The bratwursts had taken their toll on his body and mind. His shambling gait reflected none of the grace that was normally ever-present in his movements. Every step brought with it new pains of agony. “Bradley Center Bratwurst Barbarity” had entered its second portion, which consisted of participants running around the Bradley Center 10 times, in the winter, wearing only underwear.
Giannis was in the lead, having consumed his 10 uncooked brats before anyone else. Now on the opposite side of the arena, he could still hear the words of encouragement and mockery from Ersan and Zaza, words directed at the other participants. From what it sounded like, Johnny O’Bryant had gone unconscious due to the extreme cold.
Giannis ran. 1 lap, then 2 laps, then 3, he was still the only one who had yet completed the bratwurst section. The path to victory was assured, but he was slowing down. As he traversed again the path behind the Bradley Center, he saw a great cloaked figure on the periphery of his vision. Frightened, he began to run faster, something his struggling body was not prepared for. He stumbled, and fell limply into a snowbank.
He turned over onto his back, half-unconscious from the tolls of the team-building exercise. The cloaked apparition drew closer and closer, no longer a shadow in the corners of his eyes. In a delirious haze, he screamed out as the figure made its final approach.