A staff meeting for RhyDin Sports Network (RSN) two weeks ago.
“All right,” Suit #1, looking much older and more careworn than he had two years ago, began the meeting. “As of last week, all the lawsuits resulting from season one of In Your Face, which premiered during season three of IFL, have been settled. That being said, we are considering doing a brand new season of the show, but we may be required to do it a little differently this time.”
Suit #9 timidly raised her hand. The seat to her right where Suit #8 used to sit was empty. It was always empty. “Does that mean we will not be manipulating the footage this time around?”
Another suit cleared her throat, “As your legal counsel, I must remind you that no footage was ever manipulated during season three. RSN merely utilized their creative license over footage they owned, and we used industry standard editing practices to merely clean up the footage a little.”
“So no manipulating this year?” Suit #6 surmised dryly.
“You’ve all seen the latest ratings reports,” Suite #2 chimed in. “I seriously doubt anyone wants to watch the same people enter an interview booth to talk about how great they are. We need conflict. We need drama. We need something a little more exciting than boring interviews, and exciting means we’re going to need to manipulate this footage or forget reviving the idea at all.”
“Editing! Editing the footage,” the legal counsel corrected again.
“Yes, editing.” Suit #1 repeated. “And before we even consider the need to edit, let’s see what our favorite sport stars come up with first.”
In Your Face (IFL Season 5): Raw Footage
Moderator: Staff
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
The day before IFL was due to start, two interview booths were set up outside the Iron Fist Gardens for the purpose of personal interviews with fighters, team members, or even some spectators. The booths looked like slightly larger versions of boardwalk photo booths, the sides plastered with the RSN logo. There was a small door on the back end to allow a lackey to enter, sit and then freeze inside the small space as he or she waited to ask questions of any potential interviewees.
The fighters gained access by parting a red curtain on one side of the booth. Inside, there was a cushioned bench big enough to hold at least one person, though the possibility to cram more people inside was not out of the question. Once seated, the fighters faced a darkened glass panel through which they were videotaped and asked questions by the lackey on the other side. The glass was actually a reflective screen, playing what the camera was recording once activated. A panel along the right hand side allowed the interviewees to change the background behind them with options ranging from different colors, to all the team logos, to a variety of scenic backdrops.
As the different fighters entered and left the Iron Fist Gardens during the season, a professional looking young lady or man grasping a clipboard approached whoever’s attention they could get, asking for a moment of their time. If granted, the fighter or spectator was given an invitation to enter the interview booth (and perhaps a little shove of encouragement to do so) and share a few words of wisdom with the rest of RhyDin.
[]I tried to leave this as open-ended as possible for people to use. Feel free to play the lackey NPC interviewers as you want, cram as many people into the booth as you want, change the background to whatever you feel like, and just have fun!
If and when you post, please at least include the IFL week, character name, and team name at the top of each post.
For reference on how this worked last time, please see this thread here.
There is also the slim chance (if I find the time) that I will be able to post edited versions of the “raw footage” posts. You can see examples of those posts here.[]
The fighters gained access by parting a red curtain on one side of the booth. Inside, there was a cushioned bench big enough to hold at least one person, though the possibility to cram more people inside was not out of the question. Once seated, the fighters faced a darkened glass panel through which they were videotaped and asked questions by the lackey on the other side. The glass was actually a reflective screen, playing what the camera was recording once activated. A panel along the right hand side allowed the interviewees to change the background behind them with options ranging from different colors, to all the team logos, to a variety of scenic backdrops.
As the different fighters entered and left the Iron Fist Gardens during the season, a professional looking young lady or man grasping a clipboard approached whoever’s attention they could get, asking for a moment of their time. If granted, the fighter or spectator was given an invitation to enter the interview booth (and perhaps a little shove of encouragement to do so) and share a few words of wisdom with the rest of RhyDin.
[]I tried to leave this as open-ended as possible for people to use. Feel free to play the lackey NPC interviewers as you want, cram as many people into the booth as you want, change the background to whatever you feel like, and just have fun!
If and when you post, please at least include the IFL week, character name, and team name at the top of each post.
For reference on how this worked last time, please see this thread here.
There is also the slim chance (if I find the time) that I will be able to post edited versions of the “raw footage” posts. You can see examples of those posts here.[]
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
The Empress Baroness Jewell
Royal Pain
Week 1
“I know how this works!” she snapped at the lady outside the booth who tried to get in her way. She shoved past her, pulling open the red curtain and clambering inside.
After sitting down, Jewell took the time to adjust her purple hair, her posture, the low neckline of her dress. Then it was time to play with the buttons! She went through each of the 100+ possible backgrounds and lighting options, smiling into the glass each time to check her reflection. Black? Nope, she looked too washed out. Purple blended with her hair too much. White was boring. Red clashed terribly with her outfit.
She even tried all the different team logos as backgrounds before finally deciding on a black crown.
“Yep, that’s it!” Taking a deep breath, she smiled into the camera. A little tweak to soften the lighting and then everything was perfect. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Silence.
“Hello-o! I said, I’m ready!”
Silence.
“Hello?” She scooted forward and knocked on the glass. “Are you in there? Don’t you want to interview me? I just got into a fight outside the rings with another team captain, Bile of Chemical Burn. It doesn’t get much juicier than that!”
Still no response.
“Oh come on! You should be dying to interview me. That creep threatened to tame me and put me on a leash or something equally weird and kinky, but like not in the good way.” Pause. “Do you think that was his messed up attempt to ask me on a date? I mean, he clearly doesn’t know how to talk to women, so that could have been his way of telling me he wants me.”
Jewell sat back, musing over this new take on the night’s events. “You know, it wouldn’t be the first time some guy tried to ask me on a date in a totally unorthodox way. There was that guy with the chainsaw that Gren Blockman saved me from. Really, these people could use some training. They come from Mother knows where and then try to woo women using their backwards, primitive cultural ideals. It just isn’t working! To make matters worse, Bile likes calling women ‘pet’ as if he can’t be bothered to remember their names. Gotta tell you, he needs to put a little more effort into it if he wants to score.”
Pause. “Not with me though, I mean. I don’t care for guys who just set themselves on fire for no reason. I’m pretty sure he’s also a little prick.”
The lack of response didn’t seem to be bother her at all now that she had warmed up to talking. “Yeah, he’s definitely a jerk. He hit Hoi Mei! Maybe she turned down a date with him too? He probably could use anger management training because he clearly doesn’t know how to handle rejection. I mean, he was so upset that I wouldn’t go on a date with him that he threatened to enslave one of my team members and another team captain, Eva of The Rabble. Get over it, buddy, I don’t like you! He also seemed to think he could ask Anubis to deal with me?” Jewell laughed. “I don’t think that’ll work out so well for anyone!”
“Um, miss?” The woman Jewell had shoved out of the way poked her head inside. “The interviewers are all on their dinner break.”
“What?” She looked annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I uh.. tried.”
“Well try harder next time.” She stood up quickly, moving to push the woman out of her way again. “Your friends just missed the best interview of their lives!”
Royal Pain
Week 1
“I know how this works!” she snapped at the lady outside the booth who tried to get in her way. She shoved past her, pulling open the red curtain and clambering inside.
After sitting down, Jewell took the time to adjust her purple hair, her posture, the low neckline of her dress. Then it was time to play with the buttons! She went through each of the 100+ possible backgrounds and lighting options, smiling into the glass each time to check her reflection. Black? Nope, she looked too washed out. Purple blended with her hair too much. White was boring. Red clashed terribly with her outfit.
She even tried all the different team logos as backgrounds before finally deciding on a black crown.
“Yep, that’s it!” Taking a deep breath, she smiled into the camera. A little tweak to soften the lighting and then everything was perfect. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Silence.
“Hello-o! I said, I’m ready!”
Silence.
“Hello?” She scooted forward and knocked on the glass. “Are you in there? Don’t you want to interview me? I just got into a fight outside the rings with another team captain, Bile of Chemical Burn. It doesn’t get much juicier than that!”
Still no response.
“Oh come on! You should be dying to interview me. That creep threatened to tame me and put me on a leash or something equally weird and kinky, but like not in the good way.” Pause. “Do you think that was his messed up attempt to ask me on a date? I mean, he clearly doesn’t know how to talk to women, so that could have been his way of telling me he wants me.”
Jewell sat back, musing over this new take on the night’s events. “You know, it wouldn’t be the first time some guy tried to ask me on a date in a totally unorthodox way. There was that guy with the chainsaw that Gren Blockman saved me from. Really, these people could use some training. They come from Mother knows where and then try to woo women using their backwards, primitive cultural ideals. It just isn’t working! To make matters worse, Bile likes calling women ‘pet’ as if he can’t be bothered to remember their names. Gotta tell you, he needs to put a little more effort into it if he wants to score.”
Pause. “Not with me though, I mean. I don’t care for guys who just set themselves on fire for no reason. I’m pretty sure he’s also a little prick.”
The lack of response didn’t seem to be bother her at all now that she had warmed up to talking. “Yeah, he’s definitely a jerk. He hit Hoi Mei! Maybe she turned down a date with him too? He probably could use anger management training because he clearly doesn’t know how to handle rejection. I mean, he was so upset that I wouldn’t go on a date with him that he threatened to enslave one of my team members and another team captain, Eva of The Rabble. Get over it, buddy, I don’t like you! He also seemed to think he could ask Anubis to deal with me?” Jewell laughed. “I don’t think that’ll work out so well for anyone!”
“Um, miss?” The woman Jewell had shoved out of the way poked her head inside. “The interviewers are all on their dinner break.”
