[ CW ] TropeDay Prompt : Team Rocket Wins !

Grundleweed regained a hold of his senses and clamped his jaw shut. He could feel his tongue silently fidgeting, sounding out the *wha... wha... whaaat? * tumbling round and round inside his mind. He turned to Lickspittoon. 
 
 `` Did you see that? *Did you see that? *'' 
 
 Lickspittoon shook his head and laughed. `` I do n't even know how you just did that.'' He strolled over to the crumpled corpse and kicked it with his foot, then looked over at Grundleweed. `` You killed the Chosen One.'' 
 
 `` I know.'' 
 
 `` *You killed the Chosen One*.'' 
 
 `` Yup.'' 
 
 `` With a rusty sword.'' 
 
 `` Damn straight.'' Grundleweed puffed up his barrel chest and thumped it with a scaly fist. `` I AM GRUNDLEWEED,'' he bellowed, a gobbet of spittle spattering the dead hero's angel-helm. `` FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND MINION OF MISCATHURGEUS THE TITULARLY OMINOUS. ALL SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE ME!'' 
 
 `` Haha!'' Lickspittoon cackled, ears waggling. `` Master will shower us in riches!'' 
 
 `` No,'' Grundleweed snorted. `` I shall be the new master.'' 
 
 Lickspittoon shrugged. `` You can be the new Chosen One. You could rise up and rule this land.'' 
 
 `` Yess, yesss!'' Grundleweed nodded enthusiastically. `` All shall call me-'' 
 
 *WHAM! * 
 
 The last thing Grundleweed saw was an eight-foot tall, hulking beef-hock of a man, wielding a knarled club with primal glee. There was a giggle, and then a sickening crunch. 
 
 The giant walked over to the slumped corpse. `` Gaius? Krod come in on cue this time? Gaius?'' There was no response. Krod sighed, and left the cave.
