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Kooroo -> RE: =EC 2020= Spectators Thread (8/30/2020 23:50:37)
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A rhythmic pulsing followed David down the stairs, its monotonous deeting doing its best to break up the repetitive slap of sandals on stone and the huff of his increasingly laboured breathing.
Go figure that his house alarm would trigger just as the Finals started. And of course it would have to happen the year he’d managed to get a box seat too.. Dear Lords, what a great anniversary this was turning out to be. And a year right after the wifey had fallen ill with Mana Confluence, no less.
Still, at least this was better than two years ago, when ‘The Flood’ had blasted down his door and wrecked the ground floor for several months. David had thought they’d be celebrating their second year together with a lot more cheering and not quite as much sweeping. But hey, at least it’d been a good excuse to reno the house. That carpet had already been looking mighty grungy before The Flood had gone and completely ruined it. Dry cleaning hadn’t made the shaggy brown mess any better, but that unexpected wet washing? Ten out of ten.
Come to think of it, they wouldn’t have installed that security ward, had they not been forced to renovate. Something else to thank The Flood for.
The small grin that had come to his face vanished quickly, as David continued to puff along, practically jumping down the last flight of stairs. Had there always been so many steps in the stadium? He could’ve sworn that they’d only climbed half as many on the way to their seats. Honestly, they just really needed to update the place. Perhaps some magically enchanted stairs, or some sort of moving platform that brought you up and down to different levels.
He managed to make it out of the stadium and just across the connecting bridge before his lungs finally gave out. David slowed to a gradual halt and stood there panting, taking huge, whooping breaths, resting his hands on his knees. If Maria could see him now, there was no doubt that she’d force him to get out and about some more. The lady was always preaching about how a good run was a necessity every now and then, but it just really wasn’t David’s thing. Exercise wasn’t super important, especially for the head manager of linen ware company. All he did was sit around at his desk all day and wait for his daily report from his junior staff. Sure, he’d been putting on a few extra stones over the past couple of years, but it wasn’t as bad as Maria insis—
“‘Scuse me, mister.”
The muffled voice was enough to catch the mildly unfit man off guard and he yelped, then tripped, and fell on his bottom. Who the— What… Where th—
“Anyone there? Yes, no? Can you talk? Or nevermind that, can you at least count? Come on, start it off with me. One, two….”
David looked around wildly, searching for the source of the voice. There wasn’t anyone or anything around him that seemed out of place. Nothing that he’d imagine bumping into at the marketplace anyhow, which was saying something, considering they were in Bren. The only things he saw around him were the vacated, stone buildings, the bridge he’d just crossed over, and a sign post. There was a stall a few paces from him, and a pile of boxes beyond that, but nothing that would be… be…
There was a hand sticking out from the pile of crates, gesturing and signing as the voice prattled on and on.
The unfit sales manager stared at the hand dumbly for a few moments, before he finally found his voice. “Um… Hi. Hello.”
It paused mid-gestured and then shot a funny little salute in the wrong direction. “Oh, hey there. So you can talk! Great, great, just what I needed. So, how’s it going?”
“Uh… Fine, I guess? You’re, um, a—”
“Brilliant?”
“You’re a talking pile of crates.”
The hand froze, then shot him a funny sign in the shape of a ‘v’. “Mmm. Mm, mm. Mmm. Yes, I can see—metaphorically, of course—that only one is very bright and the other is a few hangers short of a quarter-full wardrobe.”
“Wha—”
“One pancake short of a short stack? No, nothing…? No comprende? Nevermind then. You know what they say, all brawn and no brains, right? Pretty obvious which one you’d be. What’s your name, champ?”
“Uh, David.”
“David, hmm. David... Can’t say I’ve ever known any Davids. So tell me, David, what are you currently working as?”
“I’m, um… I’m in charge of sales for—”
Thumbs up. “I’ve heard enough, say no more! No seriously, don’t… Okay, good. Excellent. You passed, Dave! I’m so proud of you. You’re hired!”
He frowned and raised an eyebrow at the swaying metallic arm. “For… what?”
“Why, stock management, of course! So if you could hop-to and manage all of this”—the hand flourished downwards, indicating the crates below it—”mess that my dog dumped all over me.”
“But I—“
“Less confusion, more lifting. You’re employed for your arms, not your mouth, so get to it!”
The new employee got to it. David grabbed on, getting a hand under either side, and heaved...
… to no avail. The crate didn’t budge. He pulled and pushed the wooden box, even throwing his above-average weight on to it, but it refused to give, despite the hand’s encouragement. Soon enough, the voice’s intern was back to huffing and puffing his lungs out.
“What… the heck… is in…” David wheezed, to which the hand responded with a funny shrug.
“I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t disappointing. In fact, I’ll be very honest and upfront about it: I’m disappointed in you, Jarvis.”
“It’s Dav—” David started, before falling into a coughing fit.