“What?” She looked annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I uh.. tried.”
“Well try harder next time.” She stood up quickly, moving to push the woman out of her way again. “Your friends just missed the best interview of their lives!”
-
XanthVanBokkelen
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Posts: 420
- Joined: Fri Apr 20, 2007 8:40 pm
- Location: Currently Unknown
IFL Week 2
Xanth Van Bokkelen
Chemical Burn
An ominous stomping is heard approaching the “In Your Face” booth, followed by a gruff “Takeyourhandsoffame!” The red curtain is whipped aside. Xanth, in his usual black robe and black hood, stormed within. He roughly sat on the bench, crossed his arms, and glared at the camera with his ruby gaze.
“I must warn you intrusive mortals that I have no patience for these frivolities. I am only here to fulfill my contractual obligations. I suggest you proceed and proceed quickly, and do not irritate me any more than I currently am.”
The disembodied voice behind the camera stammered, then replied in a shaky voice. “Well, how this usually works, Xanth . . . sir . . . is, uh . . . you state your name, your team affiliation, and the current IFL week.”
“I am Xanth Van Bokkelen, and I represent . . . what the hell is the name of this team, anyway?” Xanth looked at the red curtain, as if someone were standing on the other side who could answer that question.
“Uhh . . . Chemical Burn”, the disembodied voice replied.
“Chemical Burn. Wonderful”, he replied with a grunt. “Well, it’s Lord Bile’s team. This is Week Two. May I go now?” Xanth began to rise from the bench.
“Wait! Um, wait, Lord Xanth. Sir. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“If you insist.” Xanth slowly lowered himself back onto the bench, his ruby glare intensifying.
“Ahem. You just got your first win this year against a good IFL fighter, Blondie Eastwood. It’s also your team’s first win of the season. How does that make you feel?”
“Feel? How do I feel? What does that have to do with anything? Grr. Fine, I will answer your question. I feel victorious. I feel ready to win another three duels at least, so that we may enter the playoffs. I feel that this team is just getting prepared for our eventual Championship come the conclusion of this season.”
“Do you feel more comfortable being on a team with evil . . . I mean, uh . . . do you feel more comfortable being on a team that’s . . . much more . . . suited towards your particular . . um, world views?”
Xanth is silent for a long moment. “Indeed, mortal, I feel much more at ease with Lord Bile and his vision of greatness. Last year I was on a team that was merely a conglomeration of fighters with nowhere else to go. The same reason why the year before that I joined the Champions of Whatever-the-hell-they-were. If my comrade from my TDL days, Kelten Tarkenstone, hadn’t offered to procure me a spot on their roster, I would not have participated that year. I believe that my current team has the proper mentality and the talent to achieve total victory in this League.”
“Why isn’t Jesse on your . . . ?”
Xanth angrily pointed at the camera. “Do not ask me about that infernal woman!”
“Sorry! I’m sorry . . . I, uh . . . “
Xanth crossed his arms again, his crimson gaze focused impatiently on the camera.
After an awkward silence, the voice asked, “Can you sign my Team Xanth shirt?”
“No. That concludes this ridiculous interview.” Xanth rose fuming from the bench and pushed through the curtain. “Getouttamyway”can be heard beyond, as Xanth marched angrily from the Garden.
Xanth Van Bokkelen
Chemical Burn
An ominous stomping is heard approaching the “In Your Face” booth, followed by a gruff “Takeyourhandsoffame!” The red curtain is whipped aside. Xanth, in his usual black robe and black hood, stormed within. He roughly sat on the bench, crossed his arms, and glared at the camera with his ruby gaze.
“I must warn you intrusive mortals that I have no patience for these frivolities. I am only here to fulfill my contractual obligations. I suggest you proceed and proceed quickly, and do not irritate me any more than I currently am.”
The disembodied voice behind the camera stammered, then replied in a shaky voice. “Well, how this usually works, Xanth . . . sir . . . is, uh . . . you state your name, your team affiliation, and the current IFL week.”
“I am Xanth Van Bokkelen, and I represent . . . what the hell is the name of this team, anyway?” Xanth looked at the red curtain, as if someone were standing on the other side who could answer that question.
“Uhh . . . Chemical Burn”, the disembodied voice replied.
“Chemical Burn. Wonderful”, he replied with a grunt. “Well, it’s Lord Bile’s team. This is Week Two. May I go now?” Xanth began to rise from the bench.
“Wait! Um, wait, Lord Xanth. Sir. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“If you insist.” Xanth slowly lowered himself back onto the bench, his ruby glare intensifying.
“Ahem. You just got your first win this year against a good IFL fighter, Blondie Eastwood. It’s also your team’s first win of the season. How does that make you feel?”
“Feel? How do I feel? What does that have to do with anything? Grr. Fine, I will answer your question. I feel victorious. I feel ready to win another three duels at least, so that we may enter the playoffs. I feel that this team is just getting prepared for our eventual Championship come the conclusion of this season.”
“Do you feel more comfortable being on a team with evil . . . I mean, uh . . . do you feel more comfortable being on a team that’s . . . much more . . . suited towards your particular . . um, world views?”
Xanth is silent for a long moment. “Indeed, mortal, I feel much more at ease with Lord Bile and his vision of greatness. Last year I was on a team that was merely a conglomeration of fighters with nowhere else to go. The same reason why the year before that I joined the Champions of Whatever-the-hell-they-were. If my comrade from my TDL days, Kelten Tarkenstone, hadn’t offered to procure me a spot on their roster, I would not have participated that year. I believe that my current team has the proper mentality and the talent to achieve total victory in this League.”
“Why isn’t Jesse on your . . . ?”
Xanth angrily pointed at the camera. “Do not ask me about that infernal woman!”
“Sorry! I’m sorry . . . I, uh . . . “
Xanth crossed his arms again, his crimson gaze focused impatiently on the camera.
After an awkward silence, the voice asked, “Can you sign my Team Xanth shirt?”
“No. That concludes this ridiculous interview.” Xanth rose fuming from the bench and pushed through the curtain. “Getouttamyway”can be heard beyond, as Xanth marched angrily from the Garden.
-
Hope
- Expert Adventurer
- Beast Mode
- Posts: 851
- Joined: Wed Jul 10, 2013 2:13 am
- Location: New Haven
- Contact:
IFL Week 3
Hope
Dirty: Pink
It was a rainy night and there was absolutely no one to be seen throughout the Iron Fist Garden or its immediate property. Just how Hope had envisioned as she scheduled her interview for Tuesday night. Void of any people since there were no scheduled fights, she made her way through the puddles to the interview booth, knocking twice before taking a seat inside.
She pulled the hood down from overhead and shook her hair a bit putting the main braid behind her.
"You guys awake in there?" She held a coffee in her right hand and shoved the left in one of the pockets to keep it from freezing.
"Did you hear something?" A young man asked the camera operator as he was bending over pouring some cold grainy coffee into the paper cups.
"Hellloooooooo~?" Hope rang out again, to the all-seeing lens in front of her.
"OH!" The man behind the panels exclaimed as he settled in to see Hope on the other side.
"I'm sorry about that we've been freezing our butts off and had to get some.. cold coffee. Please state your name, team affiliation and current week of IFL!" He nervously coughed at the end while checking everything on the booth.
"Starting me out with the tough ones huh? Hope, Dirty: Pink and it's currently Week 3." She took a sip of the coffee and tugged the red curtain shut.
"Finally a normal one." Jimmy exclaimed while he tugged at his collar and seemed to relax a little after the successful questions to start it off.
"So we are joined with Hope, Assistant-Captain of Dirty: Pink. It's currently Week 3 where Dirty: Pink is set to face-off with Royal Pain. Can you tell us a little a bout how the first two weeks have been?"
"Sure let me think. Week 1 we had to take on our new branch Dirty: Black, which I guess was good since we got to knock it out early. I met Dean in the Push match and it should go without saying, he's one tough sob. The score at the end doesn't reflect what kind of a fight you're stepping into with him. Can't ever count him out, had one or two things gone opposite, he was the winner, done. I think that goes for the team really."
"So that was Pink's opening week, unfortunate or fortunate to have seen your sister team Black in the first round. Next up you guys took on Lazerricks."
"Yeah that one's obviously clearer in my mind. First Iron Fist match of the season for me and I looked a little rusty didn't I? Got a lead on Nigel but he wasn't content to let me take it. Put up a hell of a fight and nearly took them all but I found it in the end. It's a young team, some talent there for sure. I don't think we had business losing this week though. If we're really going to contend for the top spot, this was a need-to-win week. We did just that."
"So looking ahead to this week, Royal Pain. Tell me what you think about how it will play out."
"You're really overachieving today aren't you?" She smirked to the camera and took another sip of the coffee.
"W-Well miss it's not every day someone's willing to you know.. sit down and.. talk with us like this."
Hope shrugged and didn't mind a camera. No clue where that came from either since she wasn't about crowds.
"They're a mixed team. They've got some fighters who are wet behind the ears, then they've got some veterans who've been at it a hell of a lot longer than I have. But to be fair, so do we. I think we stack up nicely." She wasn't about to jinx anyone though, so she didn't provide any further comments on it.
"Now looking forward. Assuming, which is a dangerous word, that the current trends hold true, Week Four is looking to shape up to be clash of the titans between Pink and Fist. Will you prepare any differently for it?"
Hope took another drink of the coffee and set it down to mold her thoughts behind the shut eyelids. When they opened she looked at the lens and leaned forward with her hands out of her pockets and between her knees as she rubbed them.
