"OK, little buddy, I know he’s large, but he’s lumbering as shit and you can use that against him. You’ve got speed and you’re agile, use that and don’t let him pin you, he’ll yank your plug out before you can say ‘polished chrome finish’. Remember, float like a drone bot, sting like a tazer. Got that, Calcifer?"
The little toaster leaped forward, straining against the hold Thor had on his plug and throwing out breadcrumbs in his eagerness. The towering fax machine on the other side of the ring rumbled ominously and rocked forwards until its handlers forced it back.
Clint patted Calcifer as Thor gently reeled him back to their corner. “Patience, Calcifer, you shall get your chance to prove your valour.”
"Fuck that." Leaning in until he was eye to timer with the toaster and placing a hand against his slots, Clint fixed him with a serious look. Calcifer stopped struggling as he spoke to him, voice low. "They think they can beat you just because it squashed that tablet the other week, when everyone knows it fell over its own fat toner. You gonna let a flawed design beat you, Calcifer?” The toaster made a sound like a growl, snapping his lever like he would teeth. “That’s right, you’re going to show these other appliances you take no shit and no prisoners.”
Outside of the ring, Natasha was taking last-minute bets. The odds favoured Calcifer, as reigning champion, but he’d never fought anything larger than something Tony had cannibalised from a scanner, laptop, and the innards of a vending machine, and they’d been hammering the dents out of him for a week afterwards. She caught his eye and nodded, and Clint sat back on his heels. “Alright, nearly go time. You ready to chew on this guys’ wiring?”
“Welcome," Tony’s voice boomed, "ladies, gentlemen, assorted agents, to another night in the Illicit SHIELD Appliance Fighting Ring!”