“You right there, buck? You should get yourself tested.”
“Ex-Excuse me? Tested? For wha—”
“Never you mind. So tell me Jarvey, what’s your vision like? Twenty-Twenty? forty-forty?” It started clicking its forefinger and thumb together, in a strangely mesmerising staccato.
“W—”
“Good enough! Aight, so tell me. Do you see anything small and vaguely disk-shaped on the ground around you? Should be about yea big, blue, and relatively expensive looking? Might’ve dropped it on the ground somewhere out there, you see, so I really need you to peel back your eyelids and have a good squizz around.”
David frowned. This was getting weird. Well, weirder. Whoever that hand belonged to was obviously a hundred threads short of a tea towel and his mother had always said not to deal with crazies. But… they were stuck after all. There didn’t seem to be any way they could make it out from under that pile, so he didn’t feel like he was in any immediate danger.
“Well, uh… Alright, I’ll look. But after this I must really get goi—”
The hand shot him a thumbs up. “Sublime! I’ll sort out your paycheck the next time I happen across you and once I—hopefully—get out of here. My dog’ll probably come back to get me, so you don’t need to worry your little head about that. Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that you have a small head. My apologies and sincere condolences for your.... condition. I didn’t mean to be rude, but it just sounded like—”
He tuned out the rambling crate-bound person and looked around, searching for the mysterious object that they wanted. Not that there were many places to look. The paved tiles were clearly devoid of any foreign, disk-shaped objects, and anything blue would have stood out in contrast to the stark, browny-grey of the impossibly heavy crates. David told the trapped person as much.
There was a long pause before they responded. “I’m sure you can do better. You know what they say: ‘If at first you don’t succeed, do better.’”
“I don’t think that’s how that saying goes, but I guarantee that your disk isn’t here,” David said, forcing the uncertainty out of his voice.
“Then look again. Attempt number two, let’s go!”
“That’s not going to change any—”
“Three then. Keep at it, you’ve totally got this, James!”
David scowled. ”It’s—Whatever. Sir or ma’am, I really have some place I need to—”
“Give it one more go. Come on, say it with me!”
This was getting ridiculous. No, this was already beyond ridiculous.
He sighed, exasperated. “Look, I’m sorry. I really need to get a move on. My wife is—“
“FOUR!”
There was a loud crash! as the heap of crates exploded outwards. David barely had time to see what appeared to be an outstretched metal boot, before one of the boxes slammed into his shins. The bones in his leg shattered like glass and the sales manager went down.
Today really wasn’t a good day. First, that mongrel had gone and flipped her into that stack of crates, and now someone had made off with her audio player. That, or she’d accidentally hired someone that was probably blind. Which was great for workplace diversity and all, but terrible for efficiency. Hmm, it was probably the date. Today was probably just a bad date.
Hmm, what was the date, anyway?
The Astra flicked a speck of dust off her hat and pulled it on, angling its brim as she checked her reflection in a window.
Ah, that was better. One of the most important parts about feeling good was looking good.
So,where was she? Date? The date, right. She needed her phone.
Theia reached into her waistcoat and felt around, searching for her phone. Both sides were devoid of arcane communicators, but she hadn’t expected to find it there. Radiation was bad for your heart, apparently, so she usually kept it in her pants pockets. Both her fronts yielded nothing, but she hit (metaphorical) gold in her back left.
Something else fell out of her pocket and she looked down to see a small, cobalt disk on the floor.
“Well, hello there,” she grinned, picking the sneaky little bugger off the floor and inspecting it. Not a scratch, excellent. Things were already looking up. Maybe it wasn’t the date after all.
“Don’t worry, Jimothy, I’ve found my music player, see?” Theia beamed, holding the disk up proudly. “Your incompetence might’ve been a setback, but only a minor one. Too minor for a major player like me.”
The smile didn’t last long and shifted into a confused frown. Where was Jimmy anyway? He should’ve been right there, unless he’d already skedad—
The gunwoman looked down and the grin sprang back up, reappearing as her eyes found the whimpering man. “What’re you doing down there? Come on, up you get, you lazy lug!”
She reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his top, pulling him up and on to his feet. Her slacking employee hollered and dropped again, with all the grace of a grounded fish.
The Astra frowned. It seemed that Jimbo had taken a bit of a spill and hurt himself in the process. How very unprofessional. But then again, he was her employee. This wouldn’t be good for her rep, no her business insurance. Next year’s premiums were going to be unbearable if this got out.
Hmm, it looked like she didn’t have a choice.
“Don’t worry, Phillip. I watched a documentary on injuries once,” Theia said calmly, and drew Indus. “Granted, the subject matter was horses. And I don’t have a barn on hand to bring you behind. But fear not, for I am—“
She lobbed her gun into the air with a flourish and spun 360 before shooting Phil a pair of finger guns.
“—a professional.”