"If you asked Harris last season or Jake the season before: is there anyone you can't beat? You know what their answers would've been? Aside from a laugh from one and a grunt from the other- no. There's not a single fighter you could put in front of me that I couldn't beat. That's how it has to be. See it's gotta start here." She tapped her chest, right over where her heart was with her right hand.
"It's all gotta start from here. If you don't believe deep down that you're capable of beating everyone else how can you ever convince the guy up here?" She tapped at her temple.
"Yeah you could lose, losing is always the most readily available option, always. But you have to believe that you can beat anyone across from you. Once you believe it, you take it from a dream into reality using this", she tapped her temple then made a fist with the same hand after, "and this."
"How can I hope to be the best if I don't believe I can beat the rest? Fist is the largest mountain we're going to have to climb. I'm going to go at them the same way I go at everyone else; with the intent to win." She leaned back and grabbed her coffee.
"Um..." Jimmy sat and looked down at the paper in his lap with the agenda.
"I th-think that's everything." He looked back up through the lens.
Hope pulled up her hood and got up.
"That going to look good for your bosses?" She said with a smile.
"Y-Yeah." Jimmy replied.
"Good." And she was off.
Hope
Dirty: Pink
It was a rainy night and there was absolutely no one to be seen throughout the Iron Fist Garden or its immediate property. Just how Hope had envisioned as she scheduled her interview for Tuesday night. Void of any people since there were no scheduled fights, she made her way through the puddles to the interview booth, knocking twice before taking a seat inside.
She pulled the hood down from overhead and shook her hair a bit putting the main braid behind her.
"You guys awake in there?" She held a coffee in her right hand and shoved the left in one of the pockets to keep it from freezing.
"Did you hear something?" A young man asked the camera operator as he was bending over pouring some cold grainy coffee into the paper cups.
"Hellloooooooo~?" Hope rang out again, to the all-seeing lens in front of her.
"OH!" The man behind the panels exclaimed as he settled in to see Hope on the other side.
"I'm sorry about that we've been freezing our butts off and had to get some.. cold coffee. Please state your name, team affiliation and current week of IFL!" He nervously coughed at the end while checking everything on the booth.
"Starting me out with the tough ones huh? Hope, Dirty: Pink and it's currently Week 3." She took a sip of the coffee and tugged the red curtain shut.
"Finally a normal one." Jimmy exclaimed while he tugged at his collar and seemed to relax a little after the successful questions to start it off.
"So we are joined with Hope, Assistant-Captain of Dirty: Pink. It's currently Week 3 where Dirty: Pink is set to face-off with Royal Pain. Can you tell us a little a bout how the first two weeks have been?"
"Sure let me think. Week 1 we had to take on our new branch Dirty: Black, which I guess was good since we got to knock it out early. I met Dean in the Push match and it should go without saying, he's one tough sob. The score at the end doesn't reflect what kind of a fight you're stepping into with him. Can't ever count him out, had one or two things gone opposite, he was the winner, done. I think that goes for the team really."
"So that was Pink's opening week, unfortunate or fortunate to have seen your sister team Black in the first round. Next up you guys took on Lazerricks."
"Yeah that one's obviously clearer in my mind. First Iron Fist match of the season for me and I looked a little rusty didn't I? Got a lead on Nigel but he wasn't content to let me take it. Put up a hell of a fight and nearly took them all but I found it in the end. It's a young team, some talent there for sure. I don't think we had business losing this week though. If we're really going to contend for the top spot, this was a need-to-win week. We did just that."
"So looking ahead to this week, Royal Pain. Tell me what you think about how it will play out."
"You're really overachieving today aren't you?" She smirked to the camera and took another sip of the coffee.
"W-Well miss it's not every day someone's willing to you know.. sit down and.. talk with us like this."
Hope shrugged and didn't mind a camera. No clue where that came from either since she wasn't about crowds.
"They're a mixed team. They've got some fighters who are wet behind the ears, then they've got some veterans who've been at it a hell of a lot longer than I have. But to be fair, so do we. I think we stack up nicely." She wasn't about to jinx anyone though, so she didn't provide any further comments on it.
"Now looking forward. Assuming, which is a dangerous word, that the current trends hold true, Week Four is looking to shape up to be clash of the titans between Pink and Fist. Will you prepare any differently for it?"
Hope took another drink of the coffee and set it down to mold her thoughts behind the shut eyelids. When they opened she looked at the lens and leaned forward with her hands out of her pockets and between her knees as she rubbed them.
"If you asked Harris last season or Jake the season before: is there anyone you can't beat? You know what their answers would've been? Aside from a laugh from one and a grunt from the other- no. There's not a single fighter you could put in front of me that I couldn't beat. That's how it has to be. See it's gotta start here." She tapped her chest, right over where her heart was with her right hand.
"It's all gotta start from here. If you don't believe deep down that you're capable of beating everyone else how can you ever convince the guy up here?" She tapped at her temple.
"Yeah you could lose, losing is always the most readily available option, always. But you have to believe that you can beat anyone across from you. Once you believe it, you take it from a dream into reality using this", she tapped her temple then made a fist with the same hand after, "and this."
"How can I hope to be the best if I don't believe I can beat the rest? Fist is the largest mountain we're going to have to climb. I'm going to go at them the same way I go at everyone else; with the intent to win." She leaned back and grabbed her coffee.
"Um..." Jimmy sat and looked down at the paper in his lap with the agenda.
"I th-think that's everything." He looked back up through the lens.
Hope pulled up her hood and got up.
"That going to look good for your bosses?" She said with a smile.
"Y-Yeah." Jimmy replied.
"Good." And she was off.
-
Gren Blockman
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 747
- Joined: Thu Jun 19, 2008 9:00 pm
- Location: The forest, the woods, the trees
IFL Week 6
Gren Blockman
Team Fist
The lady with the clipboard was standing outside the booth, and saw Gren hurrying up to her. Assuming he wanted to climb inside and give an interview, she pulled the red curtain back. She was shocked to find Gren instead threw his arms around her and gave her a big hug.
“I’m sorry, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’m kind of emotional right now.”
“That’s alright, Mister Blockman, please have a seat.” The woman said in a flustered tone, and hurriedly pushed him through the red curtain. Gren plopped on the bench, wiping his face as if to clean himself up for the interview.
“You know how this works, Mister Blockman, please state your name, your team, and the current IFL week for the record.”
“Of course. My name is Gren Blockman. Hello everybody!” He leans forward and waves happily into the camera with a big goofy smile. “I’m on Team Fist, and it’s Week Six! Isn’t it a wonderful day?” He sighs and stares off at some random point with a dreamy look on his face.
“Ahem. You just broke a six duel losing streak, seven if you count the 2013 Finals. Can you tell us about your match tonight?”
“Yes. Yes I can. It’s Jimmy, right? Hello, Jimmy. You’re a wonderful person, Jimmy, do you know that?”
“The match, Mister Blockman.”
“Oh! Right. Well, I had to face April in the Anchor match. It was very nerve wracking. I had lost to her previously during the Ice & Fire Spectacular. But I wanted to get that win so badly, I just . . . pardon me . . . “ He takes a stiff, used tissue from beneath his grey cloak and noisily blows his nose into it.
“Are you alright, Mister Blockman?”
“Oh, yes, I just . . .”
“. . . get emotional.” Jimmy finished.
Gren took a long, shaky breath, as if getting himself together, then put on his goofy smile again. “Yes. Well. This is one of the best IFL moments I’ve ever had. April put up a great fight, but it was such a relief to finally do something productive for Team Fist. I’m glad we’re on track for the playoffs.”
Just then, outside the booth can be heard “Gren? Gren? Where is Gren? You know, grey cloak, kinda twitchy, cries a lot.”
“He’s in here, Mister Alfred.”
Alfred popped his head, horn and all into the booth. “What the hell is going on?”
“Can’t you wait a minute, I’m trying to give an interview! That was a very important win for me!” Gren exclaimed.
“Well whoop-de-damn-doo! I want to go home and take a crap! Not necessarily in that order! You don’t see me getting all weepy about it. So are we leaving or what?”
“Why do you have to say something vulgar like that on camera?”
“What, crap? Look, it’s all your fault for feeding me all those oats. I got them damn things comin’ out of my @$$ backwards.”
Gren sighed and dropped his head. “I better take him home.”
“Congratulations on your win, Mister Blockman.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” Gren stood and pushed Alfred’s head out of the booth, while exiting himself. “Can’t you let me enjoy the moment?” He asked, as they moved to leave the Garden.
Gren Blockman
Team Fist
The lady with the clipboard was standing outside the booth, and saw Gren hurrying up to her. Assuming he wanted to climb inside and give an interview, she pulled the red curtain back. She was shocked to find Gren instead threw his arms around her and gave her a big hug.
“I’m sorry, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’m kind of emotional right now.”
“That’s alright, Mister Blockman, please have a seat.” The woman said in a flustered tone, and hurriedly pushed him through the red curtain. Gren plopped on the bench, wiping his face as if to clean himself up for the interview.
“You know how this works, Mister Blockman, please state your name, your team, and the current IFL week for the record.”
“Of course. My name is Gren Blockman. Hello everybody!” He leans forward and waves happily into the camera with a big goofy smile. “I’m on Team Fist, and it’s Week Six! Isn’t it a wonderful day?” He sighs and stares off at some random point with a dreamy look on his face.
“Ahem. You just broke a six duel losing streak, seven if you count the 2013 Finals. Can you tell us about your match tonight?”
