Painted into a Corner

Trixie and her two companions followed the echidnas through the darkness of the underground tunnels for several minutes, before eventually the leader stopped and turned to face them.
"Now," He said, "Here is another hollow tree by which you may make your exit. Sadly we are not outside the Heptagon of Battle, but this tree is several hundred metres away from the edge of the paintball field. You should be safe for now."
"Thank you!" Trixie replied in obvious gratitude. "How can we ever repay you for this?"
"There's nothing we need that you can do for us." The echidna said. "But always remember, avoid the TULIP."
"Avoid the TULIP... Avoid the TULIP..." His fellow echidnas intoned, as the chief pulled aside another bark panel to reveal a cunningly hidden exit in the base of an oak tree. Moments later, Trixie, Dungay, and Pam were all outside and the secret entrance to the tree had been neatly stuffed back into place, leaving no trace of its existence.
"What on earth did those creatures mean?" Dungay wondered. "Avoid the TULIP? I mean, come on, who is ever scared of flowers?"
"Argh! Flowers!" Pam cried, just to represent the anthophobics of this world.
"I have a feeling the echidnas weren't referring to plant life." Trixie said, to a relieved sigh from Pam. "The TULIP is an acronym for an important set of Reformed doctrines; perhaps they were just concerned for our theological integrity is all."
"Terrible Unyielding Leg Impairment Program." Pam read aloud from beside a nearby tree.
"Well, yes, I guess it could also read that too, Pam." Trixie answered in a patronising tone. "But where on earth did you come up with that from?"
"Oh, nothing!" Pam answered enthusiastically. "Just this shiny spiky robot thing here!"
As often happens in stories of this nature, as soon as those fateful words had left Pam's mouth, the shiny spiky robot thing made an onimous whirring and clunking sound, and levitated several inches off the ground. The machine now floated at roughly the height of the human shin. A series of blades, drills, spikes and kitchen forks began spinning on all sides of the robotic creation, and a tracking laser shot forward out of its front side, until it hit a tree several metres away. With a loud BZZZZZZZZZT!!! the robot shot forward at a remarkable speed and ploughed its way right through the centre of the tree's trunk and out the other side.
"Avoid the TULIP!" Dungay cried, and without further ado Pam, Trixie and Dungay all ran as far away from the machine as they could.

***

Down underground, Krulnor and nobody in particular had reached the end of the tunnel.
"Well, I guess they didn't come down here after all." Krulnor mused. "This appears to be no more than a hidey-house for a slightly heretical group of spiky Tachyglossidae. Let's head back to ground level."
Nobody in particular offered no response, and followed Krulnor lamely back in the direction they had just come from. To be honest, nobody in particular had never been in an underground cave before and he was suddenly realising for the first time that he was potentially taphephobic.
When they reached the mouth of the tunnel, Krulnor led nobody in particular out into the light, raised stick at the ready. Nobody in particular let out a sigh of relief as he re-entered the forest.

Two seconds later, both Krulnor and nobody in particular were splattered with paint. The hillbilly and the goblin, though both very accustomed to being in dark and dirty places, had decided to hide by the cave's entrance and hope some prey would return to them. A simple strategey, to be sure, but in this instance, the perfect option.
A moment later, a group of Evanses appeared, to escort the competitors off the field of play, and to their various locations for the next stage of the game.

***

Back at Tribal Circle, Trixie, Dungay, and Pam were all seated comfortably on a set of bleachers beside a large, roaring fire. They too had been escorted there by Evanses, grateful to be away from the TULIP as it worked hard to level half a forest. Across from them on a second bleacher sat The Hillbilly, The Goblin, Randy, and Desmond.
An Evans in a bush shirt and some practical cargo shorts stood waiting in front of the fire as, from quite a distance away, the four losing competitors walked towards the fire. (The distance was so they could all be filmed looking solemn as they approached, and brief diary-cam snippets could be played to give the viewers at home the impression that they weren't all sure exactly who they would vote for.)
"Welcome to Tribal Conference." The bush-Evans intoned. "Not to be confused with Tribal Council, and certainly not in a court of law! Please, take a seat."
"Where do we take it?" Reginald asked, cracking one of the world's oldest dad jokes. Nobody laughed. "Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood."
"Tonight, the Spin-Off Games journey ends here for one of you." The Evans said, blatantly stating the obvious. "Once we are finished here, only three of you will remain. One person will be eliminated." He then looked solemnly at each of the four competitors seated before him.
"Taylor, what do you think your chances are of being eliminated tonight?" The Evans addressed the group's youngest member.
"Um, 25%?" Taylor answered a bit too obviously. The Evans turned to Krulnor.
"Krulnor, who would you like to see go home tonight?"
"Nobody in particular." Krulnor deadpanned, again ruining the dramatic moment with his strange answer. Clearly this group required some tutelage. The bush-Evans chose to move on to the instructions.
"Elimination in The Spin-Off Games Tribal Conference is brutally public. Each of you will be given one red sticker. In turn, you must stand and stick the sticker onto the person you wish to eliminate, before returning to your seat for a close-up camera shot. The player with the most stickers must leave the Conference area immediately and return home."
The four nodded. Games such as this were never particularly complicated when it came to elimination phase.
A moment later, each of them was holding a red sticker, and the bush-Evans stepped forward. "Reginald - you first!"

The Singing Detective stood to his feet and breathed out a brief ditty;
"Taylor, too young for me to choose,
Krulnor, too big - and I like those shoes!
Nobody in particular, sorry mate,
You're too much of a threat - eliminate."
Reginald stuck his sticker onto nobody in particular's shirt and sat down.

"Next - Taylor!"
Taylor stood up, and silently stuck his sticker onto Krulnor's tanned bicep.

"Next - Krulnor!"
In a clearly retributive move, Krulnor turned to Taylor and put his sticker smack bang in the centre of the young lad's face. Emphasis on the smack bang. Taylor's nose started to bleed.

"Finally - nobody in particular!"
In a piece of cunning strategy, nobody in particular stood, walked over to where Reginald was seated, and red-stickered the detective with a cool efficiency.

The four competitors stared at the bush-Evans with looks of stubborn resilience. Haha! they were thinking. What are you going to do now, Mr judge man?

The bush-Evans smiled back at the rebellious group. "Aha! A tiebreaker is required. Simple enough! What's say we settle this right now with a little game of spin the bottle?"
"Well, that's hardly fair!" Reginald replied.
"Oh, it's totally fair." The bush-Evans replied with a sinister smile. "There's an electromagnet in the neck."
Without further ado, the host produced a bottle from his pocket, put it on the ground, and spun it around. After a few spins, the bottle seemed to be pointing at... nobody in particular! But then, the bottle gained a life of its own, and moved around almost a full 360, until it ended up pointing at...

Reginald.

"Dangit!" The Detective cursed. "This game is rigged!"
"Told you." The bush-Evans replied.

Chapter Seven : : Chapter Nine