The revolver dropped into her right hand and she cocked it, before shooting him a reassuring smile. It must have worked, because her assistant’s eyes widened and he started babbling incoherently.
She chuckled and shook her head. Gods, she was good. “No need for thanks! After all, this will hurt you far more than it’ll hurt me. Which, I might add, is not at all. So, on a count of Four…”
The Astra spun the gun once more and took aim.
Well, that hadn’t worked.
Apparently, it wasn’t as simple as it had looked on the broadcasts. To be fair, Theia couldn’t really remember the details of the show that clearly. Hell, it mightn’t even have been a documentary. Could’ve been a soap instead. Which would’ve explained a few things, like the lack of narration or the annoying love interest.
But uh, yeah. Shooting Jamien hadn’t quietened him like she’d expected. Matter of fact, it had quite the opposite effect. He’d screamed and shouted and wouldn’t actually shut up until she’d clubbed him into unconsciousness with her gun. Not exactly how you were supposed to use such an eloquent firearm, but sometimes you had to improvise.
It took her a total of forty-Four point Four seconds to rush up far too many flights of stairs in the stadium. It would’ve been faster, but The Astra made sure that she timed her arrival to the perfect moment. According to the pass she’d nicked off her intern, this was his seat. Theia took a few moments to admire the embellished wooden door. It was an especially handsome piece of work, something that would’ve been fitting in a museum or gallery of similarly ornate artifacts. But here it was, in a strange stadium, out in the middle of a neutral realm. Guess it didn’t deserve any special treatment then.
She drew back her foot and let it fly. There was a shudderingcrash! and the fancy door burst open, revealing a very well-dressed and very annoyed lady standing inside.
“Who are you?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “And where the hell is my husband?”
“Let’s address that second one first,” Theia answered, as she strode to the front of the box and sat down. “Your husband had a slight fall— which I was in no way involved in, and am not responsible for, despite being his employer. He’s alright, though, just sleeping it off quietly in a janitorial closet down on the ground floor. You should probably go down and check up on him.”
“Like hell I’m going to. Get out or I—”
“You two must make a lovely couple.”
That earned her a glare. “Get out or I will be forced to alert the guards.”
“Aww, come off it. I’ve got a ticket you know,” said Theia, presenting the little paper slip. “See? This is my seat. Not a great number, but I suppose it’ll do.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she stalked forward, pulling a fiery saber from her belt. Tch, what kind of mellon brought a sword to a gunfight? Well, technically it wasn’t a fight.
Hold that thought.
The Astra whipped out Indus and fired on the woman’s Fourth step, shooting the glowing sword out of her unwilling host’s hand.
Fight over. Now, then, what in the Realms had she acquired a ticket to? Ah, another gladiatorial match was it? She would have thought that they’d have finished by now, but apparently not. That, or the aftershow was just as bloody as the main event. Which it could be, though, who could say for sure?
Theia looked to the economy-class seats and smiled at the plebs sitting in them. Gosh, it must be so incredibly uncomfortable to be out there, among the masses. In the standard, commoner seats.
She waved over to the angry-yet-stunned woman and motioned with Indus, indicating the seat next to her.
“What station is the commentary on?” Theia asked, pulling out her audio player as her booth-mate sat down.
The glarey-eyed lady raised an eyebrow slightly. “Station? Commentary? What nons—”
“Oi, I take offense to that. If I’m going to enjoy the games, then I’m going to need commentary. It might not be your type of thing, but for someone sophisticated like me, I require an indepth play-by-play analysis, performed by—“
“We have no need for such drivel. If you wish to have someone narrate our Championships to you, then can do it yourself,” sniffed the uptight lady.
Theia nodded. “Okay.”
There was a click as her vocaliser materialised over her mouth. “What’s your name, cupcake?”
“You do not deserve—“
“Muffin then? I’m really gonna need a name, unless you really want to be a baked good for the rest of the afternoon. Could do with a small snack, actually,” Theia said cheerfully, stealing a glance into the Arena. Mm, that was a good number of contestants. The best, as a matter of fact.
More glaring. If Theia’d gotten a silver coin every time someone glared at her, then she’d have an incredibly heavy wallet. That was a lot of change. “It’s Maria. Maria Ve—“
“And now you’re Cupcake. Cupcake is way better,” Theia stated, nodding sagely. “Tell me, Cupcake. Have you ever spoken to a large group of people before? Say, what’s your day job?”
If looks were weapons, then the newnamed lady’s face would have been confiscated at the gates. She’d have never made it past Customs looking like that. “I’m the speaker of the Legislative Assembly of—“
“You’re hired! Brace your eardrums.”
The Astra turned the volume up to Four-hundred Four percent and smiled beneath her iron grille. “Alright Ladies, Gents and Everything Else. I’d probably say it’s about time that we got under way. It’s time to introduce you lovely… creatures to the wonderful world of play-by-play commentary!”
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