“Yes. Yes I can. It’s Jimmy, right? Hello, Jimmy. You’re a wonderful person, Jimmy, do you know that?”
“The match, Mister Blockman.”
“Oh! Right. Well, I had to face April in the Anchor match. It was very nerve wracking. I had lost to her previously during the Ice & Fire Spectacular. But I wanted to get that win so badly, I just . . . pardon me . . . “ He takes a stiff, used tissue from beneath his grey cloak and noisily blows his nose into it.
“Are you alright, Mister Blockman?”
“Oh, yes, I just . . .”
“. . . get emotional.” Jimmy finished.
Gren took a long, shaky breath, as if getting himself together, then put on his goofy smile again. “Yes. Well. This is one of the best IFL moments I’ve ever had. April put up a great fight, but it was such a relief to finally do something productive for Team Fist. I’m glad we’re on track for the playoffs.”
Just then, outside the booth can be heard “Gren? Gren? Where is Gren? You know, grey cloak, kinda twitchy, cries a lot.”
“He’s in here, Mister Alfred.”
Alfred popped his head, horn and all into the booth. “What the hell is going on?”
“Can’t you wait a minute, I’m trying to give an interview! That was a very important win for me!” Gren exclaimed.
“Well whoop-de-damn-doo! I want to go home and take a crap! Not necessarily in that order! You don’t see me getting all weepy about it. So are we leaving or what?”
“Why do you have to say something vulgar like that on camera?”
“What, crap? Look, it’s all your fault for feeding me all those oats. I got them damn things comin’ out of my @$$ backwards.”
Gren sighed and dropped his head. “I better take him home.”
“Congratulations on your win, Mister Blockman.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” Gren stood and pushed Alfred’s head out of the booth, while exiting himself. “Can’t you let me enjoy the moment?” He asked, as they moved to leave the Garden.
-
Fourth
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Posts: 325
- Joined: Thu Aug 22, 2013 9:21 pm
- Location: She's never hard to find.
- Contact:
IFL Week 6
Melanie
DeathCake
She'd been taught to navigate the media in much the same manner in which an insurgency exists within the sea of people that make up any city's organic interior. Melanie came late; the man and his crew had already wasted too much of their time. When she finally showed up the moment was rather anticlimactic. There was no grand entrance, nothing more than a small, delicate looking woman wrapped in a dusk grey pea coat and faded blue skinny jeans. Stilled breath prevailed as the camera was magnetically drawn to the enigmatic siren as she dropped into a pulled out chair and rested both elbows atop the table before her. She was, of course, already drinking. To hell with her already ruined image.
"We already know, Melanie, Week Six, Deathcake. Let's get the elephant out of the room. Six and oh, that's never been done before. What's it like? What's gone into that sort of a run?"
Coal black eyes seemed to laugh at the man's question though no jovial outburst followed suit. "Seven's not been done either, it'll be done soon enough. What goes into it? Truth be told, it's the fact that all of you didn't bother to consider us any sort of a threat. No one bothered to game plan, no one bothered to prepare. They lost."
Her simple answers were, for some reason, rather easy to accept as potential truth. "Well, given your team's roster, I can't say that I'd really blame anyone for not paying attention until it was too late. With Fist and both Dirty lineups I'm sure most people expected a different sort of set up coming into the late weeks."
"What does that even mean? The team's that these members have been on have typically been solid and pretty competitive, so let's be real. They coalesce into one unit under someone they all trust and sign an elite free agent. Of course they're going to get better overnight. My presence alone, on any team, gives everyone an advantage."
"How so? You're what, two and one? You've got undefeated fighters all around you and you're sitting almost in the back of the pack. That's got to be hard for someone who is, well, as vain as you are. Talk to me about it."
"I couldn't even begin to care less about my own personal record. I bring a clutch fighter that can be thrown into any matchup, any week and at any time and not be a liability. On an abstract level, I bring experience, a tradition of winning, hands on coaching and an aura of invincibility to any team I'm on, more so one like this. I don't tolerate anything less than winning and I don't mean winning fights. I lose, our team wins, I win. That's the stability I bring to this organization. Sometimes newer, less experienced fighters need to see that. I'm not the coach or a captain but I'd consider myself a leader."
"Yeah, you're that. Even with a pretty average IFL record, there's not really much anyone can say to you being those things. Anyways, moving along. You've been known to have some bad blood with some of the Dirty members in the past, you're fighting a pretty important match. Worried? Anticipate problems?"
After a healthy drink of studio provided tequila, she shrugged and shook her head. "You've got to realize, man, that the majority of what I do's designed to draw a reaction. I can handle my own shit storms with ease. I'm not worried about what you all think about me or what my actions bring down on my shoulders but I'm not going to make the rest of the team's week about me, you know? At the end of the day I'll show up, fight and leave. That's what I was signed to do."
"That's....mature. Also unexpected. Do us a favor, tell us how the week ends. Can you guys even lose at this point?"
"Of course we can. People who say failure isn't an option haven't ever been tested. Failure's always an option. It's the easiest, the most efficient and the most effective, truth be told. We can lose, we could lose this week and get bounced in week two of the playoffs, I guess. We likely won't, we've come far enough as a unified front to move past that, but we'll see."
"That's...not quite as arrogant as we've come to expect. You feeling alright? You're probably in a new relationship. Is some girl or guy keeping you on a tight leash?" Jimmy managed a laugh; he knew how far the volatile explosion could be prodded.
"No, no. None of that. I've just got faith."
"Faith in...."
"The team, I guess. We're riding this well while Fist is digging themselves out of a hole and other teams are probably tilting right into one. It's distressing, I bet, to have such high expectations for a team and watch it fall apart. Aside from that, it goes back to what I said before. I've not had to carry any week, I've not had to really win. Everyone else has done it for me. If there comes a time when I have to, however, I've all the faith in the world that I'll answer that in spades. Someone's carried the team each week, it'll be my turn soon enough. It just so happens that that'll happen when it matters most. I like it, actually. You know I'm fond of the big fights."
"Do you think you'll finally get that Heavyweight this week?"
Dark eyes laughed; her lips followed suit this time. "Are you calling me fat?"
"You know what I meant, Melanie. Tell us, are you beating Hope?"
"If I have to, yes. If not, we'll see. That being said, if we're being objective, there's not a soul that's ever walked into any sort of Fists venue that I can't decode, shut down and dominate. The cards might not line up like that but there's absolutely no fighter I can't beat hands down." She left it at that. Nothing was ever set in stone.
"Closing thoughts? Come on, give us something. This almost seems like a normal interview."
"Fine, fine. I'll speak my mind." She, without skipping a beat, glanced at the camera. "It's pretty funny that even though we're destroying the entire league people'll still more interested in talking about the teams that should, they say, have been where we are. If you haven't noticed, we're better than you. All of you."
Jimmy stifled a laugh as he shook his head. He knew it'd come sooner or later. "Thanks for you time, Melanie. We'll see you at the fight, we'll be broadcasting it live."
"I know, you'll be paying my bills." The camera, they were only men after all, panned across to her as she stood slowly and slipped out of the room for far longer than was required. She, as an after thought, couldn't blame them for staring.
Melanie
DeathCake
She'd been taught to navigate the media in much the same manner in which an insurgency exists within the sea of people that make up any city's organic interior. Melanie came late; the man and his crew had already wasted too much of their time. When she finally showed up the moment was rather anticlimactic. There was no grand entrance, nothing more than a small, delicate looking woman wrapped in a dusk grey pea coat and faded blue skinny jeans. Stilled breath prevailed as the camera was magnetically drawn to the enigmatic siren as she dropped into a pulled out chair and rested both elbows atop the table before her. She was, of course, already drinking. To hell with her already ruined image.
"We already know, Melanie, Week Six, Deathcake. Let's get the elephant out of the room. Six and oh, that's never been done before. What's it like? What's gone into that sort of a run?"
Coal black eyes seemed to laugh at the man's question though no jovial outburst followed suit. "Seven's not been done either, it'll be done soon enough. What goes into it? Truth be told, it's the fact that all of you didn't bother to consider us any sort of a threat. No one bothered to game plan, no one bothered to prepare. They lost."
Her simple answers were, for some reason, rather easy to accept as potential truth. "Well, given your team's roster, I can't say that I'd really blame anyone for not paying attention until it was too late. With Fist and both Dirty lineups I'm sure most people expected a different sort of set up coming into the late weeks."
"What does that even mean? The team's that these members have been on have typically been solid and pretty competitive, so let's be real. They coalesce into one unit under someone they all trust and sign an elite free agent. Of course they're going to get better overnight. My presence alone, on any team, gives everyone an advantage."
"How so? You're what, two and one? You've got undefeated fighters all around you and you're sitting almost in the back of the pack. That's got to be hard for someone who is, well, as vain as you are. Talk to me about it."
"I couldn't even begin to care less about my own personal record. I bring a clutch fighter that can be thrown into any matchup, any week and at any time and not be a liability. On an abstract level, I bring experience, a tradition of winning, hands on coaching and an aura of invincibility to any team I'm on, more so one like this. I don't tolerate anything less than winning and I don't mean winning fights. I lose, our team wins, I win. That's the stability I bring to this organization. Sometimes newer, less experienced fighters need to see that. I'm not the coach or a captain but I'd consider myself a leader."
"Yeah, you're that. Even with a pretty average IFL record, there's not really much anyone can say to you being those things. Anyways, moving along. You've been known to have some bad blood with some of the Dirty members in the past, you're fighting a pretty important match. Worried? Anticipate problems?"
