burst of vigor, her elbow almost lifts when she shifts slightly to attempt to reclaim her lead. Legitimately wanting an accurate result from the contest, she directs some of her force downwards to ensure she's pressed tightly against the table, proving to be a fatal decision for the tormented table, finally putting it out of its misery.

[Here it comes, farewell noble sacrifice, your efforts will hopefully not have been in vain.]

As 427 declares the unfortunate end table legally dead, Miss Masher's elbow drives straight down through it. The previously formed cracks split apart as if the surface is attempting to flee from her very presence, a biblical parting of the tides re-enacted in splintering wood and varnish.

As the majority of their exertions are opposing each other, rather than downward, the two staring contenders mostly maintain their position of grappling each other's hand without much change beyond their clasped grip dropping a rather short distance due to the loss of support.

To an outside observer, it now looks like they are sharing a strangely intense handshake while kneeling over a pile of shattered wood.

While this unintended destruction doesn't immediately end their display of strength, it is distracting enough that Miss Masher ends up losing the staring contest when her attention dips down to look at what just happened.

"Hah! You looked away first!" With his usual level of maturity, roughly equivalent to that of a grade-schooler, showing itself, Lucas's grin broadens further.

"Ah damnit!" Realizing that she added more onto her comedy of errors, Miss Masher's continued distraction causes her to briefly weaken her hold, giving Lucas a chance to forcefully twist her arm downward.

At first, he is intending on slamming her hand all the way down into the splintered debris. However, he remembers she doesn't have his enhanced endurance and realizes that the impact would certainly ruin her hand. Taking this into account, he immediately redirects force, pulling her back up before making contact.

The sudden shift in momentum combined with both of them releasing their grip results in both of them throwing themselves backward, landing on their rears a small distance out from their original location, using their flat-palmed left hands to help stabilize themselves against the tile flooring.

"Fuck!" In this admission of defeat, Miss Masher throws her head back and starts laughing loudly, shortly followed by hearty laughter from every one of the observing people nearby.

Willy gives a single excited bark for Lucas then runs in a small celebratory circle, similar to when he declared Jonathan the winner of the bizarre buzzing contest, though off to the side as the pile of freshly prepared potential firewood is occupying the space directly in front of him.

The only one present that isn't a part of the exultations is the diligent ol' service bot #18, seated in its enclosed service counter as it looks down at the ruined remnants of the ex-furniture.

"You have to pay for that table, that was imported high-end maple." After making its statement in a mechanical voice without any tonal fluctuation, #18 turns its attention from the trashed table over to Lucas, who is still sprawled out on the ground laughing raucously.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a minute. Eheh, I won and you know it." As Lucas announces his victory, he tilts his body backward, collapsing back to lie on the floor for a few seconds while giggling to himself before finally getting up slowly.

Having fallen back onto her chair noisily, Natalie gapes for a moment before pulling the pen back up into faux microphone position again.

"As the match has been interrupted by technical difficulties, the results are dubious at best, however, those in attendance agree, we may have a new champion in the making! Let's hear it for Xe-no-claaasssttt!" Making her final announcement, Natalie repeatedly slaps her desk with her free left hand as a drum-roll for the declaration of the victor.

Jonathan makes a whooping cheer before falling back into laughter, ending the recording and tucking his phone back away in a pocket, leisurely walking over to offer Lucas his suit jacket whenever he's eventually ready for it.

While Lucas is standing back up, he pauses for a moment to hold a 3-point pose, his mental laughter intensifying for a few seconds before he finally lifts himself fully upright.

Miss Masher is the first person to fall quiet, similarly reclining back to lie on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. A few seconds pass with her silently resting in this position before she brings her right arm up, holding it with her fingers splayed while she changes her focus from the ceiling to her hand. After a few seconds more of closely observing her hand from different angles, she turns her head to look up at Lucas.

"You... You spared my hand on purpose..?" As she questions him in a faltering voice, everyone has trailed off their laughter, now turning their attention over to Lucas, who was in the middle of dusting off the seat of his pants.

"Eh, well, Mark said it was a lot of stuff we're gonna break, yeah? I still gotta put you to work." After a pause just long enough to make a clever person wonder why he was hesitating to answer, he comes up with an arguably believable answer.

[Decent enough recovery I suppose. I'd bet Willy noticed something was off though.]

'Bah, whatever.'

Standing a few feet away from them, the unknown young man is still holding his phone up, pointed at Miss Masher lying on the ground, rapidly typing away on it while chortling.

Just as Lucas finally notices the stranger, the front doors of the I4 lobby fly open. A rotund middle-aged man wearing a brown tweed jacket paired with khaki dress pants storms in, his white-streaked brown comb-over disheveled from him actively wiping his sweaty head with a handkerchief.

'Eh? Why's that kid look a bit familiar? I could swear I saw him somewhere before.'

"TIMMY! What's taking you so damn long!? We gotta hurry to the interview!" He bellows out before even seeing where his target in question is even located, starting to power-walk his way over towards the young audience member once he spots him.

Startled by the sudden shout from behind, Timothy jumps with a start just as he was about to hit the button to end the recording. Instead, he ends up accidentally switching to the rear-facing camera as he drops the poor innocent phone. With a disheartening cracking sound, it lands on one of its corners on the tile flooring before landing display-side up. Hopefully, in the future, he'll invest in a nanogel case to prevent such a tragedy from occurring ever again.

If one were to look at the now heavily spiderweb-pattern-cracked screen, they would see a live-stream interface with a flooding barrage of comments, most of which are largely comprised of something along the lines of "Hahaha Echo's yelp just now was priceless!"

"Ack! Sorry, uncle Humphrey! I'll be ready in just a minute!" Spinning in place in a panic, Timothy dashes over to where he was previously filling out paperwork earlier to finish what he had already started before becoming distracted.

-----

Lucas kills this chapter: 0

Lucas total kills: 7

Lucas deaths this chapter: 0

Lucas total deaths: 10

Lucas current GDV: 8.98 (+.01 net change)

Lucas's fame level: 2.75* (Mostly just local)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 1.5* (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, looking down at the phone on the ground: Um, wait, you forgot your phone!

Willy, attempting to console Miss Masher on her loss by bringing over mini Mind-Flare for tug of war: Bark?

Lucas, annoyed by not quite recognizing the kid: Where the hell have I seen him before?

427, entertained by Lucas's frustration: [Do you want clues to try to guess? I mean, if you want to give up, I could just tell you.]

Author, trembling: Must... Resist... Urge... To... Describe... Uncle... Like... Used... Car... Salesman...

Mr. Quacks, disappointed that all of his potential viewers watched Timothy's stream instead: Quack!