Part 24 – …Sports break, anyone?

So there I was. I had barely escaped yet again, with my first attempt to assault a Personally Owned Structure a complete and utter failure. Not only had I escaped by the skin of my teeth, but every last person I had led bravely into combat was either dead, or missing fillings and implants in a far off hospital.

Things looked pretty foul, so I pulled back into the rest station from where this adventure started, stepping in to find a bar. Maybe I’d down a pint or two, and watch TV. Perhaps the stained name of the DISCORD alliance wouldn’t be remembered for long for such a foolhardy action. Entering a pub, I immediately realized that the entire place was stuffed full of people.

I sat down and looked at what everyone was watching. Immediately, I knew. Some barbaric match, where four to eight people would enter an Arena per team, and fight it down to the hideous death! I had heard of it just briefly, and wondered what the rules were besides ‘two teams enter, one team leaves’. Of course, my eyes were glued to the promise of some escapist carnage.

It was the semi-finals, and the forces of some brewery were engaging in a match to the death with some cowboy cultists. I had no idea what was going on, and tuned in just in time to see a diamond and platinum-plated Apocalypse blow up in spectacular glory, to the cheers of everyone in the room. I was flabbergasted. What kind of a weird sport was this? I watched in fascination for several hours, time just flying by.

By the time of the finals, a team of samurai were fighting those ‘Fraternity Unit’ or whatever guys people keep talking about. I tuned in carefully, figuring I had gotten the rules down quite well. Watching, I anticipated an exciting match.

What I got was something completely different. It ends up, the brothers weren’t equipped to merely fight the samurai team… but they were in fact composed entirely of vampires! I watched the terribly one sided, but dull conclusion with a shake of the head as the poor samurai never stood a chance. Sometimes, I just don’t get extreme sports.

I stood up and turned for the door. A sigh escaped my lips before I suddenly realized something terrible. There was a crowd outside, waiting for me, all shouting my name. Was this a lynch mob, ready to avenge the pointless deaths of their comrades? I looked across, awaiting the end. That’s when I actually took the time to read one of their picket signs.

Quote:

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Way to go, Man in a Crow!

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What? What the hell was this? I read another.

Quote:

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Let’s Fight on Ascending Pioneers soon!

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This was even more bizarre. I gasped.

Quote:

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Get me killed next, please!

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What?!

It hit me quite hard. Probably harder than all the drinks I had in the bar and the cinderblock that landed on that poor Velator yesterday combined. I rubbed my eyes with complete astonishment. These people were utterly mad.

I had emerged from the utterly futile siege of that tower as some sort of celebrity.

(to be continued)