After a healthy drink of studio provided tequila, she shrugged and shook her head. "You've got to realize, man, that the majority of what I do's designed to draw a reaction. I can handle my own shit storms with ease. I'm not worried about what you all think about me or what my actions bring down on my shoulders but I'm not going to make the rest of the team's week about me, you know? At the end of the day I'll show up, fight and leave. That's what I was signed to do."
"That's....mature. Also unexpected. Do us a favor, tell us how the week ends. Can you guys even lose at this point?"
"Of course we can. People who say failure isn't an option haven't ever been tested. Failure's always an option. It's the easiest, the most efficient and the most effective, truth be told. We can lose, we could lose this week and get bounced in week two of the playoffs, I guess. We likely won't, we've come far enough as a unified front to move past that, but we'll see."
"That's...not quite as arrogant as we've come to expect. You feeling alright? You're probably in a new relationship. Is some girl or guy keeping you on a tight leash?" Jimmy managed a laugh; he knew how far the volatile explosion could be prodded.
"No, no. None of that. I've just got faith."
"Faith in...."
"The team, I guess. We're riding this well while Fist is digging themselves out of a hole and other teams are probably tilting right into one. It's distressing, I bet, to have such high expectations for a team and watch it fall apart. Aside from that, it goes back to what I said before. I've not had to carry any week, I've not had to really win. Everyone else has done it for me. If there comes a time when I have to, however, I've all the faith in the world that I'll answer that in spades. Someone's carried the team each week, it'll be my turn soon enough. It just so happens that that'll happen when it matters most. I like it, actually. You know I'm fond of the big fights."
"Do you think you'll finally get that Heavyweight this week?"
Dark eyes laughed; her lips followed suit this time. "Are you calling me fat?"
"You know what I meant, Melanie. Tell us, are you beating Hope?"
"If I have to, yes. If not, we'll see. That being said, if we're being objective, there's not a soul that's ever walked into any sort of Fists venue that I can't decode, shut down and dominate. The cards might not line up like that but there's absolutely no fighter I can't beat hands down." She left it at that. Nothing was ever set in stone.
"Closing thoughts? Come on, give us something. This almost seems like a normal interview."
"Fine, fine. I'll speak my mind." She, without skipping a beat, glanced at the camera. "It's pretty funny that even though we're destroying the entire league people'll still more interested in talking about the teams that should, they say, have been where we are. If you haven't noticed, we're better than you. All of you."
Jimmy stifled a laugh as he shook his head. He knew it'd come sooner or later. "Thanks for you time, Melanie. We'll see you at the fight, we'll be broadcasting it live."
"I know, you'll be paying my bills." The camera, they were only men after all, panned across to her as she stood slowly and slipped out of the room for far longer than was required. She, as an after thought, couldn't blame them for staring.
-
Hoi Mei
- Adventurer
- Sweet and Sour Chicken
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Fri Dec 14, 2012 7:23 am
- Location: The Jade Dragon Chinese Buffet, West Side of Chinatown
IFL Week 7
Fang Hoi Mei
Team Fist
"Welcome back Hoi Mei! Last year it was 5-1, this year you're in the top 8 with a 4-0 win streak. How does that make you feel?"
Hoi Mei's face grew a little redder as she raised both hands and waved them in front of herself. "No, no! Many fighters do better than Hoi Mei. Hoi Mei do only fine!" She then shook her head, which sent dark strands of hair flying left and right.
"It's an impressive streak though. On Team Fist, Both you and Darik ha--.. Hoi Mei? Can you uncover your ears?"
The chinagirl looked a little annoyed. Hoi Mei sat there with hands cupped over her ears. "Aiya.. No talk about Hoi Mei! Hoi Mei only do good, other fighters do better." Hands then lowered while cheeks puffed up some.
".. Haha, okay." Her interviewer said with a nervous laugh. "Fine. Who do you think is the best fighter this season?"
"Strong man Salvador." Hoi Mei said without delay and with a very big nod. "Salvador do very good. Xanth do very good too, but Xanth no eat at Jade Dragon - So Salvador get pick. Strong Man Salvador lead Deathcake to many victories! With big help from pretty girl Sabine, she has no losses also! Strong Girl Hope do very, very good! She win this week she go 5-0! Very good!"
"You're not seen much outside of the Iron Fist League. Do you ever think you'll get Emerald in the Outback?"
".. neige... Hoi Mei almost forget about Iron Fist League. Shen Woo knock on door week before team sign up and say `Hoi Mei! Stop with face hunter and go find team!`, Hoi Mei then join Team Fist because Team Fist sign Lena. Lena very special to Hoi Mei and Hoi Mei only want fight with Lena on team."
"How do you feel about Team Fist's chances in the playoffs?" The lowball questions seemed to work better with Hoi Mei, so he kept to them.
"Team Fist win!" Hoi Mei raised both of her fists. "D in V!"
"So you're Team Fist all the way. How about Asian Invasion? Many fans in little Asia were disappointed that the Invasion didn't return for a third season."
Hoi Mei frowned and and fidgeted with her hands. "Kimone know better than Hoi Mei. Kimone very, very smart. If Asian Invasion come back, Hoi Mei join -- no question! Right now Asian Invasion resting like sleeping dragon. One day come back and have much fun!" said with arm pumping and everything.
"If you could change anything about this year, what would it be?"
"Druid get nerf and bring back release hounds." Hoi Mei said with a big smile.
".. I'm not sure what that means. I meant with your teams run this leagues season."
"Change nothing! Hoi Mei have lots of fun. Everyone doing very good!" V for Victory fingers. Double.
"I think we can end it here. Anything you'd like to add?"
"Hi Lena!!!! GOOD LUCK!" Hoi Mei waved at the camera. "KIMONE!! Everyone go eat at Jade Dragon!! Wear Team Fist shirt, get discount! Drink not included! Gunther need take Hoi Mei out to movie again!"
Fang Hoi Mei
Team Fist
"Welcome back Hoi Mei! Last year it was 5-1, this year you're in the top 8 with a 4-0 win streak. How does that make you feel?"
Hoi Mei's face grew a little redder as she raised both hands and waved them in front of herself. "No, no! Many fighters do better than Hoi Mei. Hoi Mei do only fine!" She then shook her head, which sent dark strands of hair flying left and right.
"It's an impressive streak though. On Team Fist, Both you and Darik ha--.. Hoi Mei? Can you uncover your ears?"
The chinagirl looked a little annoyed. Hoi Mei sat there with hands cupped over her ears. "Aiya.. No talk about Hoi Mei! Hoi Mei only do good, other fighters do better." Hands then lowered while cheeks puffed up some.
".. Haha, okay." Her interviewer said with a nervous laugh. "Fine. Who do you think is the best fighter this season?"
"Strong man Salvador." Hoi Mei said without delay and with a very big nod. "Salvador do very good. Xanth do very good too, but Xanth no eat at Jade Dragon - So Salvador get pick. Strong Man Salvador lead Deathcake to many victories! With big help from pretty girl Sabine, she has no losses also! Strong Girl Hope do very, very good! She win this week she go 5-0! Very good!"
"You're not seen much outside of the Iron Fist League. Do you ever think you'll get Emerald in the Outback?"
".. neige... Hoi Mei almost forget about Iron Fist League. Shen Woo knock on door week before team sign up and say `Hoi Mei! Stop with face hunter and go find team!`, Hoi Mei then join Team Fist because Team Fist sign Lena. Lena very special to Hoi Mei and Hoi Mei only want fight with Lena on team."
"How do you feel about Team Fist's chances in the playoffs?" The lowball questions seemed to work better with Hoi Mei, so he kept to them.
"Team Fist win!" Hoi Mei raised both of her fists. "D in V!"
"So you're Team Fist all the way. How about Asian Invasion? Many fans in little Asia were disappointed that the Invasion didn't return for a third season."
Hoi Mei frowned and and fidgeted with her hands. "Kimone know better than Hoi Mei. Kimone very, very smart. If Asian Invasion come back, Hoi Mei join -- no question! Right now Asian Invasion resting like sleeping dragon. One day come back and have much fun!" said with arm pumping and everything.
"If you could change anything about this year, what would it be?"
"Druid get nerf and bring back release hounds." Hoi Mei said with a big smile.
".. I'm not sure what that means. I meant with your teams run this leagues season."
"Change nothing! Hoi Mei have lots of fun. Everyone doing very good!" V for Victory fingers. Double.
"I think we can end it here. Anything you'd like to add?"
"Hi Lena!!!! GOOD LUCK!" Hoi Mei waved at the camera. "KIMONE!! Everyone go eat at Jade Dragon!! Wear Team Fist shirt, get discount! Drink not included! Gunther need take Hoi Mei out to movie again!"
IFL Week 7
Eva Luna
Team Royal Rabble
“Eva! Eva! Can we interview you for RSN?”
“I don’t do interviews.”
“Just a couple questions! Come on, Captain! Do it for the fans!”
“Two questions?”
“Well… maybe a couple more than that, but come on, the fans want to hear from you.”
“Alright, just make it quick. And hey, can you keep that light out of my eyes?”
“Yes! Great! Great, okay. Here we go. With me right now is Captain Eva Luna of Team Royal Rabble. Eva, your team has had a rocky road in the competition so far. What sort of challenges have you faced as a first-time captain with such a young team?”
“Well... when you have new fighters you spend the first half of the season trying to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, and the second half of the season trying to get them the right matchups. It hasn’t always worked out the way I’d hoped, but I’m proud of the way this team has committed to fighting through. Even when we’re not winning I see great potential and progress with my fighters.”
“Were you surprised to take such a decisive win off of Dirty: Pink?”
“Absolutely, but I would have been surprised no matter who our opponent was. The teams in this league are all first class, and it’s a huge honor and challenge to try to run with them. Six days of the week, Dirty: Pink knocks the stuffing out of us and sends us packing. We caught them on day seven.”
“How do you feel about your playoff chances going into Week 7?”
“The stars have to align in a certain perfect way for us to move forward, and that’s probably the way it should be. Overall, Lazerricks has had a stronger season than Rabble, even if their team win-loss record doesn’t show it. I know my team is going into this week with the kind of respect for Lazerricks that they deserve. And maybe they’ll share some of their cake with us when it’s all over.”
“Who on your team has the most potential as a fighter for next season?”
“They all do.”
“Yes, but--?”
“They all do. Move on.”
“If Rabble doesn’t make it, who will you be rooting for in the post-season?”
“My dad taught me to root for the underdog.”
“Um… can you be more specific?”
“Nope. Thanks for your time, babe.”
“That’s it? Eva? Eva?”
Eva Luna
Team Royal Rabble
“Eva! Eva! Can we interview you for RSN?”
“I don’t do interviews.”
“Just a couple questions! Come on, Captain! Do it for the fans!”
“Two questions?”
“Well… maybe a couple more than that, but come on, the fans want to hear from you.”
“Alright, just make it quick. And hey, can you keep that light out of my eyes?”
“Yes! Great! Great, okay. Here we go. With me right now is Captain Eva Luna of Team Royal Rabble. Eva, your team has had a rocky road in the competition so far. What sort of challenges have you faced as a first-time captain with such a young team?”
“Well... when you have new fighters you spend the first half of the season trying to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, and the second half of the season trying to get them the right matchups. It hasn’t always worked out the way I’d hoped, but I’m proud of the way this team has committed to fighting through. Even when we’re not winning I see great potential and progress with my fighters.”
“Were you surprised to take such a decisive win off of Dirty: Pink?”
“Absolutely, but I would have been surprised no matter who our opponent was. The teams in this league are all first class, and it’s a huge honor and challenge to try to run with them. Six days of the week, Dirty: Pink knocks the stuffing out of us and sends us packing. We caught them on day seven.”
“How do you feel about your playoff chances going into Week 7?”
“The stars have to align in a certain perfect way for us to move forward, and that’s probably the way it should be. Overall, Lazerricks has had a stronger season than Rabble, even if their team win-loss record doesn’t show it. I know my team is going into this week with the kind of respect for Lazerricks that they deserve. And maybe they’ll share some of their cake with us when it’s all over.”
“Who on your team has the most potential as a fighter for next season?”
“They all do.”
“Yes, but--?”
“They all do. Move on.”
“If Rabble doesn’t make it, who will you be rooting for in the post-season?”
“My dad taught me to root for the underdog.”
“Um… can you be more specific?”
“Nope. Thanks for your time, babe.”
“That’s it? Eva? Eva?”
-
Bailey Raptis
- Seasoned Adventurer
- The Stolen Child
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Fri Apr 17, 2015 9:25 pm
- Location: Can be found many places, but resides in Old Temple
IFL Week 6
Bailey Raptis
Royal Rabble
Bailey snuck away from the Iron Fists Garden while the remaining fights for the evening raged on. He was dressed both for the weather and for fighting: his black winter peacoat, combined with sweatpants of the same color and white sneakers. Like most of his fight nights, he had went above and beyond the usual makeup he wore on his face. Tonight, it was full corpse paint: white greasepaint all over his face, with black patches around his eyes and black lipstick. The man holding the clipboard for the In Your Face team that evening double-taked at first when spotting Bailey, but quickly recognized him from the fight that had just been completed, and from seeing previous footage of the duelist. He pulled the curtain open for Bailey, and the fighter stepped inside, sitting on the bench.
“Bailey Raptis?” the voice behind the darkened glass panel asked.
“Yes, that is me.” He paused momentarily, scratching his head. “I?”
“Please state your name, your team and the current week of IFL, please.”
“...but you just asked me for my name?” Bailey paused, waiting for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. “Well, I am Bailey Raptis, I fight for the Royal Rabble, and this is currently week 6 of the Iron Fists League.”
“Good. Well, let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way right away. In each of your fights, you've shown up in --- well we don't want to call it a costume --- but you have your face painted like you're going to war. Is that a part of your pregame ritual?”
“It is a part of my pregame ritual for duels or tournaments that are...important. When I duel in the so-called ‘regulation,’ I do not do such things. I find that when there is more at stake in a duel, that putting on ‘war paint’, as you put it, helps with my nerves. I know, I know, it sounds...hã, counter-intuitive?”
“How do you choose your designs?”
“They come from a variety of places. The eyeblack I wore in my week one match with Lirssa was a nod to sporting traditions I have heard of from other realms. The red paint design I wore over my eyes during my match with Terry King came out of a fashion magazine I read frequently for work. My last two designs came from my co-workers at L.D. 50. They spend a lot of time looking things up on this thing called the Internet.”
“Ah, yes, L.D. 50.” Bailey heard the quiet sound of papers shuffling behind the glass, and then the voice continued. “You work as a designer for them, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel your style compares to some of the other fashionable fighters in IFL, like Koyliak VanDuran-Simon or Jewell Ravenlock?”
A flicker of fear crossed his face at the second name, before he caught and composed himself, clearing his throat. “I think…” Now he tipped his head from side to side, as if attempting to shake the words loose. “I think that is an apples to oranges comparison, and unfair to us three. I do not fight in the sorts of outfits they choose to fight in as a matter of personal preference. I think it is fantastic that they have had such success, both here, in the Outback, and in the Arena, wearing such fashionable clothes. I, however, am not yet comfortable enough in my skill to fight in a short skirt and high heels.”
The voice laughed nervously, before asking its next question. “Let’s talk about tonight’s fight. How did you prepare for your fight with Bane? Besides, you know…”
“Nothing different than any other fight. I put on my makeup, I ate a healthier dinner than usual (chicken and rice and a green salad), I did some stretches, I got my hands taped up, and then I came down to the Garden.”
“So there were no changes between your match last week with Skid and this week’s match with Bane? Nothing you did differently than spelled the difference between victory this week and defeat last week?”
“Nothing changed in terms of what I did before the fight. Of course, during the fight, I applied what I learned from my last fight, and every fight before that, and every training session before that. Every fight is an opportunity to get better, to get stronger, to learn more, and I would like to think my performance thus far is proof that I am improving in those things.”
“How did you feel when you saw that you were matched up against Bane, given his reputation as one of IFL's all-time greats?”
Bailey rubbed his neck before answering. “I confess, I am not a student of this sport’s history. I watch some video, see the match results and the rankings, but beyond that, I do not know much about many of my opponents. That having been said, I get nervous before nearly every fight I have, but that is a good thing. It helps me focus, it helps me remember my training and my lessons.”
“Was there a moment during your fight tonight where you felt confident that you had him?”
“The truth be told, no. Holding a lead in this sport means nothing until you get that final winning point. I held leads in my matches with Terry and Skid, and in both cases, I wound up losing. I do not feel like any lead is safe until that match is called over.”
“One last question, Bailey. Royal Rabble is a team with a lot of young or new fighters. How do you see your team in the mix of all the other IFL teams?”
“This will probably sound strange, coming from one of the younger members of the team, but I think we all have a world of potential, even if you do not think that our records, as a team or as individuals, show that. No one is invincible, here. Not even Deathcake.”
“Are you predicting a Deathcake loss?”
“N-no,” Bailey stammered. “But I am saying that every fighter on that team will lose a match some day. It...just might not be this season.”
“And where do you see yourself next season? Staying with the Rabble, or moving on to another team?”
“I fought on Hydra-Foils during Hydra with Mason as my assistant captain, and now I am fighting with the Rabble with him serving the same role. Wherever he goes, I will go.”
“Wait, Mason? Are-”
Bailey stood up before the voice could finish its question. “Thank you for interviewing me, but I have to leave now. Have a good evening.”
“But-but!” The voice sputtered, but Bailey had already slipped through the red curtain and disappeared into the night.
Bailey Raptis
Royal Rabble
Bailey snuck away from the Iron Fists Garden while the remaining fights for the evening raged on. He was dressed both for the weather and for fighting: his black winter peacoat, combined with sweatpants of the same color and white sneakers. Like most of his fight nights, he had went above and beyond the usual makeup he wore on his face. Tonight, it was full corpse paint: white greasepaint all over his face, with black patches around his eyes and black lipstick. The man holding the clipboard for the In Your Face team that evening double-taked at first when spotting Bailey, but quickly recognized him from the fight that had just been completed, and from seeing previous footage of the duelist. He pulled the curtain open for Bailey, and the fighter stepped inside, sitting on the bench.
“Bailey Raptis?” the voice behind the darkened glass panel asked.
“Yes, that is me.” He paused momentarily, scratching his head. “I?”
“Please state your name, your team and the current week of IFL, please.”
“...but you just asked me for my name?” Bailey paused, waiting for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. “Well, I am Bailey Raptis, I fight for the Royal Rabble, and this is currently week 6 of the Iron Fists League.”
“Good. Well, let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way right away. In each of your fights, you've shown up in --- well we don't want to call it a costume --- but you have your face painted like you're going to war. Is that a part of your pregame ritual?”
“It is a part of my pregame ritual for duels or tournaments that are...important. When I duel in the so-called ‘regulation,’ I do not do such things. I find that when there is more at stake in a duel, that putting on ‘war paint’, as you put it, helps with my nerves. I know, I know, it sounds...hã, counter-intuitive?”
“How do you choose your designs?”
“They come from a variety of places. The eyeblack I wore in my week one match with Lirssa was a nod to sporting traditions I have heard of from other realms. The red paint design I wore over my eyes during my match with Terry King came out of a fashion magazine I read frequently for work. My last two designs came from my co-workers at L.D. 50. They spend a lot of time looking things up on this thing called the Internet.”
“Ah, yes, L.D. 50.” Bailey heard the quiet sound of papers shuffling behind the glass, and then the voice continued. “You work as a designer for them, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel your style compares to some of the other fashionable fighters in IFL, like Koyliak VanDuran-Simon or Jewell Ravenlock?”
A flicker of fear crossed his face at the second name, before he caught and composed himself, clearing his throat. “I think…” Now he tipped his head from side to side, as if attempting to shake the words loose. “I think that is an apples to oranges comparison, and unfair to us three. I do not fight in the sorts of outfits they choose to fight in as a matter of personal preference. I think it is fantastic that they have had such success, both here, in the Outback, and in the Arena, wearing such fashionable clothes. I, however, am not yet comfortable enough in my skill to fight in a short skirt and high heels.”
The voice laughed nervously, before asking its next question. “Let’s talk about tonight’s fight. How did you prepare for your fight with Bane? Besides, you know…”
“Nothing different than any other fight. I put on my makeup, I ate a healthier dinner than usual (chicken and rice and a green salad), I did some stretches, I got my hands taped up, and then I came down to the Garden.”
“So there were no changes between your match last week with Skid and this week’s match with Bane? Nothing you did differently than spelled the difference between victory this week and defeat last week?”
“Nothing changed in terms of what I did before the fight. Of course, during the fight, I applied what I learned from my last fight, and every fight before that, and every training session before that. Every fight is an opportunity to get better, to get stronger, to learn more, and I would like to think my performance thus far is proof that I am improving in those things.”
“How did you feel when you saw that you were matched up against Bane, given his reputation as one of IFL's all-time greats?”
Bailey rubbed his neck before answering. “I confess, I am not a student of this sport’s history. I watch some video, see the match results and the rankings, but beyond that, I do not know much about many of my opponents. That having been said, I get nervous before nearly every fight I have, but that is a good thing. It helps me focus, it helps me remember my training and my lessons.”
“Was there a moment during your fight tonight where you felt confident that you had him?”
“The truth be told, no. Holding a lead in this sport means nothing until you get that final winning point. I held leads in my matches with Terry and Skid, and in both cases, I wound up losing. I do not feel like any lead is safe until that match is called over.”
“One last question, Bailey. Royal Rabble is a team with a lot of young or new fighters. How do you see your team in the mix of all the other IFL teams?”
“This will probably sound strange, coming from one of the younger members of the team, but I think we all have a world of potential, even if you do not think that our records, as a team or as individuals, show that. No one is invincible, here. Not even Deathcake.”
“Are you predicting a Deathcake loss?”
“N-no,” Bailey stammered. “But I am saying that every fighter on that team will lose a match some day. It...just might not be this season.”
“And where do you see yourself next season? Staying with the Rabble, or moving on to another team?”
“I fought on Hydra-Foils during Hydra with Mason as my assistant captain, and now I am fighting with the Rabble with him serving the same role. Wherever he goes, I will go.”
“Wait, Mason? Are-”
Bailey stood up before the voice could finish its question. “Thank you for interviewing me, but I have to leave now. Have a good evening.”
“But-but!” The voice sputtered, but Bailey had already slipped through the red curtain and disappeared into the night.
IFL Week 7
Skid
DeathCake
The booth's curtains were swept aside as Skid entered, in something of a violent manner. He moved towards the darkened glass, and stared into it for a few moments.
"I was told there would be refreshments. Have I been lied to?"
It was quiet for longer than it should've been, and that may or may not have been due to the discomfort of whoever was doing the interview.
"Uh.. No. There's, I mean, well.. Can.. I mean, could you state your name, and team? And the week?"
Skid recoiled in horror at the mere concept of a mirror being employed by a news organization. After a moment or two of statuesque silence and acceptance, he sat down on the provided bench.
"Yes." Arms folded, the monster started to look around the interview booth with mild interest.
".....Okay?"
"Okay." He gave the mirror a thumbs up.
"You're Skid, right? For Deathcake? Week seven?"
The monstrosity applauded the mirror with loud, deliberate claps.
"I knew you'd get it eventually."
"Uh.... Right, so.. You're the team's co-captain, aren't you?"
"Yes." His eye narrowed, and he craned up and over to stare more pointedly into the glass. "How do you know this?"
There was a throat-clearing on the other side of the glass that was either exasperated or nervous, or both.
"That's public knowledge, isn't it? I mean, your team's statistics are posted pretty much everywhere. You're on the edge of making history, after all." The place under that mask where eyebrows should've been ticked up, and the fabric twisted along with something like a smile.
"Are we, now?"
"Well, yeah! I mean, Deathcake just secured its seventh consecutive Iron Fist win of the season. I don't think there's much to say about that other than, with your lineup, it's pretty much absurd! You could go undefeated in the regular season at this point, if you keep it up." Skid nodded, appeased by the assessment.
"How have we done this, do you think?" What would've been an eyebrow rose to accompany the question, while Skid leaned back into his seat.
"That's the best part I think," the mirror proclaimed, "since everyone says your lineups are crazy and nobody was even really paying attention to you until this week, I think it's all those weird animals captain Delahada's been giving to you! A source mentioned last week that it even might a ritualistic offering of some sort! Are you magic? What, exactly, are you, anyways?"
"Salvador is a shrewd strategist." With a deep nod, Skid rose. "And I am a secret. This has been an excellent interview. You have enlightened me, mirror, and for this I shall spare the man poking you in the back and sweating profusely."
"What!? Wh-Oh... Uh.. Thank you?"
"Don't mention it." He slithered out of the booth with far more grace than he'd brought in.
Skid
DeathCake
The booth's curtains were swept aside as Skid entered, in something of a violent manner. He moved towards the darkened glass, and stared into it for a few moments.
"I was told there would be refreshments. Have I been lied to?"
It was quiet for longer than it should've been, and that may or may not have been due to the discomfort of whoever was doing the interview.
"Uh.. No. There's, I mean, well.. Can.. I mean, could you state your name, and team? And the week?"
Skid recoiled in horror at the mere concept of a mirror being employed by a news organization. After a moment or two of statuesque silence and acceptance, he sat down on the provided bench.
"Yes." Arms folded, the monster started to look around the interview booth with mild interest.
".....Okay?"
"Okay." He gave the mirror a thumbs up.
"You're Skid, right? For Deathcake? Week seven?"
The monstrosity applauded the mirror with loud, deliberate claps.
"I knew you'd get it eventually."
"Uh.... Right, so.. You're the team's co-captain, aren't you?"
"Yes." His eye narrowed, and he craned up and over to stare more pointedly into the glass. "How do you know this?"
There was a throat-clearing on the other side of the glass that was either exasperated or nervous, or both.
"That's public knowledge, isn't it? I mean, your team's statistics are posted pretty much everywhere. You're on the edge of making history, after all." The place under that mask where eyebrows should've been ticked up, and the fabric twisted along with something like a smile.
"Are we, now?"
"Well, yeah! I mean, Deathcake just secured its seventh consecutive Iron Fist win of the season. I don't think there's much to say about that other than, with your lineup, it's pretty much absurd! You could go undefeated in the regular season at this point, if you keep it up." Skid nodded, appeased by the assessment.
"How have we done this, do you think?" What would've been an eyebrow rose to accompany the question, while Skid leaned back into his seat.
"That's the best part I think," the mirror proclaimed, "since everyone says your lineups are crazy and nobody was even really paying attention to you until this week, I think it's all those weird animals captain Delahada's been giving to you! A source mentioned last week that it even might a ritualistic offering of some sort! Are you magic? What, exactly, are you, anyways?"
"Salvador is a shrewd strategist." With a deep nod, Skid rose. "And I am a secret. This has been an excellent interview. You have enlightened me, mirror, and for this I shall spare the man poking you in the back and sweating profusely."
"What!? Wh-Oh... Uh.. Thank you?"
"Don't mention it." He slithered out of the booth with far more grace than he'd brought in.
IFL Week 10: Finals Edition
Grace Frigg
Dirty: Black
As Terry’s match with Matt progressed, Grace was just walking past the “In Your Face” booth as a young woman waved her way.
“Oh Grace! Grace! Can we get an interview? Please? We haven’t scored any Dirty: Black interviews all season you know. This’ll just take a few minutes.”
The convincing was not particularly necessary though, as the wide eyed Valkyrie gave her a smile and pushed aside the curtain to disappear inside.
She was just looking around the booth briefly as the voice behind the curtain alerted her that she wasn’t alone. “Oh good! Someone to interview during all the excitement!”
Giving the camera lens the soon to be trademarked Bob squint before a smile followed. “Hello.” Her voice was a touch shy and confused, but she was reminding herself that Patches could probably explain what the camera lens was later.
“Please state your name, team and the week for us.” The tone sounded friendly enough in nature, which would lead to a relaxed state of Grace’s shoulders while her answers followed.
“Oh, I’m Grace Frigg of Dirty: Black, but we all fight under the Team Dirty banner. Tenth week of the season, the Finals. Last night and last match going on right now too.” Gesturing vaguely behind her with a thumb in response to the cheers outside of the booth.
“That’s right! The Finals! Grace, this is your second season in the Iron Fists League, what all have you learned thus far?”
Grace laughed a bit as she shifted in her seat, “Heh, I thought you guys were going to ask me easy questions like, what my favorite tacos are and how many animals are in the zoo.”
“We’ve got those questions lined up too!” Amused chuckling from the interviewer followed.
“Well, last year when I was on the Rock Hards, I learned the importance of just having fun in the ring. There was a lot of dancing and we had fireworks and lots of music. You know how Kruger is. It’s a big show and just a big blast. We were the dark horse that no one was expecting to take it all the way to the Finals. We didn’t win the championship, but come on, it’s Top Flight.” Shrugging as she laughed. “You can’t be disappointed that we lost to Harris. That’s like being upset you get beat by Jake Thrash. You’re just stoked to be in the ring with these guys and try your best. Learn from your mistakes and try to step up the next go around.
“This year on Dirty: Black though, it was reaffirmed that we’re all a Team. I think some might joke around and say that it sounds ‘squishy’,” Grace held up her hands to do the finger quotes around the word. “But it’s true. We lost a lot this season, but we were still scoring points, we were out there when we were down and no one gave up. If anything this season taught us and should teach everybody really – it’s a numbers game and it doesn’t matter what your season held, but what happens in the playoffs is all that matters. We’ve beaten two teams that we’ve already lost to before, one of them being our own sister team. But we stuck together and because of the points we scored, even in our losing matches – we were able to go on to the next round.
“I don’t think anyone would have guessed that Dirty: Black would have made it to the Finals on a 2 – 5 season, but just goes to show you that sometimes you never know who is going to win and you can’t count the Underdog out. Because you know, sometimes, we win.”
“It sounds like you’ve learned a lot being a Co-Captain this season with Terry King. How has that been? Will Dirty: Black be returning next season? Either to defend or win the title…depending on the outcome of this final fight. Looks like she’s just tied things up with Matt now. This is an exciting match!”
“Terry’s been great and I’ve done my best to learn from her since she held Battlefield Park and she announced she’d been signed on Dirty this past summer. She’s stayed focused and positive, even when we were losing. We got this far because of Terry, her line ups, and the points we were able to score. She’s had steady faith in us the whole time and I’m grateful that she gave me the chance to stand alongside her. As for if Dirty: Black is coming back, I couldn’t say because I don’t run or fund the team, but it’s been a hell of a season that’s for sure.”
“How have you felt about your personal record this season? Last year you were 2 – 3, this year you went 2 – 6 record. What has motivated you to keep that smile on your face?”
“I should probably quit my day job or get back in the gym and stay focused if my personal record bothered me. What kept me going this season is that I was still trying to have fun in the ring. Cheering on the Lazerricks this season made it easy to set up the wild match with Nigel. That match and the food fight with Ketch on Royal Rabble are my favorite matches this season. Sure, I happened to win those, but Nigel and I were really close, that could have gone either way. With Ketch, I’d have thrown down in an eating contest with him any time.
“As for the rest of the season, let’s see…” Thoughtful as she recounted the other match ups. “I had a lot of rematches this season. Fighting Claire twice, I showed some improvement the second go around with her. Kal was ready for me after last season, and didn’t want to have this one go sudden death like the last one I bet, especially since he was pulled in as a free agent for the Royals. Lena was ready for her rematch after last year and pulled a real solid win. Sal and I had fun, just that third trade was too late for me and good for him. And then Kheldar last week? I mean can I really be upset that a six time Diamond beat me in the ring?
“While no one necessarily really likes to lose, someone has to. This season, just happened to me. I was lucky enough though that even with my losses in the playoffs, it was with enough points to help take or keep the team victorious. So I’ve been smiling because my points that I did score helped the team. Because we’ve been having fun and we should be proud of what we’ve done, how far we’ve come.”
Outside the booth the crowd erupts with cheers for Team Fist as the final call is announced.
Grace smiled and gave the camera lens a shrug as she stood up. “Congrats Team Fist. Well deserved.”
“Still with a smile on your face Grace, even after all this time?”
“Always.”
Grace flashed a peace sign to the lens and headed on out of the booth.
Grace Frigg
Dirty: Black
As Terry’s match with Matt progressed, Grace was just walking past the “In Your Face” booth as a young woman waved her way.
“Oh Grace! Grace! Can we get an interview? Please? We haven’t scored any Dirty: Black interviews all season you know. This’ll just take a few minutes.”
The convincing was not particularly necessary though, as the wide eyed Valkyrie gave her a smile and pushed aside the curtain to disappear inside.
She was just looking around the booth briefly as the voice behind the curtain alerted her that she wasn’t alone. “Oh good! Someone to interview during all the excitement!”
Giving the camera lens the soon to be trademarked Bob squint before a smile followed. “Hello.” Her voice was a touch shy and confused, but she was reminding herself that Patches could probably explain what the camera lens was later.
“Please state your name, team and the week for us.” The tone sounded friendly enough in nature, which would lead to a relaxed state of Grace’s shoulders while her answers followed.
“Oh, I’m Grace Frigg of Dirty: Black, but we all fight under the Team Dirty banner. Tenth week of the season, the Finals. Last night and last match going on right now too.” Gesturing vaguely behind her with a thumb in response to the cheers outside of the booth.
“That’s right! The Finals! Grace, this is your second season in the Iron Fists League, what all have you learned thus far?”
Grace laughed a bit as she shifted in her seat, “Heh, I thought you guys were going to ask me easy questions like, what my favorite tacos are and how many animals are in the zoo.”
“We’ve got those questions lined up too!” Amused chuckling from the interviewer followed.
“Well, last year when I was on the Rock Hards, I learned the importance of just having fun in the ring. There was a lot of dancing and we had fireworks and lots of music. You know how Kruger is. It’s a big show and just a big blast. We were the dark horse that no one was expecting to take it all the way to the Finals. We didn’t win the championship, but come on, it’s Top Flight.” Shrugging as she laughed. “You can’t be disappointed that we lost to Harris. That’s like being upset you get beat by Jake Thrash. You’re just stoked to be in the ring with these guys and try your best. Learn from your mistakes and try to step up the next go around.
“This year on Dirty: Black though, it was reaffirmed that we’re all a Team. I think some might joke around and say that it sounds ‘squishy’,” Grace held up her hands to do the finger quotes around the word. “But it’s true. We lost a lot this season, but we were still scoring points, we were out there when we were down and no one gave up. If anything this season taught us and should teach everybody really – it’s a numbers game and it doesn’t matter what your season held, but what happens in the playoffs is all that matters. We’ve beaten two teams that we’ve already lost to before, one of them being our own sister team. But we stuck together and because of the points we scored, even in our losing matches – we were able to go on to the next round.
“I don’t think anyone would have guessed that Dirty: Black would have made it to the Finals on a 2 – 5 season, but just goes to show you that sometimes you never know who is going to win and you can’t count the Underdog out. Because you know, sometimes, we win.”
“It sounds like you’ve learned a lot being a Co-Captain this season with Terry King. How has that been? Will Dirty: Black be returning next season? Either to defend or win the title…depending on the outcome of this final fight. Looks like she’s just tied things up with Matt now. This is an exciting match!”
“Terry’s been great and I’ve done my best to learn from her since she held Battlefield Park and she announced she’d been signed on Dirty this past summer. She’s stayed focused and positive, even when we were losing. We got this far because of Terry, her line ups, and the points we were able to score. She’s had steady faith in us the whole time and I’m grateful that she gave me the chance to stand alongside her. As for if Dirty: Black is coming back, I couldn’t say because I don’t run or fund the team, but it’s been a hell of a season that’s for sure.”
“How have you felt about your personal record this season? Last year you were 2 – 3, this year you went 2 – 6 record. What has motivated you to keep that smile on your face?”
“I should probably quit my day job or get back in the gym and stay focused if my personal record bothered me. What kept me going this season is that I was still trying to have fun in the ring. Cheering on the Lazerricks this season made it easy to set up the wild match with Nigel. That match and the food fight with Ketch on Royal Rabble are my favorite matches this season. Sure, I happened to win those, but Nigel and I were really close, that could have gone either way. With Ketch, I’d have thrown down in an eating contest with him any time.
“As for the rest of the season, let’s see…” Thoughtful as she recounted the other match ups. “I had a lot of rematches this season. Fighting Claire twice, I showed some improvement the second go around with her. Kal was ready for me after last season, and didn’t want to have this one go sudden death like the last one I bet, especially since he was pulled in as a free agent for the Royals. Lena was ready for her rematch after last year and pulled a real solid win. Sal and I had fun, just that third trade was too late for me and good for him. And then Kheldar last week? I mean can I really be upset that a six time Diamond beat me in the ring?
“While no one necessarily really likes to lose, someone has to. This season, just happened to me. I was lucky enough though that even with my losses in the playoffs, it was with enough points to help take or keep the team victorious. So I’ve been smiling because my points that I did score helped the team. Because we’ve been having fun and we should be proud of what we’ve done, how far we’ve come.”
Outside the booth the crowd erupts with cheers for Team Fist as the final call is announced.
Grace smiled and gave the camera lens a shrug as she stood up. “Congrats Team Fist. Well deserved.”
“Still with a smile on your face Grace, even after all this time?”
“Always.”
Grace flashed a peace sign to the lens and headed on out of the booth.
Patches Gasps!
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests